Thursday, 19 January 2017


Two weeks ago we covered what a great year I was having in 2016. I’d been deleted off the internet, found out that my only childhood achievement was a swimming badge for a width and added a new irrational fear of bridges to my collection of irrational fears. By my standards this was turning out to be a great year, but would I be able to carry on the momentum?

The most shocking thing that has happened in my lifetime was 9/11. Fifteen years later it is still difficult to comprehend what happened that day. It is a memory that will forever be ingrained on mine and all the world's consciousness.

July 2016 I had some news. I was moving out of home. For the last 15 years the fountain in Trafalgar Square has had a better cash flow than me. I’d looked on dewey eyed when friends and family had spoken about joining a gym, consistently eating three meals a day, earning enough money to pay tax, going on holiday, not living at home with their parents aged 35. The type of financial commitments I could only dream of. You know the basic financial commitments that any primate who can tie their own shoelaces can make. I was fully prepared to live at home for the next 40 years. Ready for it. Open to it. Looking forward to it. When out of nowhere I got a writing commission. For the first time in forever I had enough money to pay rent and eat three meals a day. So I moved out of home. This was my 9/11.            

As I’ve covered in many of my writings in the past most of the worst things that have ever happened to me have either been at or the result of the Edinburgh Festival. 2015’s trip  I would describe as “a huge success.” Full disclosure, a huge success for me at Edinburgh is if none of the following things happen during the run. 1) I have to sleep rough 2) I don’t lose £5,000+ 3) None of the big review sites say I’m racist 4) My girlfriend doesn’t dump me during one of my shows  5) I don’t get my foot caught in a venue that is a blow up igloo and have to do my show with a strobe going off because I kicked the cable that controls it whilst trying to dislodge my foot from said venue that is a blow up igloo.

To clarify.  In my own mind because I’ve failed at all the things I thought I wanted to achieve,   in order to have any self esteem, I’ve had to downgrade my aims to things like not owe anyone any money for 24 hours and not feel like I’m going to vomit at the end of the day when I think about something I said or did during it. Achievable goals. So when I say the Camden Fringe which I did this year instead of Edinburgh was a big success what I mean is no one died and I’m not in prison. And for that I am very happy. I did six shows. Only one was cancelled, three made money and just once did I have a nervous breakdown on stage,call an interval half way through to give people I thought were hating it a chance to leave and then have them stare at me with my head in my hands for five minutes during “the interval.”

You may remember in the last blog me discussing the quest for sex. It looked like the search was finally over when one evening I was performing my blue set. As is now the tradition of the set at the end of it i say “does anyone want to fuck me”  to no reply. I’ve done it about 15 times and tonight as always the response was no reply

I was standing at the back of the room at the end of the night when a girl walked past me and said “I’d like to fuck you.” I didn’t quite know what to say to that. I went with “thanks.” Which was much better than the other flirting techniques I’d  been pioneering recently which Included "Did I see you outside crying?" When a girl touched me "don't touch me unless it's below the waste" not forgetting  "why don't you trust me?"  And my favourite.
HER: What do you want
ME: What have you got?
HER: Nothing
ME: Sounds good.

That night I got a Facebook friend request. It was the girl. We got speaking on Facebook Chat.

“ You were my favourite act tonight”
“Thanks, you were my favourite audience member”
“Was it something to do with me saying I wanted to fuck you?”
“That might have something to do with it”
“That’s the point of the act though right, getting girls to have sex with you?”
“No, the point of the act is to get laughs, the sex thing is an unfortunate bi-product”

We decided to meet up the next night, she didn’t live in London. Apart from our brief FB chat and her saying she wanted to fuck me when she walked past me at the gig I had no idea what she was like. She messaged me just before we met to say she was quite shy.Yes telling someone you’ve never met before you want to fuck them is definitely a trait of a shy person. We had a nice date though. Towards the end she said “look. About me saying I want to fuck you. I don’t think it’s a good idea”. I agreed, as I always do whenever a girl says this to me. She asked me to order her a cab. I did.”I don’t have your number could I have it?” So she missed called me. The cab rang it was outside. I kissed her goodbye and then away she went. Now I’m not proud of what I did next but when I got home I sent her a couple of sexts. I fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning I’d had a missed call from her on one number at 5am and some texts from her on another number. I had no idea what was going on, why did she have two phones? Anyway about an hour later it clicked, I’d been sexting the minicab driver. He was into it as he’d rung me at 5am. Abdul, we met up a couple of days later lovely guy. He didn’t seem very happy that I turned up to meet him and was a man.

The positive news was that gigs were really picking up for me in October. The negative news was that they were all bookings for an act I do called “The Goblin.” An act so weird and out there that even I think it is weird and out there. This culminated in The Goblin’s last ever performance on Halloween. I’m pretty sure there is only one woman in the world who's Saturday night Halloween consisted of being called up on stage "as a goat" by a middle aged man dressed as a goblin where she was then fed "goblin eggs" told she was now pregnant with goblins and then ridden out of the venue as "a goat" by said middle aged man in the goblin costume after the audience failed to answer three riddles correctly.The good news is I will never do this character again. The bad news is from the look on the girl's face when I left the venue this characters retirement came one day too late.

In other news the shy girl is now stalking me, texting me every day and saying she thinks she might be in love with me. Happy to have the attention to be honest.  

Donald Trump is elected president of the USA. I had a sneaky feeling this might happen so I put £20 on him to win. My thinking was if he wins then I make some money and if he loses well at least he isn’t the president of America. One equation I hadn’t legislated for was not putting the bet on but thinking I had and him winning. An outcome the magnified the horror and made me feel even more sad.  

Six months into my new Facebook account and I am getting suggested posts for therapy. I don’t need therapy I need recognition, money and sex. Following almost daily texts my stalker sends me a text which just says “block me.” I explain that this is not how stalking works and block her.

There is a beautiful Italian girl who works in the coffee shop next to my house, she asked me if I’d like to be Santa at the shop for a night in December. She would be my helper and dress as an elf. This was my fourth paid gig of the year.It was definitely the only gig of the year where I had to concentrate for three hours on not getting an erection.

I finished my shift as Santa, went out to a bar, got chatting to a girl and we fucked. The quest for sex is over. I leaned back into my bed and out of the corner of my eye I saw the real Santa fly by the window laughing maniacally. I’d been a good boy this year.  Have a great 2017 everyone.