Edinburgh 2010 - Day 4

You know what I mean by Day 4, right? I don't have to keep explaining it, do I?

Today (and, as I write this, it is today - though I suppose that's always true) I rose late.

I like saying rose instead of "woke up", even though it doesn't seem quite right. Arose, it should be perhaps.

I rushed off to The Stand to see The Actor Kevin Eldon's solo show (his first ever, I think). He was really really good, lots of good character stuff and songs, but much better than that sounds. It was cool to go to a venue I've heard so much about.

It was also cool because there were loads of famous comedians milling about (well, maybe not famous). Stephen K Amos and Simon Munnery were there. As the show was going on, Stephen Carlin stood behind me. I was a bit too conscious of this fact, and (despite not really having any particular opinions of Carlin) I felt compelled to act up for his benefit: laughing at the clever jokes, and making myself seem like an ideal audience member.

I don't know why. What was I expecting? "Excuse me mate, you seem like such a good audience member, I'd like to give you your own show and a duck!"

On the way out, we were given flyers by Stewart Lee! I probably shouldn't have been so impressed, but it's difficult be nonchalant about it. Though I think I did a decent job of being sullen and cool, even when Eldon himself came into the cafe where we were eating. I didn't throw my knife and spoon at him, and then start humping his leg, if that's what you were thinking, Kevin.

After a quick sleep it was back to the flyering, which wasn't too painful.

Our show was the best yet, I thought. It was our largest crowd, and they were all really receptive. I was compering, which I've never done. I have compared though - in fact I did a comparison in the previous sentence. I've never compeered though (as I've seen it spelled on a sign). That's obscene.

It was really fun to go out there and talk to people, without worrying too much about material. I was able to generate some good stuff from a couple of friendly Dutch guys in the audience, and almost made an offensive joke about a girl's dead grandmother (my face must have shown what I was thinking, so I got a laugh anyway - I had my dead cake and ate it).

I'd like to try it again sometime.

Afterwards (about two hours ago), I walked home, picking up a pizza and blood orange juice on the way. I love blood orange juice, even though there's something I can't quite put my finger on, that reminds me of blood. The name Sanguinello is a bit more pleasant, as it's just foreign blood (which is a delicious refreshment for any Englishman).

And that brings us bang up to date. Unless something really eventful happens before I go to bed. But I doubt that it will!

***

EDIT - After this was written, Paul found a hidden golf course in a packet of crisps.