So I wrote a massive essay in reply to The Guardian article where 'young comedians' criticise and review Bill Hick's. However my love for the man has delayed me releasing it as it doesn't seem quite good enough. So in the meantime here's a little story from last week.
I was outside the theatre near my work getting some air before I got on the tube home. I often get approached by social smokers seeing if I have cigarettes so they don't have to buy them, tourists who seem to think this scraggily bear has better direction advice then app that usually satellite technology to map the earth and beggars looking for change.
I do give out change, partly because it usually just falls out my pockets like sonic the hedgehog falling on a spike and losing all the coins you spent the whole level building. So I might as well give it to someone who needs it, hoping if I give out enough change at least one out of ten will use it for what they say they will.
So a man comes towards me on a 'Boris' bike. He was a middle aged, middle class, white man with glasses. The sort of nondescript, smiley bloke who would be a presenter on some BBC breakfast show.
He slows down and I assume out of the three categories he'll be asking for direction. He looks at me with an awkward smile and speaks to me in a gentle, RP accent.
"A quick question...", ok I think, which theatre or private members club I don't know does he want me to point him to.
"Well its sort of a bad question actually..." now I think, so is he soliciting me for sex and if so how much would he have to offer for me to do it.
"I'm looking for a new cocaine dealer, I don't suppose you..." Ah so now I'm finding out that I look like a cocaine dealer, at least to this TV weatherman gone bad. Sadly, I had to disapoint him as the only drug I have a regular stock of is Loperamide and Im pretty sure turning diarrhea into constipation isn't enough of a buzz for someone looking for a cocaine high.
It did give me an idea though, a drug dealer must meet so many different types of people, with regular, dedicated fans. So if there's any drug dealers out there how about you promote my 'product' (stand-up show) to your customers and i'll promote your's to desperate, posh men who can't afford their own bicycle presumably because they snorted all their money up their nose.
I'll let you decide whether that's an actual offer or just me trying to inflate a slightly amusing but unsurprising story into a full blog post, like a Brit Pop band using all the songs that weren't good enough for the first album to cash-in with a second.
Let's do this again sometime,