I'm sure I used to have a functioning brain. I blame the current inability to put myself into gear on the morning meeting I attended. This morning. I don't think even I can look too far into the past to complain about the effect of a meeting on my brain. In general, today hasn't been particularly friendly on my system. I also had some sort of eye test to go along with my general sense of yick. Oh, and I couldn't quite control myself when it came to a "tulip muffin", which is basically a muffin that's baked in a single sheet of paper folded in a way which looks like a tulip. In fairness to me, I cycled 12 miles last night and I only ate the muffin because it reminds me of my girlfriend's favourite flower.

I did buy some new eyedrops - well, not so much drops as a mist that you spray into your own face, for it to permeate into your eyes through the skin of the eyelids. This sounds like something from science fiction, but I've also researched Doctor Who a lot recently and it's not in that.

So, I feel bloated, farty and generally a bit knackered. This is a pre-emptive being-knackered, which is to prepare me for the mental month of May. The merry merry mental month of May. Statistically, this month is only a 12 gig month, and my threshold is 14 gigs. However, there's plenty of rehearsing to do on top of the gigs, and there is one particular week where it's really rather nutty. Conversely, I'm planning a holiday/break in June, so perhaps this will undo the stress of May. I'd like to think I'll have a chance in the next few days to do the ironing that will be necessary to make May a month where I don't end up using "the B-shirts" and walking through the hanging unironed shirts in my bedroom, much like David Attenborough making his way through an untamed jungle.

Tonight's gig is in Portsmouth. The night as a whole is an open-mic competition. I'm down to be the closing act, after the competition bit. This should be fun. In some ways I'm highly amused by new acts, either because of their freshness or their awkward fumbling. It's possible, of course, that there'll be the awful middle ground - polished awfulness - then it can be hard to find it enjoyable. However, I'm passionate enough about the process of comedy to consider this interesting enough to study. A bit like studying a turd stain on a carpet. Awful but fascinating.

In some ways, this analogy, comparing a bad stand-up, before you on the bill, to a hard to remove stain on the carpet is a good one. At some point, you know you're going to have to either remove the mess, or work around it. An audience is a fresh carpet at the start of the gig. Different acts may make the carpet mucky, worn out, tired, threadbare... much like this analogy is becoming... and each act has no way of ignoring precedent. That doesn't mean you have to only reference precedent. You can put a big sofa over a stain and still party on. I've no idea what I'm talking about any more. Still, all I'm saying is... erm... don't be that guy.

Good.

I finally managed to package into a single cardboard missive the posters and A6 flyers for the shows we're doing in Brighton mid-next-month.

Don't be afraid to check out The Great Big Comedy Picnic or The Seven Deadly Jokes. They'll both be brilliant!

And so, like a big glass jar, suddenly being filled with boiling water from the kettle, it's time to split. I'll try to write more later, though I can't accurately define when "later" will be. Sometime.