mostly david ephgrave

A poster in a pub toilet, promising a set from 'one of the best Freddie Mercury tribute acts in the country' for a ticket price of £2 is either hyperbolic to-the-extreme or one hell of a loss-leader. It's not that I'm knocking them for providing a competitively priced night out - my comedy club proves I'm all-for-it - but there's a lot to be said for promoting your event accurately; to offer admission for less than a pint is to shoot yourself in the foot, metaphorically speaking, however cheap your overheads. And if the performer puts in the performance of a lifetime for just two quid, imagine what they'd do for £4.50. Not to mention how awkward it would be to watch such a flamboyant tribute in a low-ceilinged public bar; it doesn't bear thinking about. Imagine if he caught your eye; I'd be doing everything I could to swallow my own tongue as protection. And how would he tackle Barcelona if it's in the set? Would he perform it with a  Mo...

It's nice to see my dog get more and more used to being in a public place like a pub and not be phased by it. Today, I met my friend Stephen who'd come down from the Midlands for a catch-up, and during that conversation, Elwood lay on the pub floor, perfectly relaxed and totally on standby; if he had appointments to keep, he didn't let this show. While he's always been pretty accepting of whatever you expect of him - the dog, not Stephen - he's become even more so very recently, which is lovely to see. He knows we're his owners and he tries to please us. Previously, he would have taken longer to settle in a pub, if he ever settled at all, yet today he was quickly fast asleep, which meant I could relax too without worrying that he was on edge; ultimately, he's a very good boy. As for my time with Stephen, it was good to catch up. We briefly discussed the dates we're doing at Bath Comedy Festival next week - Stephen is supporting me there - and did t...

Don’t you just hate it when your office stinks of rhubarb? This standard problem usually comes about as a result of your dad giving you a plastic bag of the stuff - picked from his garden - when you met him for coffee earlier in the week. Then, because you were going out for a meal that evening without going home first, you had no choice but to leave it in your office overnight, rather than take it to the restaurant. We’ve all been there more than once. There are worse things an office could smell of; the manure you might spread over the rhubarb to help it grow, for example. I’d rather have the whiff of future crumble in the air than the stench of shit, as I’ve always said; it’s a maxim I live my life by, which is surprising, as I’ve only just come up with it; that’s how profound those words are to me. It was nice to meet my dad, as it gave me a break from the work I’d been doing all day, which mainly consisted of booking previews and writi...

Anyone looking to rekindle the awe, magic and merriness of an early childhood Christmas should visit the Winter Wonderland I saw in a village pub the other day. Until then, I would have suggested Claridge’s or Hamley’s as the perfect festive destination (depending on your budget), but they've since been usurped. I now know you'd be better off heading for Bedfordshire than for the bright lights of Regent Street. Look at that beautiful woodland scene; just a few minutes at that table would lift the mood of the most mean-spirited Grinch. What more could anyone want than a couple of chairs, a pamphlet holder and a hastily thumb-tacked wipe-clean landscape? Who cares that the sign is about to come free from its Sellotape, ready to fall to the ground like that banner in Jurassic Park? Stotfold’s Winter Wonderland has all the mod-cons; it's got two coasters. Two. Speaking of Claridge’s, I did a gig there once, playing keys for a Fi...