So, he audience were a mix of Deaf people, the local Jewish community, and my GP. Watching the subtitles on the screen, I became concerned that the Deaf people would realise I don’t have any jokes. And..
Wait a minute.
What?
Go back a bit.
Eh?
Go back a bit.
Stop interrupting me, I’m trying to write my blog. Go back to what?
Back to that bit about the audience.
What the Jewish community and Deaf people?
No, after that.
The GP?
YES!!! THE GP. WHY IS YOUR GP IN THE FUCKING AUDIENCE??
Oh, that. Well. Er, I used to live locally in Kilburn, and my GPs practice was near this venue. He is also Jewish, so I am assuming he is here as an upstanding member of the local community.
Ok..What was that like? Having your GP in the audience?
What was it like? FUCKING WEIRD.
As I stood on stage, I had a sign language interpreter standing next to me signing as I spoke. A Palantypist was projecting every word that was coming out of my mouth. Onto a big fuck off screen for everyone to read.
BUT THAT WASN'T AS WEIRD AS DOING COMEDY TO A MAN WHO’D FORCED ME TO SHIT IN A TUBE
Yes, HE MADE ME SHIT IN A TUBE. One soggy November afternoon, I had the great misfortune to walk into a Chinese buffet and order myself an 'all you can eat' in a box. £4.50 and you could shove everything you possibly could into a shitty little container. Egg fried rice, fried chicken wings, sweet and sour pork balls, ribs, prawn, the lot. All shoved into one square, mushy MSG pulp. I ate that and shat like a diabetic for 6 months. (I have no idea what diabetics shit like like, it just sounds TRUE) Seriously though. I had food poisoning and some virus in my gut for months. Weight was dropping off me at an alarming rate. At one point, I was thinner than Cara Delvigne (But still considerably more attractive). Honestly, I convinced myself I had cancer. I felt sick and nauseous all the time. At one point I panicked and thought I had blood in my stool, but then realised it was just Gaviscon. Gaviscon is pink, and when you digest to much of it, you produce a distinctly alarming looking poo. (Too much information? Imagine how my GP felt)
So naturally I made a few trips to the surgery. We tried to establish what it was. We tried tests. We tried antibiotics. And we tried sending me away to shit in a tube. It was humiliating. Nothing is worse than being sent out of a doctor's office with a fucking Biohazard bag. (Yes, it says ‘Biohazard’ on the bag. Yes, I felt like I was in the Dustin Hoffman film Outbreak. Only in this film, I was the virus monkey host. And I had to spoon the shit into the tube by myself. The doctor wanted fucking nothing to do with it.)
Anyway, yes, that is far too much information for you lot. I am just laying out some context for you. This is the history between me and this GP. And he is now sitting in front of me watching me do a bellydance to a Deaf/Jewish audience. Evidently back to good health, considering the gut I’d put back on. Thankfully, the antibiotics worked, and I never ate a Chinese all you can eat buffet in a plastic box ever again. MSG can fuck off. NEVER again will I have to spoon my own shit into a biohazard bag.
So it was a unique gig, to say the least. Then I had to quickly run over to Kentish town to do gig number two. Just made it in time, went on last. Promoter Martin very kindly shoved me on quick. Handy. Two gigs in one night, a productive night. I’m just grateful no one weird turned up to the second gig. Like, I dunno, an old Headmaster, ex girlfriend or disgruntled boss. It's coming, I know it is. It's coming.
Gigs No 38+39 done. MC/Promoter Gareth Berliner, and MC/Promoter Martin Besserman
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