March 22-26th

This week was pretty rubbish. I was into my third week in a row of gigging every night, therefore, I spent a lot of time sleeping in.

The beginning of the week started with me buying hair wax off Ebay. I know what you’re thinking and the answer is “yes” that does mean I’m doing pretty well for myself. Tuesday was pretty action packed. I let my cleaner into the flat, who rather than ring the bell insists of waiting outside for me to peep out on her. Pathetically I spend more time a month with her than any other woman. If I was a 1970s comedian I’d now make a joke about how good it is hanging out with a woman who doesn’t talk and cleans everything. I explained to her that my sink was blocked so to not to try and clean it although I realised late in the week it wasn’t broken; I just had the plughole shut. I managed to open the plug up after already tipping a whole bottle of drain cleaner into the sink: that’s the most literal example of pouring money down the drain. Me= unpractical man= bellend.
I managed to squeeze in a game of comedians football in Crystal Palace before rushing to get a lift to Chichester. I love playing football so much that I’ll endure a 3 hour round trip and do a gig still smelling of sweat and men without hesitation. My team also won, which makes any trip to play far more satisfying. I just realised that last sentence makes me sound like a 9 year old child writing an essay.

Carl Donnelly and me also recorded a podcast this week. When he comes over, it is the closest to being 10 I feel. When he comes over we talk bollocks and then play computer games with intervals to consume a large amount of tea and biscuit based boodles. So it’s like a cross between a play date and a mothers’ meeting. I even bought milk in preparation for the tea drinking. All I seem to do nowadays is buy milk. How long does it take once you move out to not mind buying annoying necessities such as milk? If I had a time machine I’d go back to when everyone used a milkman, so the dairy products would magically appear on the doormat. Alternatively I could probably just do some research and arrange for the milkman to add us to his route; this may be easier than buying/building a time machine.

I managed to make it to the gym 3 times. I didn’t go to any classes but instead the main gym where the Gym Monkey girl seems to be wearing tighter leggings every time I go. She probably should wear some baggier clothes as it’s difficult for me to lift weights with a semi. Joking aside there was a bloke working out in a vest and pants. There should be some rules about clothing skimpiness. When he walked past me it was like he’d bunched his cock and balls up into a ceremonial basket and was presenting them to me as some sort of peace offering. “No I don’t want your bits and bobs, you tight garment wearing weirdo”. Maybe he'd forgotten his kit for the first time since gym class and thought that meant he had to work out in only a vest and pants; maybe he was just a socially unaware exhibitionist helmet. Answers on a postcard ...