I have a performance lined up this coming Saturday and I’m trying to fit rehearsals into my already crowded schedule. What to do? What to do? I suppose common sense would dictate that I’m still at the trying-to-get-you-to-like-me stage in my career!

I’m also hampered somewhat by having the attention-span of a moth on crack, so I tend not to leave the same material in my set for any length of time. This helps with my overall boredom levels but probably doesn’t help engender familiarity in my audiences.

I recently uncovered some of my writing from the 1990s and I’m thinking of slipping in something from that era – just for old time’s sake.

The 1990s was a period of writing the way Vikings invaded villages and performing it around the UK and Europe, the way I had music in the previous decade. In other words, to very small audiences.

Plus, aw ae a sudden, it wis awright fur ivry cunt in aw yir writin ti say ‘canny’ an ‘dinny’ aw the time, ih? first time since about the time ae the thatcher election yi could say ‘cunt’ an aw.

The eighties – and political correctness – were finally dead and buried, thank fuck.

After yesterday’s relatively poor show, up today at 06:30 and by half-nine, I’m another three thousand words deeper into ‘dystopian’.

I’ve been looking forward to this sequence, I have to say. He’s arrived in a city I’ve based on Liverpool, where I used to live. So I get to mash up Maghull, Bootle, Kirkdale, Knotty Ash and the area around Moorfields station into a remix of the three-and-a-half years I spent there.

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