Never eat a sausage and fried egg before you do two gigs. (I say 'sausage' but I mean sausageS, plural. Several sausages in fact. If there was just one sausage in it, there wouldn't be a problem. It's the multitude of sausages that is the problem.) You feel heavy, nauseous, unwell. Not up for bouncing around doing comedy at all. But the heaviness though. Most of all, it was the heaviness. It even hurts to bend over to tie my shoelaces. It’s exhausting. And it occurred to me, obese people feel like this ALL THE TIME. How on earth do they do it? I’m not judging, it’s a hard life. I couldn’t do it. Fat people aren’t lazy. Carrying all that weight, it’s harder than hod carrying. Working on a building site is a piece of piss compared to getting out of bed and tying your shoelaces when you’re carrying 18 stone. Lugging it around up and down the high street in high heat. It’s a job.
I really do need to go on a diet. I am hurtling ceaselessly towards the tragic inevitability of moobs. They cannot, and will not, EVER happen. If I grow moobs, I shall be forced to resign from my post as a fully paid up member of the Alpha Male club. One of which I’m a very proud member. Not only am I a member, I am very high up in that chain of esteemed Alpha Males. For we are a select and exclusive group of Real Men. We are dominant and magnificent paragons of the Masculine Ideal. We are coveted by women every where. At night, the women cry, ‘But where are all the good men?’ And we say, we are here. FIND US. We are rare, and we are hard to find, but we are.here. Do not despair. We are the Real Men you crave. But that’s all fucked if I grow tits.
Gigs No. 58+59 done. Promoter Clare Plested
And Brian Damage
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