I got to bed at 4am, I woke up at 9am. This is clearly some sort of hilarious farce being played by my body clock. I’ll be honestly with you blogees, I am less than happy about it. I’m not even happ. Or ha. Just annoyed. Its clear my internal time keeping machine is pissed off with the rest of me, and insists on playing some sort of trick. Maybe its because I insist on staying up until 4am that has made it say ‘well if you’re gonna keep me up, I’ll be returning that favour you prick’. Maybe its delayed payback from the last time I flew somewhere far away and hit it with jetlag and its since been sitting dormant waiting for its moment to stick bags under my eyes that could most of a family for four’s weekly shopping in. Its probably entirely that I have my first show today and a combination of nerves and excitement mean that every time the eyes close the brain is dilly dallying with whether or not to change this bit or that bit, or maybe I should scrap it all and just do a jazz hands dance for 40 minutes to the tune of ‘Hello Ma Baby’, before finishing with putting a goldfish bowl on my head and pretending I’m in space. SEE? THAT’S HOW TIRED I AM? While I don’t feel that bad right now, a crash is sure to occur soonish and I’m scared I’ll keep over walking through the Meadows later today and no one will help me as they’ll just assume I’m one of the many people who keel over in the Meadows. (No one keels over in the Meadows, but let’s get that rumour started nowish. We’ll say its to do with the slipperiness of the grass and a sidewards angle of hill or something.)
I can’t complain really. It was another day of much fun yesterday involving such highlights as:
– Inventing the word ‘scientriffic’. This is scientific, only terrific.
– Doing the Chortle Fast Fringe which was much fun, even though I had to follow Bo Burnham who’s bloody good and stole my notepad. FACT. (This was just to use as a prop, but I may start the rumour that he’s taken all of my jokes ever and I’ve had to write a whole new show).
– The Caves party where I mixed drinks like an alcoholic DJ with turntables made of tiny plastic glasses. I’m not sure how that would work but I like the image. Imagine it. Go on. They also had a lot of retro sweets and that combined with the lack of diet coke to have in my JD and coke, means this little diabetic had enough sugar to last him till next year. Oh……that might explain the lack of sleep.
– My tech show. The mic works, as do the lights. Hooray. Easy. Its really nice to have a show lacking in props or clever technical wizardry. Saying that, I do still need jokes and a show. Sigh.
– Meeting the flyerererererers. They all seem lovely and enthusiastic. I will do my best to keep them that way as I watch them standing in the rain for three hours handing people bits of papier mache that used to be my flyers. Flyers are by far the hardest workers at the fringe. Sure the performers, agents, promoters and that do a lot of important stuff, but if those chirpy dudes and dudettes didn’t push aside all dignity to wave bits of shiny paper at passers by, it would all be pointless. What I did realise yesterday, is that no matter how many years you come to the fringe, you will always end up carrying at least one heavy box of your flyers somewhere further away than you want to. This happened to me yesterday and I’m glad I’ve got it out of the way early. I do think the name ‘flyer’ is hugely deceiving when in boxes they don’t so much glide above the air, but more just act all heavy and unwieldy. I like the word unwieldy. I don’t think anyone ever uses the word ‘wieldly’ and so well done that ‘un’ for getting a whole word all to itself unlike some of its siblings. Like unlike. See? TIRED. ARGH. So yeah, flyers should be called heavies. Only then they’d have to be bouncers at clubs or security for criminals.
– I nearly got a free muffin and coffee thanks to my charm. The fact I didn’t shows I have no charm. Not even a gypsy charm. I never worked out why they are also charms. When someone describes you as hugely charming I will now believe that means they are much like a tiny silver four leaved clover. Or a horseshoe.
– Saw lots of Get Comedy people with beards: Keith Farnan, Jim Jeffries, Rob Rouse, Pete Johansson. Paul B also has a beard. This now means the only non-beardies at Get Comedy are Carl Donnelly who I think would look creepy with a beard, and Brett Vincent who shaved his beard off yesterday because he clearly doesn’t want to be part of the beard gang anymore, like a loser. All of us beardos are definitely the coolest. If any of our chins are ever wanted for a crime, they’ll be safe due to beardiness. If someone out there needs a person who has a body part rhyming with ‘weird’, they’ll pick. So many plus points. GO BEARD!
– I ate a bun. It was alright.
And now, today will be spent wishing I was asleep then hugely panicking about tonight’s show even though I really shouldn’t. I will probably go over it a few times today like a drunk driver reversing and forwarding over a dead cat until there really is nothing left. That’ll be my show tonight peeps. Roadkill. Unwieldy roadkill. Scientriffic.
Oh and (yawn, sorry) tickets for my show are still available, so please buy them all up. Thanks. Links are on the front page of www.tiernandouieb.co.uk
