A tale of three beards, "Not you again?", Oh and Jack Whitehall...

Just a quicky...

On Wednesday I went down to see Mr. Felix to get my hair cut & dyed, my beard shaped & dyed and a cup of tea - because I'm worth it. We managed not to get too homo-erotic during the beard trimming although I had ramped things up by purchasing a (resealable) bag of mini chocolate fingers. I asked him to shape it a little more angular than it had been previously and we have christened it "The Pointy B". He was quite pleased that my beard had its own name, The beard dye at one point didn't look like it was going to do what it said on the tin...

Hmm - I don't remember asking for a camo beard...

...but it all worked out in the end. I went round to my folks house later on and my dad didn't take the mickey. I think he was relieved that I looked younger than him again - this is the beard untinted:

My unadulterated beard, making me look particularly ancient next to the eternally youthful Chris Black (At least thirty years my senior)

So all in all it appeared to have been a success. I did a gig at The Waterfront in Brentwood last night (Thursday) and had an excellent time. This was a threefold relief. The booker of the gig has a lot of shows and hadn't seen me in a while, the drummer of the band who asked me to write the sleeve notes for their new CD was there oh and Jack Whitehall was on after me. Jack is now very famous and nearly eight years old. He's also a very accomplished stand up. There is, however, something of the humble open spot about him that remains, rather sweetly. I spied him in the restaurant at the gig, queueing up for a five quid carvery without any airs or graces. He is a down-to earth human being and several others in his position would do well to follow his example. When I later saw him upstairs I asked him how he enjoyed his dinner:

"I paid for it - I didn't get it for nothing!"

He exclaimed, as if feeling he genuinely had no rights to get it buck shee. I laughed and a hundred precious acts roared into my head, moaning that their complimentary food was cold or their drink hadn't arrived yet - I've done it myself - I really was quite moved. Anyway - the curiously-shaped compere did a decent enough job and I had a really lovely time. "Follow THAT, Whitehall!" I thought to myself as I walked off. He did.

I nipped round the corner then to The Barhouse to try and catch the end of Pussycat & The Dirty Johnsons set as (by happy accident) they were continuing their tour within two minutes drive of my gig. I didn't, but I did see them all out the back and a bizarre conversation ensued where I offered a humble apology for screaming at them the week before in Bristol and they assured me it had been great, at one point they referred to me as "The fifth member of the band" (For any Americans reading this, I refuse to be known as "The Fifth Johnson") and the whole thing was recorded and the only reaction you could hear at the end of each song was me screaming "Yeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!" and then just saying, rather sternly, "Daddy Long Legs". They complimented me on my freshly-dyed beard, saying it took years off me. Mike the bass player came up with the line of the night when he said "I don't know why you bleached it white in the first place".

I replied "I'm just glad it washed out".