Gloop

Well, here it is: August.

The Big A. The Auger. Lord Gust. Gustavo Poyet. The Gamechanger. The Worldbreaker. The month of months.

At least that's how it seems.

Edinburgh is nearly upon us, and the goose is getting fat (but funny fat).

I'm going to be doing a show called This Is What You Get with three fellow comedians (Alex Clissold-Jones, John Spira and Tom Greeves). We're performing at the Banshee Labyrinth in Edinburgh from 7-17th. And we have two Oxford previews this coming week.

I'm feeling my normal combination of physical nerves and mental confidence. It's not particularly comforting.

I'll try to regularly update this blog when I'm in Edinburgh (depending on online availability). I've never performed at the festival before, been to the festival before, been to Edinburgh before, been to Scotland before, or left my flat before. So I'm relying on my companions to be my guide through this alien world. I'm like a naive hobbit on some unknown quest. My feet are quite hairy too.

I'm going to be doing a lot of new material this week. I know I should really work on finding and honing ten great minutes, but I keep getting bored with my old ideas, and am eager to try new ones.

I've come up with a couple of pieces of material today, which I may try. And I might throw in a few of my Twitter jokes. I worry that I don't have a consistent style yet (part anecdotal, part surreal, part one-liners; ALL disappointing), but I suppose that's what Edinburgh is for. It will be a real experience to perform every night for eleven nights.

I'm also looking forward to seeing some of the famous sights Edinburgh has to offer. I'd like to see at least most of the following:

- The Tartan Mound
- Furbrenies
- The Ankles
- The William Wallace Toxic Dance Quartet
- an elk
- a man smoking a cigarette
- Dublin
- a fight between two different Anne Franks, from two different plays about Anne Frank
- some acorns
- wee (Scottish for "urine")
- many hogs
- a confrontational leaflet
- longbread
- The Anticlaimers (the Proclaimers' Evil Quadruplets)
- Debbie Harry
- my own navel

Obviously, time won't permit all of them. I'm not Superman, despite what my driver's license says in crayon.

Right, I might go and work on my act. (I have some cracking material about how different men and women are!) Or I might just read a comics message board and listen to Tim Buckley.

But who can say?

I'm not Professor X, despite what it says on my homemade T-shirt in crayon.