Poor Us

I stood up comically for the first time in a few months last night. I was really pleased with how it went. I seem to be on a good-rubbish-good-rubbish-good run. So next time will probably not be so fun.

I did all new material (some of it from this very blog!), and most of it seemed to go down well. I'll hopefully post videos and pretentious analysis when it's available.

I really like the immediacy of stand-up. I wrote a tweet on Saturday about a Tesco delivery, and got some funny comments from a couple of friends, and was able to combine it into a routine for last night. For someone so averse to planning, it's the ideal vocation!

Although I was really nervous leading up to the gig, I felt quite relaxed on the night. The anticipation is always worse than the reality. Of course, that won't stop me from being really nervous next time.

I'm going to enjoy this feeling of accomplishment for a little while, before I start bullying myself into doing more writing. I can be quite the slave-driver. Although a really ineffectual one, as I never do anything. It's a delicate balance, where I get to feel bad and yet accomplish none of my goals. It takes real skill.

***

Talk about unlucky. I just heard about this guy who shot himself in the foot, fell on his sword, and was then hoist on his own petard. That's why I resolve to only own weapons made of sponge.

The knuckleduster is my favourite. It doesn't hurt anyone, and has the benefit of absorbing any excess knuckle-sweat.

I also like the sponge nail-gun. It's like being gently pelted with tiny catkins. Pleasant.

Conversely, I like to wash dishes with a flamethrower.

Yep. That's the end of that bit. Pretty disappointing, eh?