When I control all the world's media, today will be seen as the pivotal moment in the creation of my evil right-wing, money-making empire. Alternatively in about a year's time I'll look back and wish I hadn't bothered with my money-losing schemes and get a proper job. Or more likely, nothing much will change and I'll keep on churning out my half-arsed self-indulgent, alternating between funny and slightly embarrassing output. But whatever, we recorded our first videoed Leicester Square Podcast (or at least the first one we've done with the intention of selling it). My guest was Chris Addison, a man who, as you'll hear or see, I have shared many Edinburgh flats with where all kinds of incidents and mysteries occurred. We certainly went into depth with those.
The audience seemed a little bit reserved, but I think that was down to it being a warm bank holiday Monday and they were probably slightly weary from a weekend of fun. I berated them half-jokingly and half-sincerely (as so much of my persona seems to be in these podcasts - even I am not quite sure of where the reality crosses over into fiction. I am slightly pretending to be something I am not, or maybe something I once was, a man bemused by his own failures and jealous of the success of his guests, wishing he had their lives. In reality (I think) I actually feel accidentally blessed to have lucked out with the life I have got, where I have relative anonymity, but full creative autonomy. Yet even so there's a vulnerability in putting myself in front of an audience with little prepared material and the knowledge that my mistakes and embarrassing failed jokes will almost certainly stay in the show. I guess that's what people like about it. I am not sure I'd really like me if I wasn't me. It was a really good show and Chris in particular was very witty, but afterwards I felt so mortified (by nothing in particular) that I couldn't sleep. I stayed up all night as it turned out - not to get lucky, just because my brain was whirring. It's a tough show to do. We talked for 90 minutes and you surf the laughs and then ride through the tiredness of both the performers and the audience. It's a fascinating journey and interesting that there is a recognisable rhythm to the way the conversation goes. I am immensely proud of this show and the fact that I have built it up from nothing and made it a modest success, but I nearly always leave the theatre feeling uncomfortable about my own stupidity. And now you'll be able to see my awkward face as my jokes fail to hit! What's not to love?
It'll be really interesting to see how this experiment goes and whether enough people pay for the video version for us to cover our costs, or if it is successful enough to fund other ideas. I don't know why I felt uncomfortable either - it was generally a really good show with lots packed in and plenty of laughs, without being sycophantic or refusing to ask awkward questions. I think it might just be that I have worked for the last twelve nights without a break.
I am very grateful for the hard work of producer Ben and the gofasterstripe team who travelled to Wales and back to film this and who would be returning the video to their editor back in Cardiff who aims to have the show edited together by Wednesday. We will release the audio and video versions simultaneously. The audio at the British Comedy Guide and iTunes for free. The video will be at
gofasterstripe.com for either £3.50 for the episode or £15 for a series pass.
Here's what I remembered about it when I got home at about half midnight - "Episode 17 Chris Addison. He's snogged someone who used to be a dead child and worked with Gail Porter, but did he punch a cupboard? Richard, fresh from his triumphant third place Sony, is back with guest Chris Addison, deliberately doing visual things to try and make you pay for the video version but still giving you the audio for free. It's the usual mixture of incompetence, awkwardness and petty jealousy, but luckily there's some funny stuff too! Which film is shitter, Sliding Doors or The Truman Show? Why must we all be grateful for the slaughter of World Wars? How do you make a merkin? Is cupboard cheese more dangerous than cocaine? You'll also find out a novel way to use a pencil. You've really got to see it to believe it!"
On the way in I had been standing on the Northern Line platform at Tottenham Court Road waiting for a tube south to Leicester Square. As I waited a couple of young men ambled past the waiting commuters, walking in what they imagined was a cool way. One of them held a half-empty bottle of brandy and the other had a mobile phone blasting out aggressive music. They walked slowly past everyone, looking us in the eye, singing along to the lyrics, which seemed mainly to involve that word that begins with n. They were enjoying the power they had over the strangers they were passing, knowing that they were intimidating, but also aware that it was unlikely anyone would stand up to them, but perhaps hoping they would so they could hurt them. Just as one of the skinny youths passed me he sang something along the lines of "I am going to pop you in the face" whilst leaning in close to me delivering these words right at the face he was going to pop. I thought about saying something. I had greatly admired the woman who had dared to confront the murderers in Woolwich and whilst what these two boys were doing was not comparable, they were being anit-social and scaring people and maybe someone should have pointed this out to them. But then again I didn't want to be popped in the face. Or hit in the face with a brandy bottle, so I was a coward and let it pass, whilst keeping a casual eye on them in case they actually properly harassed anyone. It was just a show of youthful bravado and letting it go was almost certainly the correct course of action, but it did leave me a little shaken and upset.
Next week I am hosting a new radio quiz show called Bad Language in Glasgow. There are two shows per night on the 4th, 5th and 7th June. You can get free tickets
here.
