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To the Battersea Arts Centre last night to see Richard Herring. Despite getting a couple of hours' kip yesterday afternoon, going out in the evening during the week still leaves me feeling somewhat shattered the following day.
Herring was good and it was nice to meet up again with James Davey and Steve Bennett. Jo (who was kindly paying) also brought along the au pair, Viola.
Although Herring was good, the seats at the Battersea Arts Centre weren't. Well, they weren't seats. In fact, they weren't even benches. They were the kind of narrow strips of wood that impersonate seating on the Lodon Underground (and some trains) these days. This was just about tolerable when watching 90 minutes of someone funny, but if it had been an experimental play on the suffering of prisoners in Guantanamo Bay, I think that I would have volunteered to take their place rather than sit there another five minutes.
After we had left and Steve had jumped onto a bus, Jo said "oh, I wanted to say hello to him" (Herring, not Steve. Obviously she could have said hello to Steve at any point, although earlier in the evening would have been better than later). Well, life is too full of regrets at things undone. My life is, any way. So there seemed little point in leaving undone something which could quite easily be done. So, back we went to the Arts Centre and eventually, after some hesitation and half a bottle of Budweiser, Jo said hello to Mr Herring. Could this be the start of a whirlwind romance? Would Herring be swept off his feet? Well, no. But it was a nice chat.
And afterwards? Well, it appears that the spell has been broken. "I'll give him one e-mail", said Jo, which seemed a bit unfair on Herring, who had, as far as I could see, been perfectly polite.
"But I bet he's driving home now, thinking about that ravishing woman from Pokerstars, saying to himself 'hell, I wish I'd got her phone number. Oh, if only I'd been wittier'." Jo didn't seem convinced at this.
We concluded that Herring would have to be driving home in an Austin Allegro, or somesuch "sad, loser's car". Jack Dee might drive a Mercedes S500 (I know this, I've seen him in Wardour Street), but for Richard Herring to do the same would shatter the illusion. Then again, perhaps Herring DOES drive a Mercedes S500. But he parks it half a mile away and swaps into an Austin Allegro for the last bit of the journey, just to maintain the illusion for his fans.
+++
Going to stuff like this is good for me, if only because I can listen to much of it with a writer's ear. I can spot the tricks and I work out how to incorporate some of them into my writing. Also, without intention, I find myself using some of the techniques in my "routines". Of course, other people probably know them as diatribes at the bar, but I'm going to call them routines, and that's that.
++++
News that James "The Buck" Gilgunn started at Pokerstars yesterday. Gradually the London poker mafia takes over the UK Pokerstars operation. With luck that will give me an oportunity to snag another luncheon companion once a month or so.
Herring was good and it was nice to meet up again with James Davey and Steve Bennett. Jo (who was kindly paying) also brought along the au pair, Viola.
Although Herring was good, the seats at the Battersea Arts Centre weren't. Well, they weren't seats. In fact, they weren't even benches. They were the kind of narrow strips of wood that impersonate seating on the Lodon Underground (and some trains) these days. This was just about tolerable when watching 90 minutes of someone funny, but if it had been an experimental play on the suffering of prisoners in Guantanamo Bay, I think that I would have volunteered to take their place rather than sit there another five minutes.
After we had left and Steve had jumped onto a bus, Jo said "oh, I wanted to say hello to him" (Herring, not Steve. Obviously she could have said hello to Steve at any point, although earlier in the evening would have been better than later). Well, life is too full of regrets at things undone. My life is, any way. So there seemed little point in leaving undone something which could quite easily be done. So, back we went to the Arts Centre and eventually, after some hesitation and half a bottle of Budweiser, Jo said hello to Mr Herring. Could this be the start of a whirlwind romance? Would Herring be swept off his feet? Well, no. But it was a nice chat.
And afterwards? Well, it appears that the spell has been broken. "I'll give him one e-mail", said Jo, which seemed a bit unfair on Herring, who had, as far as I could see, been perfectly polite.
"But I bet he's driving home now, thinking about that ravishing woman from Pokerstars, saying to himself 'hell, I wish I'd got her phone number. Oh, if only I'd been wittier'." Jo didn't seem convinced at this.
We concluded that Herring would have to be driving home in an Austin Allegro, or somesuch "sad, loser's car". Jack Dee might drive a Mercedes S500 (I know this, I've seen him in Wardour Street), but for Richard Herring to do the same would shatter the illusion. Then again, perhaps Herring DOES drive a Mercedes S500. But he parks it half a mile away and swaps into an Austin Allegro for the last bit of the journey, just to maintain the illusion for his fans.
+++
Going to stuff like this is good for me, if only because I can listen to much of it with a writer's ear. I can spot the tricks and I work out how to incorporate some of them into my writing. Also, without intention, I find myself using some of the techniques in my "routines". Of course, other people probably know them as diatribes at the bar, but I'm going to call them routines, and that's that.
++++
News that James "The Buck" Gilgunn started at Pokerstars yesterday. Gradually the London poker mafia takes over the UK Pokerstars operation. With luck that will give me an oportunity to snag another luncheon companion once a month or so.
