mostly david ephgrave

Frustratingly, I’ve had to pull out of tonight’s Hitchin Mostly Comedy as I’ve contracted some sort of Death Plague over the past two days, which has really knocked me for six (to use a cliché). The timing’s annoyed me as I had some new material earmarked for tonight that I really wanted to scratch off the list and get out in the open, but ultimately, it wasn’t worth putting myself through it when my concentration is shot. If it were just the gig it wouldn’t be so bad, but Mostly Comedy days are always long; too long to keep on top of yourself when you’re head’s pounding and your skin feels like someone’s running a scouring pad over you. What’s striking tonight is Glyn’s and my longtime friend and director Glen Davies will be hosting tonight in our place, which is marked, as for years, I’ve tried to call his bluff and make him do a spot at the club. It just so happens he has comedy on his mind this year as he’s taking his first stand-up show to the...

“…and the prize for the longest running, most mucus-producing cold goes to…” (Dramatic pause.) “…David Ephgrave, for David Ephgrave’s Longest Running, Most Mucus-Producing Cold.” (No-one claps. David produces mucus.)   Being ill at the end of the year isn’t a shock; it goes with the territory. People who moan that they're suffering from low-level sicknesses, particularly on social media, are also very irritating. Though I know this, I’m still going to say it: “I’m fucking sick of this fucking cold I’ve got”. ("Language, Timothy.") It’s isn’t even my first cold this month; it’s Cold #2. A fortnight ago, after losing and then regaining my voice, I assumed I was out of the worst. God, was I wrong. By Christmas Eve, the germs had reworked their black magic; so much so that I was back to communicating with Marcel Marceau-like gestures by the 27th of December. I may still be poorly, but I’ve mastered appearing to walk against the wind with aplomb and fine...