I had my 3rd game of football in 4 days today. A Scottish select were playing against a team of Norwegians across for a boozy weekend.
Predictably Scotland lost, but we put up a stubborn resistance, and I'm sure Berti Vogts would have found some reasonable excuses for our defeat, were he our manager.
Their goalkeeper had played for a semi-pro Norwegian club, and had apparently played against AS Roma. He had the biggest hands I've ever seen in my life. They were like these big foam hands that wacky people tend to wear at football matches and in the "Gladiators" studio audience.
I could hardly walk after the game, and I think my knees are desperately trying to tell me something. I might have to cancel my River Dance appearances, or at the very least miss out on the Matinees.
At night I did my first stand-up for a month at the "Four Ways Bar" in Airdrie.
It wasn't my finest hour, but I got fairly respectable laughs throughout. Nothing to write home about though.
I tried a Dalek routine that myself and Dave Reilly had come up with while bantering before the recent Karl Heinz Stockhausen show.
It concerned the predeliction of the Dalek to reach a sexual climax prematurely, thus explaining the reason why there was only one left.
Unfortunately, it bombed :-)....However, I blame my rather poor delivery, not the material itself, and I will give it another couple of run outs before making a final judgement.
It's amazing how quickly you lose your timing. It's just been a 4 week gap, but I was all over the place, getting the sequences of material wrong, missing bits out.
I reckon you need to do at least a gig a week to keep everything ticking over.
