June 1st, Sunday. Gig No.45, Hideaway Open Mic night, Tufnell Park

Here’s a first. There was a Greyhound in the audience. An actual Greyhound. A very nervous Greyhound. Who can blame it. (I don’t know what sex it was. Excuse me for not being a massive weirdo and checking) This gig is in a dark basement with strange noises emanating from strange machines while lots of big people all sit facing the same direction with arms crossed in cold, creepy blank eyed silence. This room is weird. I’d better not sit, I’d better stay standing in case I needs to run. Why does my owner keep pushing me down and trying to makes me sit. Why does the blokes who is writing me writes like I’m Gollum. Don’t puts a rabbit in fronts of me I goes fucking mental.

Again it’s the music gig. I’m literally the only comic on. Naturally this makes me more nervous than usual. It’s outside my comfort zone. They say moving outside your comfort zone and forcing yourself to adapt to new situations helps you to grow. Not if you’re doing comedy to a fucking dog.

I really really couldn’t be arsed travelling out to do this gig. Sunday evening, I was THIS close to not doing it. I had to though. I fucking had to. This thing has turned into an Albatross for my neck. Wait. What the FUCK does that mean?? Wait a minute, let me Google it. OK. ‘A burden which some unfortunate person has to carry.’

“This phrase refers to lines from the poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, in which the eponymous mariner, who shoots an albatross, is obliged to carry the burden of the bird hung around his neck as a punishment for and reminder of his ill deed.”

OK. Well. It’s a look innit? (Didn’t Lady Gaga wear an Albatross?) Maybe I should have shot the dog. I can wear a Greyhound dog around my neck as a metaphor for this terrible burden I’ve created for myself. You never know, it might catch on. I can flounce around like Quentin Crisp. “Darling, what is that you‘re wearing?? ‘It’s a Greyhound dear! It’s both a fashion AND a metaphor! DO keep up!”

I wonder how PETA would feel about this blog. I’ve killed more animals in it than a Japanese fishing trawler. (“Whales aren’t animals, they’re mammals” I hear you say. Oh piss off to Greenpeace you mug)

Anyway, I have nothing to write about, other than to say though I’d rather not do music gigs, I probably should do more as they really do force you out of your comfort zone and make you grow. They are like comedy viagra, only the 'growth' is permanent.

Gig No. 45 done. Promoter and MC Colin Devaney