There's something odd about arriving at a venue to find a huge poster of yourself up. A big picture of my smiling face adorned a pub in Tewksbury as I arrived for my gig tonight. There were slightly more modest-sized versions of this poster, laminated... and then there was one in the back window of a car in the nearby car park... Weird.

In case you think I'm getting big headed, don't worry. I wouldn't mention it. I'm usually embarrassed more than ego-boosted by such things. Of course, it's worth mentioning owing to the clever comedy karma thing that goes on with this. They spelled my name incorrectly. Not my last name - Frieze - that would be easily misspelt. No no no. They got my first name wrong. They called me Ashely, which is what my grandmother might call me as a pet name. In fact she does.

Amusingly, they had been to my website to get the photos and quotes, so the fact that they got my name wrong suggests incompetence, spite, or that it simply isn't important. Let's go for the last one.

I could tell you tales of the heroics of the gig where it looked tough but I won the crowd over in the end. There's not a great deal of point. If I'm bigging myself up, then I'm a tosser. I don't need to do that. I'm already narcissistically talking about my every day on a website dedicated to myself. Let's just say that it could have gone either way and I actually had a good time with the crowd. "It's your sort of crowd" might be an insult when I hear it said to me... but it can be an asset to have a certain sort of crowd.

Anyway, it was nice to get back to Tewksbury and have a joke at the locals' expense.