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As a result of a slide tackle in a five a side friendly match, that's right a slide tackle in a five a side friendly match, which is a bit like poking one of your opponents in the eye in a game of dominos down the pub, my right arm that I landed on is up like a pudding. Quite what type of pudding it is I don't know, maybe a Fifteen year old's effort that went horribly wrong in a home economics class. Needless to say I'm having trouble typing, not to mention driving and can't touch my face as my arm has about as much movement as Ian Macgregor's political position during the miner's strike.
So as a result I had the choice on Friday of not working and the very real prospect of living on tins of peach halves and out of date cereal for a week or driving to work and making noises with every arm movement like I was being torchered by the gestapo. Fortunately there was no one else in the car to call me a puff so I plumped for the latter and got to Chester to play the Laugh Inn.
I mentioned my predicament to the doorman who without delay sorted me out some Tramadol belonging to his boss who duly supplied some by driving down and dropping a days worth off. Before some of you get on your high horse (make sure some fucker doesn't slide tackle the horse!), they're legal however you must be prescribed them as they are a concoction of morphine and all sorts of heavy shit. I can understand why they are strictly prescribed because they do have a cosmic effect. I went to my hotel (for a reason to do with sponsorship with Marco Pierre White I was in the Hylton) and I could see the carpet strobing and buzzing. What a weird day, I started it with all good intentions and I ended the day fuckin tripping on my own in the best hotel in Cheshire!!
I was pilled up all yesterday, so I had some wonderful sleeps, one in a lay by and two in the car park adjacent to the venue. I was feeling very calm and content as I went on stage but could I summon up some 'phoney anger' (to quote chortly man when he first reviewed me many years ago) in order to see me through the gig? Of course I could, I might be calm but I'm still pissed off about things including real phoneys like chortly prick, he's still banned from my Edinburgh show by the way, even if he sends the ghost of Hunter S Thompson to do the bastard review!! I got through my spot despite some brain cell free Scousers heckling me with the words 'Geordie Shore' and at one stage 'Shearer' as though I was going to be upset by that. They're people I don't really care about either way to be honest however the nobs shouting it out had the hallmark of the wanky witless Geordie Shore cast about them in abundance, they're also the types who might do a Shearer ie give me an elbow in the face when I'm not looking, I've been threatened by Merseysiders before about my jokes, they don't like comments made about their great city however trivial those jokes might seem to be.
As it happens they could've got a hold of Tommy Smith in his heyday to give me a dig and then John Conteh to give me a kicking, I sort of didn't give a shit. I reckon Tramadol should be readily available on the NHS sorry it already is isn't it and it stops people being angry and it fuckin well works. I'd say the whole of Benwell and Scotchy are on it otherwise we would have seen scenes like West Belfast in the late 60s all along the West Road every friggin evening. That would wipe the smile off Pam Royle's face on North East Tonight!
Right thanks for the recent ticket sales for Edinburgh, do get your tickets now if you want to come at the weekend, I've only a small venue and the weekends will sell out. Details on the homepage of this website. Right I'm off, speak tomorrow people.
TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY MAMA WHO MADE THE SHORTENING SHORTENING SHORTENING MAMA WHO MADE THE SHORTENING SHORTENING BREAD. OOOOH MAMA.
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