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On a whim I had downloaded an app called Smart Alarm (I had seen it advertised on Facebook, proving that maybe that does work after all). It promises to monitor your sleep cycles (not totally convinced that's possible) and more excitingly record any noises you make during the night. For £1.49 that seemed worth the risk that the whole thing was money-stealing bullshit.
Not only would this be a chance to find out if I talk in my sleep and check I am not giving away any secrets (an old girlfriend of mine used to talk through her dreams, my favourite one was when she said with genuine child-like wonder, "Mushrooms as big as houses!"), but I would also get to find out how bad my snoring is. I was hoping my weight loss might have put paid to this annoying condition, but it seems there is still more weight to shift if I wish to tell my wife she can throw away her ear plugs. According to the stats I snored at 1.04am and then again from 1.11 until 1.21. At least I think it's snoring. It might be very consistent farting. I may play a little bit of it on the audio version of the blog, though it's pretty horrific. I know many of you hope in your heart that you might one day be lucky enough to share a bed with me. I think that should put you off. Although maybe there's a few pigs out there who would now like to get beneath the sheets with me.
But as ashamed as I am, it's mainly cool that an iPhone is able to do this. And it has the added benefit of you being able to make a graph of the times you go to the bathroom in the night. And probably also it might one day be used to solve a crime or reveal a secret. On the downside the alarm wakes you up early if it thinks you might be in danger of oversleeping. Still cool though. I doubt I will use it every day, but it was worth £1.49 to find out what an awful monster I am to live with. As ever this is an unsolicited and unpaid for endorsement. The only meaningful kind.
In further proof of my hideous monstrocity I had my cyst stitches removed today. The nurse who did it was the one who before Christmas had told me to lose 25kg. She didn't remember that of course. She looked at her computer and told me that my cholestrol was high. I pointed out that I had lost over 20 pounds since that reading was taken. She looked surprised. "How did you do that?" she said. I wanted to say, "Why are you so astonished? I am just doing what you told me to do. Were those empty words? Did you not think I would take heed? Don't you even realise that your warnings sent me on course to prove medical science wrong by losing 25kg and then coming back here and showing you how awful I look?"
But I just said, "By exercising and counting calories."
She took my blood again to see if there was any improvements.
And much as I want to prove that the BMI is ridiculous nonsense, I have to say that now at about the halfway point to my goal I am still looking quite chubby. But that does not mean that I can lose another 12kgs without looking like a skellington. I am going to come back here at Christmas and really show this woman how ludicrous she is. And she'll say, "Sorry, I don't really remember what you're talking about. I see a lot of patients."
My aim was to be under 85kg by the end of May, but with a bit of a final push I might be under 84. I seem to be maintaining the commitment. I don't know if I can really get to 72kg, but I am hopeful that I might get under 80.
And I am getting into the swing of things with the play. It's still early days and I am just seven rough pages into the thing, but now it has my full attention the swirling vortex of information and ideas is starting to take on some shape. Sometimes the task is overwhelming and sometimes I just feel so lucky that this is my job and excited about the prospect of creating something so difficult. Today writing felt like a joyous thing.
Tonight I did a stand up gig in Shoreditch Town Hall, down in the basement whch was a labyrinth of small brick rooms, not unlike where Rasputin would (allegedly) meet his fate. I managed about 30 minutes of material for Lord of the Dance Settee, which is also a hopeful sign, though not sure about how much of it will be in the final show.
Thanks to all that donated to the We're All
Going To Die! tour Scope collection. I finished the coin count today and it raised £18,472.47 (£23,316.30
including online donations). Utterly brilliant! We've raised over
£250,000 like this since 2003. Still no blue parking badge for me though, the ungrateful wretches. I will keep raising money for them until they give me one. I may not have thought this through.
Want to contribute to this year's fund and get limited edition programme with your name in? donate £15 or more here.
This Day in History with Robot Voice (TDIHWRV) is getting a bit out of hand. If you only read the old-fashioned written version of this blog you are missing out on something extraordinary. Not in a good way. Listen here. Thanks to Matt Whitby for the accompanying illustration.
And the RHLSTP (EATMCFLY) with Mike Wozniak is now up at the British Comedy Guide and iTunes. We'll be back with more in the autumn. If you think that series was worth a pound (or more) to you, please consider making a one-off or monthly donation here. Monthly donators get a secret channel of extras and entry into a monthly draw. This month you can win my Chortle Awards goodie bag including an Alcatel smartphone, comedy DVDS (including an exclusive Stewart Lee Alternative Comedy Experience signed by me) and some comedy Top Trumps. You get one entry to the draw for every pound a month that you donate. And you are helping fund future comedy projects (and Robot Voice's destruction of humanity).
