Friday, April 30, 2010

Friday 30 April 2010

Another headache welcomes me into this new day.  From here the vibes are not good.

On the news it is being reported that David Cameron won the debate contest last night.  Personally I could not see much between the shit wizards, nothing expressed was radical everything just resembles a tweak to the old.  I can’t help but feel angry about this.  Also the news comes through that the Rochdale lady (Gillian Duffy) has allegedly sold her story to the Mail On Sunday for between £50K and £100K.  How dumb of me to begin to feel sorry for her yesterday when she had so many reporters permanently camped out on her doorstep.  Bigoted woman.

When I finally leave it is to the sight of three bin bags tossed across my neighbour’s front door.  One day I might be driven to the point of cutting my nose off to spite my face and setting fire to their rubbish (and thus the whole building).

As I step out of the front door The Ghost is already there with his dog which is a sure-fire indication that I am very late.  Despite this I wave to him enthusiastically.

Things fail to improve as in a hurry I almost drive into a van because our court junction is blind.  Later as I near the station I manage to top this by nearly driving into a bike while trying to see where the siren I can hear is coming from.  I am a reckless driver having to operate heavy machinery at such an early hour.

Eventually I manage to get on the 6.59AM cleanly and relatively comfortably.  Today it’s a nice ride and no one decides to crowd the seat next to me.  Its Friday and relaxing.

The train pulls into Liverpool Street on time and soon I am on the tube platform spotting Bellalike and boarding my crap London chariot.

Once into work the week ends with another productive day.  The Girl again tries to get topical and make conversation about last night’s political debate but she doesn’t really get it.

My morning begins badly as AOL boots me out of an important and lengthy email to Sarah.  I remember when this happened on an email to Mindy.  And look what happened there.  The room can read my annoyance at this as I sail out the remainder of the morning in a hump.

When lunchtime comes around I go cavalier and order burger and chips with explicit disregard to for being healthy or good.  Like I cared in the first place.

From here I try to squeeze out a strong afternoon of work and usually I do tend to find a second wind on Friday afternoons but unfortunately today 5PM soon comes around and I fall short in my aims and targets.

Tonight turns out to be the first Friday in weeks the boss does not want to get business drunk which annoyingly coincides with it being the first Friday in months I actually want to get business drunk.

On cue The Girl and I leave at 5PM on the dot.  Still trying to make up my mind on what to do I eventually head to Green Park after firing off a couple of fruitless texts to people to see what they are doing.

You can’t reject people after you’ve already been rejected.

When I get to Haymarket I give Chris a call and it would seem that he is still in Nottingham having managed to lock himself (and his Gringo Records housemates) out.  He still sounds determined to make it to London for PAPPY’S though.  Good luck.

Around the same time I also receive a text from Mark who tells me that he is back in Colchester.  I suggest that we should meet up tomorrow.

I head to Caff√© Nero where I buy a mint milkshake for a second Friday running before wandering to Trafalgar Square and into the National Portrait Gallery (like a lost soul).  This turns out to be the perfect place to waste some time.  Tonight it is pretty busy with pretty tourists and other lost souls such as myself.  The gallery houses some amazing works by some amazing artists and it is works by Bartolome Esteban Murillo and Salvator Rosa that really stand out for me amongst the obvious choices such as Picasso.

From here I head to Fopp where I buy jazz CDs and a Murakami novel.  Yes I am self aware enough to know how wanky that sounds and when this later gets pointed out to me, it is unnecessary.

With time now racing towards 7PM I find myself having to grab a tube at Tottenham Court Road up to Warren Street, which isn’t necessarily a distance that usually requires public transport.  Needs be though.

Swiftly I find myself racing to the Bloomsbury Theatre and when I get there it appears that everyone is already, everyone except the guy that is holding our tickets!  He is still out on the piss, much to the chagrin of certain people.

Tonight turns out to be something of a real reunion.  Eventually Racton arrives with our tickets and into the midst of the biggest gathering for this circle of people this side of ATP.  I even spot the loud Australian girl from the party back in November.

The show this evening is the climax of the PAPPY’S tour and the final time that they are doing their 200 Sketches In An Hour show.  Before this though they do a set of greatest hits sketches which I am seeing them do as a three piece for the first time.

Soon the classics set sees them doing Marty, Min and Julius which still kills every time and sees Tom stretching out his Julius bit further than ever.  As ever its all very loose and pretty frisky with it.  No Len Taunton though sadly.

The hits set flies by as an interval quickly arrives amidst a packed house of belly laughs.  With the interval everyone appears to abandon me as with the hot hot end of the week I just cannot be bothered to move.

Unlike the people around me tonight is the first time that I see them doing this show and unsurprisingly it is a quickfire stomp of hilarity caked in craziness and occasionally disturbing shenanigans.  Initially they keep score with view to hitting the 200 sketches but once the show gets carried away the joke count flies out of the window.

As ever with a PAPPY’S show there are a couple of running narratives/themes and tonight this involves Tom’s new best friend being a hapless dinosaur called Dean that looks strikingly like Ben.  In addition to this comes a time travelling meeting of the world’s largest man and the world’s smallest woman which against the odds works towards a happy finale.  As Tom stands on the shoulders of Ben to represent the world’s tallest you cannot help but fear collapse and catastrophe, there is a real danger element within this performance.

Despite being a man down PAPPY’S remain a well oiled machine with an expertly written show that as ever arrives at a rapturous climax where all loose ends are tied up and history rewritten.  As the show explodes to an end “Louie Louie” and The Kingsmen comes booming out of the PA and a natural party atmosphere ensues.

Afterwards we mingle with promise of an after show party somewhere.  The utter mass of recognisable faces disorientates me and when I eventually find myself in conversation with Martin from Answer Me This I feel that I am just babbling.

When we eventually exit the Bloomsbury Theatre Baldwin has finally arrived from Nottingham.  With this we head towards Euston and some backstreet pub in full Friday night swing.  Upon entering inside this feels like walking straight into a cockney version of the Star Wars bar.  No shit, there are St George flags hanging from the ceiling.

In spite of the surroundings I soon find myself in conversation with Chris.  Amongst things he asks me if I have finished my Facebook Cull yet.  He also adds that his ex (Day 41) found her entry the other day and wasn’t necessarily enthusiastic about it.

Eventually we head outside to where everyone is sat on a bench.  A brief session occurs where I manage to embarrass Chris by showing him a drawing he did of Steve Albini nearly ten years ago for the unfinished issue eleven of No Pictures and the Shellac interview with Bob Weston.

As the night hurtles past 11PM the necessity to leave soon becomes apparent.  Finally I head off around 11.20PM with Sofie sending out an invitation for Danish meatballs when her mum comes to visit soon.  Those are wicked tasty.

From here I stomp to Euston Square station where I race to get the 11.48PM train for fear of being stuck on the 12.18AM train and not getting home until almost 2AM.  In the end I get my wish.

On the train home tonight I begin to wonder why the loudest person on this train is a four eyed spod who nobody respects in the real world.  Welcome to May.

I get home just before 1AM by which time I have had my fill of today.

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