Raisin's Revenge

I went to see the fabulous Richard Herring last night. He was playing a gig at the New Globe just next to the green bridge in Mile End, which was basically a dummy run for his Edinburgh Festival set. (The gig, not the bridge.) It was as good as it promised to be and I was very entertained. However, I cannot remember a lot of the things he said although he did do the fight scene in which he tells the story of how he was in a very comical fight outside a Liverpool bar. (Which you can find posted on his blog - I'll post the link here soon). He was supported by three acts which got better and better as the night went on. Fergal, a guy who works at the same place as me, turned up, proving once again what a small world it is. I chatted to him and his mates from Sheffield for a bit before the show. Fergal seems like a cool dude. He had informed me earlier in the day that he was going to the gig and he had also been to the same venue a week previously to watch Stewart Lee.

After the show I got a chance to speak to Richard himself, and I gave him my feedback by telling him that I enjoyed his set immensely. Unable to find a way to strike up a conversation, I told him that I was thinking of starting out as a stand-up and asked his advice. (There is some truth in it - i wouldn't mind giving it a go, but i did make it out to be more of an ambition than it actually is.) Still- he very kindly gave me some advice; basically along the lines of "Write some good stuff and just go for it" and touched upon when he was starting out doing stand up and how he hated it but then later realised that it was the thing that makes you as a comedian. The second act who had been on, a guy called Toby something, was more helpful as he had not been on the circuit for too long and was sort of starting out himself. He told me about dealing with stage fright and explained the stories behind some of his material. Maybe I will try to write some. But I think Mr. Herring's job is safe.

On Saturday afternoon I went out to the west end to buy a few bits. I bought myself two t-shirts, one Pantera and one System of a Down, and a spiked bracelet which I think goes with my outfit nicely. WHilst browsing through Madhouse on Oxford Street I saw a T-Shirt which said "I haven't got Tourettes, you're just a cunt". I immediately thought of Dean and was feeling a little generous so I thought I'd buy it for him. I had a frappucino, then walked around for a while and then got the tube home.

As I entered the tube I was feeling a bit thirsty so I bought a red bull from the vendor next to Tottenham Court Road tube. That was a mistake. Frappucino and Red Bull apparently do not mix. I got home, got ready to go out and suddenly felt extremely woozy and light headed. In fact I thought I was going to be sick a few times. Me and Dean got to the Camden Head and met Alfie, then we went around the corner to a pub near Will's house called the Crown, to meet with Will and Jenna who were eating olives like a couple of sophisticated people. I felt out of place in my metal garb and sure enough, I got asked for ID by the barman who was younger than me, who had a look in his eye that made me feel about as welcome as a copy of Zoo in a convent. They also apparently did not have any guinness, so I asked the rest of the guys if they wouldn't mind going elsewhere as I felt a bit funny and didn't think I could stomach anything other than Guinness. (I hope I wasn't to much of a pain) but the place we went to, the Albion, is a very nice little pub indeed. Very respectable and in a little corner of Barnsbury that not many people frequent, and as a result it is very quiet. In fact if you close your eyes you might think that you were out in the country somewhere. I could not believe that I got in without the slightest air of suspicion from either of the two sturdy looking bouncers (Perhaps they thought I was in a band or something - apparently you do get quite a few celebrities frequenting the Albion; just the other week Will got stared at in there by Jonny Lee Miller.)

I was highly impressed with the bar staff's flaring ability. I was less impressed with my new nickname. Will and Dean were having a discussion and Will said that Dean needed a nickname. Someone suggested "Big D" and the new nickname was born. It suits him and he seemed content with it. Then I opened my big mouth and said "How come I don't get a nickname!" Which sparked a bit of a discussion during which somebody suggested "Raisin" as a take on "Raven". I'm sorry to say that it stuck. I am now known as a dried fruit that i hate. I don't just disike raisins, i actually really hate them. I don't just pick them out of pastries, I squash them as if they are little bugs. Which they are just about as welcome as in any pastry I might choose. But it sparked a bit of an identity crisis for me and that coupled with the fact that I was still suffering from a red bull and iced coffee overdose put a bit of a downer on the rest of the night. (For me anyway.)

It was still fun though, we went from there to the Mucky Pup where Jen fell in love with a postcard of a puppy standing on the pool table trying to go down one of the pockets. Somebody informed us that the dog in question was a regular and got it's name "Pocket" from doing just that. Perhaps I should have done something similar when the guys had been choosing my nickname earlier. I'd rather be known as "Pocket" than "Raisin" anyhow. (I'd probably rather be known as "Scummy Girl's Blouse" than Raisin.) Even Angus the guvnor joined in on the act, calling me "Raisin". I will have my revenge. Perhaps I will incite an army of sultanas to shrivel everyone to a shrivelled shrivel before shrivelling on to take over the world. Or maybe I'll just think of equally bad nicknames for everyone.