The trees continue to pile up in Shepherd's Bush, and the emergency gateway is now blocked with about 12 woody corpses (at least they are no longer blocking the centre, but they would still impede the progress of an ambulance). This photo I took will be in the Tree Holocaust Museum once trees have regained their command of the planet Earth.
And David Jenkins has drawn this fabulous picture of his imagining of Tube-Man. Who could it be behind that mask? He sure looks cross. No one would suspect a mild-mannered comedian, would they?
But my grouchiness continued, after another poor night's sleep. I was in the cafe before heading to the gym and a man behind me had bought a packet of crisps. They were the posh thick type, which is some kind of excuse, but he was eating them in what seemed to me the noisiest possible fashion. Every crunch went right through me. I looked round at him and he was a grown man in his 50s. He had no excuse. He should have learned to eat crisps in public by now. It's not something that bothers me on a regular basis, so it would have to an extreme digression to rile me thus. It was almost as if he was shaping his mouth into the optimum cavern in order to send the noise echoing out of his open mouth. I wanted to punch him in the face, but resisted, despite the cacophony continuing at regular intervals. He seemed to be eating them sarcastically slowly to make the torture last as long as possible and to heighten the effect of every chew.
There should be some kind of a law to prevent this. Adults should know how to eat in public without causing a scene. I would like to see the government bring in a system where you have to be taught how to eat quietly and then pass an eating test before being granted an eating license. And only when you had that would you be allowed out of the house with food.
Tube Man would have told him to shut up. Or just grabbed the bag off him and crushed up all the crisps, but I am not Tube Man. No one knows who he is. I let it go, though threw over a few hard stares, that he totally failed to notice. I would have wondered if he was blind, except then his hearing would have been heightened and his head would have exploded with his own eating.
When the crisps were finished, however, I found I was annoyed by how loudly he was breathing. The crisp noise had masked this. And whilst it was quite loud breathing it made me consider that fact that maybe I was at fault here. Perhaps I was a bit grouchy and over sensitive. So I left and did some cycling on an exercise bike. I have to keep in training for the cycling I do in the show.
It's been a difficult first week of the year for me in some ways, but sometimes you have to lose perspective in order to gain perspective and things have picked up a little bit and I have got over myself. Selling a few tickets has helped the jitters though. Over 180 in tonight, which is encouraging. But also had the good news that As It Occurs To Me has been nominated
for the Chortle award for best internet comedy. Even if this news is slightly tempered by the fact that we are up against the mighty Steve Coogan in that category. If only there had been this award last year then I think we might have walked it. But now it seems less likely. Of course I can use my not inconsiderable internet clout to try and steal the trophy from its rightful owner, but will it give me any satisfaction to achieve a result that way? Yes, probably. So vote for me, mofos! Also slightly disappointing that Hitler Moustache did not get any recognition from the panel (after failing to get a nom for best show in 2009). But there is strong competition in both those awards. And the show has spawned a DVD and a radio series, so I have had my rewards. At least I have a shot at getting the first installment required for my
COBNOB. It will, of course, be fitting to lose and it's great for the AIOTM (AIOTM) gang to have got this recognition (though I would have been pretty narked off if we hadn't!). I will be on holiday when the awards are held, so will be able to avoid that punch in the gut feelings of another year of dashed hopes.
None of this matters. Let's enjoy the accolade and not worry too much about the outcome! Everything continues to progress in the right direction. Much, much too slowly, of course. But if I can make it to 75 I will be the most lauded and appreciated comedian of all time. Thanks for all your lovely messages of support. They mean (almost) as much to me as an arbitrarily distributed lump of perspex. I am delighted that I am reaching the people that I am. Be nice to reach a couple of dozen more a night. But we'll get there.
