April 3rd, Thursday. Gig No.3. Man Da Laughs, Midlands Hotel, Hendon.

Hey kids. Today, let me teach you about life. I’m a man of the world. I’ve lived. I’ve seen things. I’ve done things. “I SEEN some serious shit!” Bought the t shirt. Bought the t shirt, dyed it, fucked it and shoved it up all my holes. I’m a MAN. Let me teach you today about ups and downs. Up and downs are what life is all about. Ups. Downs. Ups and downs come in all forms. There are varying degrees of up. And varying degrees of down. They are especially fun if they are drugs. But tonight, I think we had what you might call ‘a down’. And no, I didn’t take ketamine. And the lesson is, you have to take them. Take the highs with the lows. (Except with viagra, never mix drugs with a manufactured woody) Cause thats life. As a comedy man, inspiration comes and it goes. Sometimes it comes, and you’re ON. You’re on, you’re clicking, you’re buzzing like a fly on Jesus juice. Everything rocks, it’s all happening, you’re cooking, dashing off Rennaissance masterpieces with a flick, spurting out seminal comedy classics, jizzing goblets of 1000 yr old handcrafted Ming. You’re floating high on golden wind. But when the inspiration isn’t there - sweet mama. You’re like a castrated Shitzu. One miserable, gibbering husk of worthless mongrel meat. Not one worthy thought flickers in your brain. Except one. One, single, humiliating image burning your synapses into oblivion: “YOU...are a talentless sack of shit”. But no. Not even a sack of shit. That’s an insult to sacks of shit. You’re worse. You give sacks of shit a bad name. Two grizzled sacks of shit in an alleyway, when they feel low, when things are about as shit as shit gets for sacks of shit, they always turn to each other say: “We may be sacks of shit, this might be as shit as shit gets for sacks of shit, BUT - at least we’ve never died on our holes in the Midland Hotel in Hendon”

Gig no.3 done. Lets move on. (This is my ‘I’ve just died on my arse’ smile)