If my careers advisor Mr Chilcott could see me browsing government websites to find out if a self-employed performer is eligible for any financial relief, he'd be laughing on the other side of his sepia-toned head, the fucking git.
Yes, that's right: his bonce followed a strict, olde-worlde colour scheme like he'd been photographed on a Victorian filmstock; that, or he'd been forged from melted-down Olympic medals, with a bronze face, silver hair and gold glasses (think of the strength it took to nod it). And it wasn't just his head that was reminiscent of days of yore, as his brain followed outdated thought patterns too. Consequently, he told me that being an actor & musician wasn't a real job, and I should consider being a teacher instead.
Well, in your jaundiced face, Mr Chilcott, as most teachers aren't working now too. Didn't see that coming, did you? Admittedly, they're protected by salaries, unions and the like, while all I've got is the ability to book a top-class comedy line-up with nowhere safe for them to perform. And I can't go back to touring - not that I'd want to - and have no castings coming in as I'm between agents. But at least I'm happy (in a clinically depressed sense).
That's a far too miserable way to end a blog post, so here's a Google Photos collage of a Mostly Comedy that took place three years ago today with Hal Cruttenden on the bill: remember when we could do gigs?
