A good night's sleep last night...

... for the first time in weeks, for reasons I cannot explain - I was just utterly spent last night. I slept really heavily, one of those sleeps where you wake up feeling like someone has dumped a ton of gravel on you during the night. Really quietly so as not to wake you, obviously.

Another grey day in Manchester, the city where the rain is part of the heritage. No wonder so many comedians gather here, the place needs a laugh. It is becoming saturated with comedians now though, certainly South Manchester. Withington, where I live, is curious as its population is comprised of equal parts post grad students, the intellectual/creative/bohemian crowd (of which I, of course, am a member) and your god honest, spit and sawdust, salt of the earth common man. I am loathe to be too pejorative in my description of the latter group, though a number of them do seem to think it acceptable to pop to the shops in their slippers.

Not an awful lot to report. I have secured another gig at the Comedy Store in London (get me folks) next Friday, at the late show which starts at midnight, a notorious bear pit which chews lesser comics up and spits them out like the pretenders and charlatans they are. Fear not. I will prevail. This is what I do.

Yesterday was kind of a fruitful day, in that I didn't spend half of it playing Playstation football, hurling vitriolic abuse at a bunch of indifferent pixellated players, who care little for me, especially as they all cease to exist every time I turn the switch off. I still haven't managed to put up my Led Zeppelin posters though. I may do it now.

Oh dear. In my initial post I promised not to bore you with the ins and outs of my life. But here I am doing it. How sad. How is anyone supposed to believe that I live an exciting showbiz lifestyle if I keep harping on about how drab and dull it is?

Oh, who am I kidding...

Dug is happy because his team, Middlesborough, defeated the mighty Roma last night. They "thrashed" them one nil. I watched the match with him and was an honourary Boro fan for the night. It should have been two nil but Mendieta, the man with the thinnest hair in football, missed a sitter in the second half, sending the ball high and wide and then, for full embarassing effect, falling over with all the inherent grace of a chubby pensioner being hit by a juggernaut.

I am off to Bradford tonight to do my monthly residency at the "Bag of Quips" comedy club. It's fulfilling to think that I did my first ever gig there and now I'm host of the show. It feels like things have come full circle. The only downside is the blunt animosity often displayed by Bradford crowds. The sense of humour in West Yorkshire is famously sarcastic and tough, making for quite a hard room and some pithy heckling. It's been a fun night so far though, so touch wood.

Breaking news... poor Bron has broken down and is stranded in Runcorn. I must go to her aid. Well, I'll give her a ring to help alleviate her boredom until Green Flag arrive.

Until next we meet.

Peace X.