Thursday night’s gig took me to Crouch End for a spot at a legendary gig I’ve never done particularly well at on my four previous visits in the last two years.
There were about 15 or 20 people in the audience, which is pretty small by the normal standards of the venue but still larger than the vast majority of other open mic nights in London. But they were a friendly bunch and very receptive.
I actually had my best gig there in five attempts, with quite a steady flow of decent laughs. The only blip was something about being anti-diabetes, which was working quite well in Brighton, but needs tightening up and actually being written down instead of just existing in my head. But other than that, I was pleased with how it went.
In Edinburgh news, I am very sad to say that Moz will not be doing a show at Edinburgh this year, nor will he be joining Langton and myself in our flat-share. I will miss his company and his poor washing-up skills.
In other news, I have come back home for a few days, in an attempt to escape all the flag waving nonsense over the bank holiday weekend. But I was dismayed to get back to my parents’ house and see that my mum has decorated the fence at the front of the house with bunting. So, in the spirit of anarchy, I will spend much of the weekend flicking V-signs at these decorations. Then I’ll sign a deal to advertise butter.
Tonight, I have a gig in Cirencester; the very same town where I used to work as a reporter for the local paper. I might make some cutting remarks about rubbish collections.