May 2nd-6th. Being Tired… A Lot

No matter how long you leave the country for it always takes you about a week to recover. I reckon you could fly to Paris for a night and you’d still feel like lethargic sack of bones for seven days afterwards. Post-Portugal I could barely walk around for 15 minutes without needing a little sit down. I also had to have a self-imposed alcohol break due to the fact it hurt my belly every time I swallowed. I’m no medical expert but this can’t be a good thing, I’d even say it’s probably a bad thing. I’m still yet to see the GP but knowing what GP’s are like they’ll say “have a Strepsil, it will go away in a few days time’.

This fatigue affected me in an amusing way. I had to go to a casting on the Wednesday morning, in which I could barely keep my eyes open. I was supposed to sound really enthusiastic about some stupid product but after 1 or 2 goes the casting lady had to say, “can you try doing that bit slightly less…ummm…umm” I jumped in “sarcastic?”, “yes please”. I did not do it any less sarcastic and I did not get the job.

I also got to do a TV warm up for an online football show called “Score Board”: check it on Facebook, it’s hosted by the very funny Dougie Anderson and better than looking at photos of your neighbours Bah Mitzvah. The best thing about it was that I got to meet Scott Minto and Jason Cundy, two names that always feature when me and my friend play the game of “texting each other 90s Premiership footballers”: if you need more explanation about the game, you’re and idiot. Being the silly idiot that I am, I asked them both who was the longest in the shower when they played football. They were miffed by this and said they’d never been asked this question. I was sceptical and after a bit of cajoling found out that Scott Minto’s nomination was Ruud Gullit , whilst Jason’s was himself. Make of that what you will. I’ll try to find out who had the baggiest sack next week.

April 25-29th: Royal Wedding hermits

The sun was out, which meant nothing got done all week. This was not for want of trying. Apparently the sun out and a royal wedding to watch meant no one wanted to leave their house all week and attend comedy events. I had every show cancelled due to low numbers. It seems the whole country needs 3 days to mentally prepare to watch the television. I was out of the country in Portugal for the wedding , however, it seems most of the nation weren’t preparing to watch a romantic unification of two loved-up individuals but instead they were gawping at Pippa Middleton’s rump. It never ceases to amaze me how almost anything in modern society can be brought down to a base pervy level. This brings me onto the Olympic ticket application.

I remembered to apply for mine on the last day and this event has only added to my pervy Britain theory. The Olympics is a once in a life time opportunity to watch athletes at the peak of their powers and what has every bloke I asked applied to watch: women’s beach volleyball. By every bloke, I include myself. I’m an idiot as is everyone else. With the amount of free pornography online why are we all splashing out hundreds of pounds to see women wearing items of clothing? The only thing worse than being a pervert is being a broke pervert. When July 2012 comes around there will be a stadium of idiots, watching clothed women keeping a ball in the air in East London, sodden because it will rain and no one will have any money left to buy an umbrella.

I’m going to go spend the rest of my overdraft on the final of the Wimbledon Women’s final.