Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Hitchin's Diana Ross.


Either people have started recognising me locally, or I look weird.

I guess it's not that surprising that the people in my area might know my face, what with the comedy club I run, the theatre stuff I’ve done here, and the fact my band were popular in Hertfordshire back in the day. I’ve achieved the lowest level of celebrity: I'm 'Big in Hitchin'; if I could just break Cambs, Beds and Bucks, I’d be on my way to bagging Anglia and the South East.

The downside to this bijou fame is I feel self-conscious doing mundane things, like buying toilet roll or going to the doctors’. I feel like Wings caught in the spotlight on the cover of Band on the Run: everyone knows the sick, twisted things I’ve been up to (just ask my GP).

One thing I often forget is how loud I’m speaking in a pub or a coffee shop, and that I may be overheard. I’ll be moaning about a time I felt slighted, or orating my opinion of a gig or a venue, without considering whose ears may be around me. It’s like a shit version of the WW2 ‘Careless Talk Costs Lives’ campaign, with the Town Centre Manager in place of Hitler; imagine what it would be like if the local paper knew my controversial standpoint; I’d never waitress in Torquay again.

This must be what it’s like to be Justin Bieber, or Billy Pierce.

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