An interesting point on how this blog is produced (correction a point on how it's produced): I sometimes write what's happening on the day it happened (or at least the waking day). Sometimes it's written a week or even longer later. The available detail varies. Sometimes I start writing what's coming from my head as words and make a typo. Sometimes I reword the sentence around the word I accidentally typed, rather than fix it. This is how much I seem to care about getting the right words and right detail. The result is... well this.

I've not one clue why tonight's gig got its name - Filthy Mess. It was well organised, but it wasn't really well attended. I'll be honest, I've played less sparse rooms with more people in them. I've also played rooms that seem less sparse and yet have fewer people than those who attended. There were simply more seats than people in a big room. However, I wasn't going to let that get in the way of having some fun.

The night was just in progress as I arrived in Cambridge and walked to the venue, which was within the grounds of a hospital. It was a charity gig, so I had lowered my expectations for how forgiving the audience might be of my rather cheap brand of pseudo-intellectual pseudo-filth. I even decided I would, from my "headline" spot, have a crack at some newer jokes. Why not!? What's the worst that could happen?

As it was, the night was very well-natured and I had a really nice time on stage. I had a bit of banter with the audience, I had some nice laughter from the nice people of the crowd. It was pleasant and worthy of the trip. In fact, the momentary jumping around with excitement at pictures of my skip (one of the other performers is a skip fan) made the trip worthy in itself.

I drove home happy.