Its the Chortle awards tonight and I’m very much looking forward to going along only to hear Fat Tuesday hasn’t won Best Small London Club again and then get so drunk I regret it till Thursday. Its nice to have a game plan, and my plan is so game it could me made by Mattel only for family’s to buy it and it only get played once at Christmas and never again as there are computers nowadays. I always look forward to the Chortle awards as a social occasion to meet and drink with other acts and comedy people I really like. However the award bits I like less so. Not the awards for all the acts but the ones for the clubs as I always like to pretend that one year my gig, Fat Tuesday, might just get it. But we never do, and so this year I’m just going to expect that as the result and boo whoever gets it. That way if we do get it, it may be awkward as I stand there booing myself. I will be drunk by that point, so its incredibly likely. I’m still a bit ill too, which is highly inconsiderate of my immune system. It knew the Chortle awards were tonight, why make sure my glands are still swollen? That’s not a euphemism by then way. Nor does it sound like one. Which sort of settles everything. I shall take my own lemsip sachets to pop into my beer. If anything it’ll taste like a medicinal shandy. Or sick.
Yesterday was an interesting one. I did a charity gig in the afternoon and it was one of those sorts of gigs that could have been truly awful or really good. No fault of anyone’s but it was a pretty good music gig and then in the middle, comedy was on. The crowd erred on talking through it, little changing their minds. As I walked on stage, something very odd happened. I really didn’t care. I’m not sure when that’s started happening but I noticed it several months ago. Suddenly I’m not fussed how rowdy/quiet a gig is, I’ll just go and do it. Consequently, by walking on and not giving two shakes of a lamb on a shaky stick, I had a rather fun 15 minutes. I have decided that not caring is very much the way forward. Only for onstage things. If I stopped caring altogether I’d probably become a supervillian. If you care a little too much, you become a carer, but if you care far too much you become a Care Bear. That’s the rules. So ultimately I shall balance things somewhere in the middle to become a small villainous bear. The gig was also for charity, for the Haiti fund, so I think that’s some extra heaven points added right there. As I don’t believe in such things, I collect them like Nectar points and hopefully if I ever go visit the Vatican again I can get £2.50 off the ticket price by cashing them in.
The day was topped off with a Twitterbrawl. Those who are non-twitterers won’t know what I’m talking about, and when I try to explain it, will think I’m rather sad, but trust me, it was awesomecoolbrilliant. Basically, a large scale virtual brawl like those found in only the rowdiest of pubs, just done via Twitter and 140 character violence. For an hour using the #twitterbrawl hashtag, a lot of tweeters belted each other round the face with no harm actually done and I’m fairly sure all felt pretty good about it afterwards. Its amazing how getting bored now means you can actually have fun thanks to the internet. Before the net, when I wished a few hundred people would have a playfight, I’d have to use my star wars toys and Yoda was always eventually win, which just got dull. But now, real people can do it instead and we can all pretend to be slightly disturbed together. Its when Twitter is clearly at its best and such events make me very much consider doing another Twitter Comedy Club too. Here’s another lovely example of internet based lovely fun:
