Mother has gone. Thank fuck for that. The toilet (and the couch!) smelt of cabbage mixed with an alley opposite a nightclub. Packed the two love swings. Why she needs two I don't know.
The gig at the Gastro Pub in Lancaster was a effing disaster. Ignorant fuckers. Me and Martin were doing killer material. And did they look up from their pear tarts and puttanesca pasta. Did they buggery. I think someone laughed at a joke. It was a routine me and Martin do about Punch raping Judy. But it was one of those "ironic" laughs that Malcolm told me about.
You only get them down south and Lancaster.
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