My Final Downfall.

To end my run with a cancelled show because just two people showed up was a bit of a damp squib, but at least it meant I could pack up in a more leisurely manner.

The only shame was it meant turning away the technician from Glyn's and my first Fringe run, Craig and his girlfriend - as they were the people who’d come to see it - though they of course understood it couldn’t go ahead, particularly when they were shown through about ten minutes late, when we were about to pack up. Frustratingly, it was their second attempt to see it too, but that’s the Law of Sod, which follows me around, though I’m very grateful they persisted.

The point is I need to be on at a better time if I’m going to do this again, as midday's far too early to do me any favours. I knew this before I came up, but despite being prepared for it, it was still a blow, particularly as my numbers suffered this year more than ever and it probably had a bearing on me getting reviewed too.

Once we’d decided we weren’t going ahead, my techie Rob and I packed everything up and carried it down to the venue’s entrance on Cowgate, where I bade Rob farewell and brought my taxi booking forward using their handy app (because we’re living in the future).

Have show, will travel (back to Hitchin, ideally).

Rob was definitely the run’s biggest asset and I’m so glad I asked him to upgrade from flyerer to button-presser when it became evident things weren’t working out with my first technician (which annoyingly come to a head on the same day I had press in). As with last year’s techie Michael, I struck gold with Rob, who was always on the ball and had just the right temperament, plus he was just good company; the last thing you want is to spend a month where the only other common factor each day is someone you can’t get in sync with.

Spin forward to the evening and my Downfall After-Party was enjoyed over a couple of glasses of wine and The Simpsons; who says debauchery's dead? Not me.

My wrap party (anarchy).