Talk To Rex

I am taking advantage of the free internet service provided by my publishers to very briefly – between radio interviews and shows – mention that The Rise and Fall of Deon Vonniget can now be described as a “Sell Out Show”, thanks to the lovely crowd that turned up at the Courtyard Theatre last night to see it previewed in a double bill with cult muso-comic Adam Kay.

Not that I’m under any illusions as to who they turned up to see – Adam has a fanbase of about 17,000 people, whereas I have a fanbase of about 30. All of whom have seen my show many, many times already.

So it was refreshing to get to do my stuff in front of a crowd of people who’d never heard of me, many of whom confessed afterwards that they thought they were going to hate me. I’m glad that they held back this particular piece of information until after the show.

It’s also fortunate that I’m man enough to chuckle heartily at Adam Kay describing me as his warm-up act. Of course, when I’m really hugely famous I will make every effort to hire Adam as my warm-up act, because it will be both a friendly gesture and an act of personal revenge. Check out his CD – well worth purchasing for the Dorsal Horn Concerto alone. (Not that you won’t enjoy the others – but it’s the Horn Concerto one that had me seething with grudging fellow-muso-comic jealousy last night.)

My own CD, incidentally, has just been released by Friday Audio, and looks gorgeous. Worth purchasing for the packaging alone.

Fortunately there are other bloggers out there who came to see last night’s show, so if you’re one of the many, many people who couldn’t get tickets (oh, it gives me so much pleasure to write that), you can read about it here.

I wrote an entry last night, on the way back from James and Adam’s bipolar show, but the internet ate it somewhere around Hitchin. On the plus side, you’re spared what I remember as a largely unwarranted stream of vitriol about the kid sat opposite me, who I took against largely because he was writing in big loopy handwriting.

But then I was drunk; I’m allowed to be irrational when I’m drunk. Now, of course, I’m hung over – and all ready to do it again tonight. Oh, what fun. Maybe I’ll have to stay in London this time, because James and I have to be back here again on Saturday morning for a radio interview on the Jenny Eclair show on LBC. Except that according to her blog she’ll actually be being played by Sue Perkins. Perhaps I could also be played by someone else; let me know if you want to take a swing at it so I can stay in bed.

Then we have to be back here (not just “here” as in London, but “here” as in about five minutes from the office) for another interview on Sunday night, for BBC 5 Live’s Up All Night.

Do listen to us, as we struggle to stay awake, remain witty, and persuade more people to buy the book. (Ignore the fact that Amazon don’t list my name on the book’s page – I’m in their system, they’re just sulking for some reason.)

A naked man just cycled past me.

Completely stark bollock naked. And not the sort of man you’d want to see naked. Or even imagine naked.

In Newnham Village, which if you don’t know it is not the sort of place that this kind of thing happens.

In a park where families and children run around and play and picnic.

A naked man.

On a bike.

Fringe was featured in the Edinburgh Evening News on Monday – click here to read the article.

The reviewer phoned me very early in the morning. Even so, I’m slightly disturbed by the implication that I spent most of the time talking about toilet graffiti.

I don’t really know what to make of this, but I feel quite excited by it – somebody I don’t know called Quentin Wagner has just emailed me the following…

Subject: IRS

because I was starving and my throat was parched.
Part Two
“Family?”
while. “That’s not half as bad as being ahead of our time.”

That’s the kind of spam I don’t mind getting at all. It’s like receiving a fragment of a half-remembered thought that might not be important. Something to muse on. The sort of spam William Burroughs would send to people.

“That’s not half as bad as being ahead of our time”… And under the subject heading “IRS” (presumably the Internal Revenue Service?). It’s the most profound thing anybody’s emailed me ever.

Thank you Quentin Wagner.

I just listened to some of 28 Acts in 28 Minutes – “a traditional variety show where each act only gets 60 seconds to perform.”

It is a terrible idea. I think I got as far as the fourteenth act before giving up, which I feel is slightly shameful because there were people I know performing on it. But there is no pleasure, none at all, in hearing a succession of people only just getting started. Or worse still, not quite getting finished.

I’m not saying it’s impossible for comedians to use 60 seconds to be efficiently and brilliantly funny, but very few comedians have a style that really allows them to do this. And of course in the few cases where people had really worked out how to use their time (the Hollow Men, for example), I wanted to hear more of them. A very dissatisfying listen.

*Sigh* … back to I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue, then, for the 34th year running…

I don’t often use this blog to talk about myself. Oh, alright, I do, but I’d hate you to feel you weren’t in the loop, and you’ll definitely miss out if you don’t know about the following:

– Previews for my Edinburgh show, The Rise and Fall of Deon Vonniget, are on 20th and 21st July, 7.30pm, at the Courtyard Theatre (10 York Way, just over the road from King’s Cross). I will be sharing the stage with Adam Kay, writer of the popular London Underground song, so you get two previews for the price of one and a lot of music for your money. Box office: 020 7833 0876

– If you happen to be visiting the fine city of Edinburgh itself, the same show is on at Sweet ECA, 3rd to 27th August (not 14th), 5.40pm. Box office: 0870 241 0136, or book tickets at here. The show itself, if you’re not already familiar with the thing, is fully explained here.

– And finally, if you do happen to be visiting the Fringe, you might find it useful to know that the ultimate guide to that event, Fringe (co-written with the other James who uses this blog), is now available in all good bookshops – so please feel entitled to look for bookshops that don’t have it and label them BAD. If you’d prefer to stay indoors and order it from the comfort of your own house, check out this site for the appropriate links.

That’s it – I’ll never talk about myself again.

Damn Russell T Davies. Just when I think I’ve got him all worked out and he’s basically rubbish, he comes out with an episode like Doomsday.

Even the final sequence, which could have been horribly sentimental, seemed right. Yes, a little bit overblown, but in context appropriately so, and the shot of the Doctor with tears running down his face… I’m sure I wasn’t the only one sobbing quietly to myself.

As for the story itself (and there was one – an excellent development which I hope will be carried on in the next series) – well, I nearly got it right.

James Casey has the answer.

I dreamt that the Footlights tour show was using a big buffet on a long table as its set for each performance, and every sketch used a different item of food in some amusing way until it was all used up.

In my dream at least it felt like exactly the kind of inventive, experimental comedy the Footlights ought to be doing…