Skip to main content

"You'll Have to Speak Up, I'm Wearing a Towel."


I had to cancel today’s show despite having a good turnout (for me), for the simple reason I couldn’t hear a bloody thing.

The cause was both dull and grim in equal measure: I occasionally have too much earwax for my own good, which is related to my whole vertigo situation, which at its worst will block my ear canal so much that no sound can get in (or out, should it need to); this is particularly the case when I’m rundown, which I clearly am at the moment. I had a similar problem before a show last year too, although it cleared itself just at the right moment; I had my fingers crossed that the same would happen today, but no such luck. I’d gone so far as to walk behind the curtain ready to make my entrance, but had been struggling so much to hear while chatting with my technician Robert just before - who’ll probably spot his name when this blog post briefly pops up on the screen at the end of my show tomorrow, so HI ROBERT - that I got into a bit of a panic, and decided it was best to pull the show, rather than put myself through an hour of being unable to tell if I was pitching anything right.

I just kept thinking about the time I hosted Mostly Comedy a few months back when my ear was similarly blocked; I was doing ten minutes at the top on my own as Glyn wasn’t there and it was like performing inside a vacuum. It was completely disorientating and panic-inducing, as I couldn’t rely on my own senses, which is pretty essential when you’re performing comedy; it was so bad I couldn’t even time a laugh, which made me sweat a lot for even me.

Here’s hoping it will be better tomorrow. I’ve been a good boy and have been regularly using my ear medicine, all while keeping one eye on the nearest hearing aid shops in Edinburgh that offer earwax removal. If all else fails, I’ll invest in an ear trumpet; I love my life.
Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

Shakerpuppetmaker.

Have Parker from Thunderbirds and Noel Gallagher ever been seen in the same room? The resemblance is uncanny. So much so, I think something’s afoot. If my suspicions are correct, I've stumbled across a secret that will blow the music and puppet industry wide apart. In the mid-60s / mid-90s at least. It doesn’t take long to see the signposts. There’s the similarity between the name of Oasis’ first single, Supersonic, and Supermarianation, Gerry Anderson’s puppetry technique. The Gallagher brothers would often wear Parkas . Live Forever was clearly a reference to Captain Scarlet and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants to the size difference between Noel and his bandmates. The more you think about it, the more brazen it gets. It’s fishier than Area 51, Paul is Dead and JFK's assassination put together. The only glitch to the theory is scale . According to Wikipedia, Anderson’s marionettes were 1’10” and Gallagher is 5’8”. How does he maintain an illusion of avera...
Read more

'...I'm Gonna Look at You 'til My Eyes Go Blind."

Over the past week or two, I’ve been on a bit of a Sheryl Crow kick, largely thanks to rediscovering her cover of one of my most-liked Bob Dylan songs. She has one of my favourite female voices, yet despite this, I only own one CD and that’s just a single (her '97 release ‘Hard to Make a Stand’); on that basis, you can only imagine how much of her back catalogue I’d own if I hated her (it would fall into minus-figures). Dylan, conversely, takes up more of my collection than anyone else, save The Beatles and Paul McCartney’s solo work. He’s one of those artists who, when you get him, you really get him - and once I’d tuned into his style as a student, I'd time and again be blown away by his lyrics; he’ll have more jaw-dropping imagery in one track than other people fit in a whole career. These days, I mostly listen to music in the morning when getting ready, and more often than not, this will consist of a suggested YouTube playlist when I’m in the bath, r...
Read more

Stevenage: A (Tiny) River Runs Through it.

If ever a river was mis-sold, it’s the Roaring Meg in Stevenage. I just walked past it on my way to the retail park that has taken its name. They’re similarly uninspiring. The river is less of a roar and more of a dribble; cystitis sufferers produce greater flow. The retail park is soulless. What was once a thriving enterprise is nearly devoid of atmosphere, save an underlying essence of emptiness and despair. With a Toys R Us. When it was first built I was excited. Back then, the thought of a bowling alley, an ice rink, a Harvester and a Blockbuster Video within a small surface area was enticing. I celebrated many birthdays on site. There was an indoor cricket pitch there for a while where I once had a joint party with a friend. Why someone with an almost pathological fear of sport would agree to such a venture is beyond me, but I did it. Now, there’s very little at the Roaring Meg of note. The river would be a metaphor for the shopping ce...
Read more