mostly david ephgrave

At the risk of sounding like an old man, my knee’s been playing up for the past few weeks. It’s something I’ve suffered from on and off for a few years that’s become markedly worse in recent months. I’ve seen a chiropractor regularly since I slipped a disk in my back thirteen years ago (unlucky for me) so I’m fully aware problems like this often stem from compensating for an injury elsewhere in the body, but whatever the cause, it's reached the point where walking can be painful and kneeling down's a near impossibility; I couldn’t join with an NFL protest if I wanted to. At my last chiropractor appointment, he suggested I have it x-rayed, as my problem joint - I call him Mr Right - feels and moves differently to my left, so it’s worth ruling out the possibility of the early stages of arthritis. He said my GP would probably be reticent to do this - he was correct - but at it would be good to get the issue on record at least. The GP recommend...

Today was one of those ‘put your shoulder out while towel-drying your hair’ days. It’s annoying when such a small thing is the straw that breaks the camel’s back - or in this instance, the Ephgrave’s back - but that’s often the case with this type of injury. I’ve had problems with my shoulder for years, so it often gets me, but while on most occasions the pain subsides after a couple of hours, this has been one of those times when it’s been playing up all day. This will no doubt lead to an impromptu chiropractor appointment tomorrow if they can squeeze me in, but better that than wait until I’m next scheduled to see them, which is fortnight away with a fair few gigs in between; when you spend so much time performing with a projector screen to your right, it’s nice if you can occasionally turn to look at it without making a guttural, primal sound from the core of your being whenever you try. Putting personal pain to one side, today was prett...

I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my shoulder this morning while stretching in bed. There aren’t many people who could injure themselves by doing nothing; it’s a talent. If I can inflict pain and discomfort on myself when I'm lying in a relaxed state, just think what I can do standing up; by replicating the Angel of the North’s stance I would break every bone in my body. I didn’t realise how much I used my shoulder until I injured it. It turns out it’s my integral joint. My left shoulder is my Achilles’ heel, which is a hell of a setback on my sideline as a body-popper. Henceforth, you’ll only see me in a neck brace.

I’ve been feeling sorry for myself ever since I banged my head on one of my kitchen cupboards on Saturday evening. It happened while I was in the midst of an act of kindness: making a cup of tea for my wife. On opening the cupboard, a bag of loose-leaf tea fell out onto the floor. I bent down to retrieve it, and stood up suddenly, forgetting I’d left the door open. I smacked into the underside of it with force, leading to a fair amount of swearing and a tiny bit of blood. It wasn’t my finest tea-making moment. Kitchengate is a metaphor for my life: I do too much at once. The last few days have been a case in point, where practically every waking moment has been taken up with trying to secure the best possible line-ups for Mostly Comedy in the New Year (I exaggerate a little, though the truth isn’t far off). When June’s show sold out at speed on Saturday morning, rather than see this as a chance to relax, I started to worry about all the line-ups we...

I’ve strained my wrist. [INSERT YOUR PUNCHLINE HERE.] The annoying thing about being a man with a wrist injury is that if you mention it to anyone, you get the same knowing look: a look that says, “I bet I know how you did that. A little too enthusiastic, were we?”. It’s the same when you catch a cold; complain once and you’re accused of suffering from man flu. I’d happily get pneumonia if only to show these people up. Men can be ill too, you know. I’ve always had weak wrists [INSERT PUNCHLINE NUMBER TWO]. It stems from being a guitarist. I’d often have problems on tour. If you’re playing for two hours a night in different conditions and at varying temperatures, it’s easy to strain them. You’d then never have sufficient time to let them heal. I’ve put up with it since I was in a band as a teenager. Though I seldom play these days, it still flares up; it wreaks havoc with my juggling. It happens to my right hand most often, which isn’t so bad, as I’m left handed. I can st...