I’m really fed up today. Fucked off.
Last night I performed so badly at the 99 Club in Leicester Square that I felt utterly amateur. I didn’t know what to do on stage. Absolutely useless. And it wasn’t the audience, sadly I can’t blame them. It was completely me. The show was set up so well by Simon Brodkin, someone who I think just gets better and better every time I see him, so I should have just gone on and done my job. I hadn’t thought about the gig, just walked on and….well, nothing. The audience were great. They laughed at all my jokes. Well, they laughed at all the jokes I could remember and struggled to cough out of my mouth. I did some improvising which turned into a very dull brick wall. The best thing I can say is that I started and finished with laughs but in between was a struggle of my own making. I’m a twat.
When I got off stage both Simon and Matt Kirshen said very nice things about my set. Maybe I’d just imagined I’d had a bad one, eh? Maybe I was being hard on myself. Maybe I shouldn’t judge everything I do against my own phenomenally high standards. Or maybe, just maybe, Simon and Matt are simply two very kind and generous liars. When I left the venue I felt the ghost of comedy punch me in the belly and say “You. Are. Shit.”
Still, afterwards I went to Covent Garden Comedy Club and saw Steve Gribbin have a great gig. There’s nothing better when you’re feeling bad about something than seeing someone else do that something so much better than you. The fucking bastard.
So, not feeling great today then. I think I’ll do some work on King of Everything. That’ll cheer me up. Oh, and Johnny Candon is in Dublin now. Considering he originally left my house on Sunday, that was quite a long trip home.