Now then, disciples.

I’ve had a full couple of weeks, with two weddings, trips to and fro, some sweetly surprising gigs, and unearthing the photo below in a dusty folder on my desktop..

Grand National Weekend in Liverpool is often a time of great suffering for the local tribespeople, whose carefully cultivated reputation for leading calm, well-mannered, orderly lives, can be thrown into disarray like so much monkey shit by the arrival on Merseyside of some boxes of horses, and the accompanying hordes of meat in clothes. Were the same policy to be applied to fallen women as to horses, the streets would run redder, and Shami Chakrabati would have a fit. Having said that, I managed to not only survive, but actively enjoy both gigs, both Friday and Saturday  (http://www.laughterhousecomedy.com/ if you’re in Liverpool: I’m next playing for them on June 16/7/8 and 23/4 September) though how the fiercely lovely team of Penny, Lee & Dave manage to put up with the sewer whiff in the Slug and Lettuce passeth my understanding. Penny was kind enoug to say that she laughed ’til she cried, but I’m paranoid enough to think she was talking about the evening as a whole, rather than just my bit..

Anyway, if you’re thinking of getting a dog, you should bear in mind that this product wouldn’t exist without a market for it. Bleak, bleak, bleak. That it only deters them too. I’d have hoped that the fact it was actual jobby would have done the trick alone, but noooo.

By all that is holy, really?

I do, however, draw solace from the fact that there’s a graphic designer somewhere who got paid for the little silhouette in the corner.