Sound the bagpipes and raise your kilts high above your tam o’shantered heads, I have arrived, here in the shortbread capital of the world – Edinburgh!
Disaster, albeit of a very comedic kind, struck before I set foot off the train. Paul, who’s been here for a few day rehearsing his other show, a shadow puppet film noir comedy “The Accidental Dog Detective”, popped into our venue to pick up some flyers, only to discover that instead of 5000 A5 flyers and 100 A1 posters, we have ended up with about 10,000 A4 versions of the flyer! THEY ARE HUGE! They look utterly ridiculous and weight a ton. 100 flyers is like a ream of paper you’d put in a printer. I’m using one as a quilt.
We’re nads deep in one of the classic fringe fuck ups. It’s very bad. We’ve tried folding them and they look shit! Even if someone did take one they would have to fold it a minimum of four times to fit it comfertably in to their pocket.
Both Paul and I agree it’s a school boy error, but it has thus far been an undeniably good thing. Everyone you try to give a flyer to thinks it’s hilarious! We even got asked for our autographs earlier by some girls who were genuinely convinced that our large flyer was a sign of comedy status. They really did think were were famous and I did nothing to dissuade them.
In fairness the star treatment started as soon as I set foot off the train, when I was picked up by flame haired cleaner Cheryl and her colleague, driver and if we’re being pedantic, the actual provider of the ‘lift’, Gail. Cheryl has almost exactly the same hair as me, check the show pictures below, and image a pretty, young woman’s face under the titian canopy rather than my booze puffed visage!
Getting me ensconced in my flat was their last job of the week and understandably the pair of them were were itching to get away. The traffic was murder. Apparently they were off to a beach party later that evening in an area called Portobello that I pretended I’d heard of. The fact it was pissing down didn’t seem to worry them in the slightest. What I liked was that the beach party was nothing to do with the festival, they were doing it regardless and invited me to go along if I fancied. Sadly, I didn’t bring my trunks with me, so I decided to give it a miss.
So, Cheryl dropped me off at the flat, a one bed place at the top of a large block just behind the castle and a stones throw from The Grassmarket. Essentailly slap bang in the middle of the action. It’s great, and I get the feeling will provide worthy quarters for the next few weeks semi professional poncing about.
As for Flyergate, we have managed to arrange a print shop here in Edinburgh to run us off some a A5 flyer which will be with us by Wednesday. Until then it’s the gargantuan posterettes.
I’m doing the Comedy manifesto tomorrow/today/ Saturday at 4pm (can’t remember the venue but it’s in the brochure). I’ll be the one handing out huge piece of paper at the end of the show.
