Talking = PAIN.


Working on new material today has given me a headache.

I’m not referring to the difficulty of writing something, although it’s not been my most productive day; I mean it literally. Because the delivery of the stuff I’m working on is aggressive, the act of running through it has left me with a tension headache; only I could injure myself with words.

At least I’ve made a start, having lost a little momentum of late. As to whether it’s any good, only time will tell. I’ve recorded it on my phone, as I always do when I’m working something up, so I can listen to it with fresh ears tomorrow and then tinker as necessary. Anything I’m happy with, I’ll try at next week’s Mostly Comedy. The people of Hitchin are my guinea pigs; if they don’t enjoy me they’ll still see Arthur Smith, and Glyn and I’ll have their money in the bank. Everybody’s happy.

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