mostly david ephgrave

Within seconds of blowing my nose today, my dad asked me if I’ve got a cold. He always does this, without fail. It’s very frustrating. I only have to reach for a tissue for the question to meet his lips. As a result, I try to be more subtle. I wait until he looks away before I do it. One day this is going to backfire, with mucus-related consequences. I'm not sure why he equates a mere blow with having an illness. He must know that you sometimes need to do this. He’s had a nose for far longer than I have. One of these days, my answer will be "yes". When it is, I don't know how he’ll react.

Today, myself and Glyn spent the afternoon putting the finishing touches to our Leicester Festival show, Doggett & Ephgrave Project Stuff.   I think it’s in pretty good shape. We’ve made a point of cutting out a lot of the waffle that was slowing down the show the last time we performed it. As a result, it’s running a little under time (clocking in at about 45 minutes), but it definitely feels better for it. We’re also not taking the audience reaction into account, which should hopefully add a couple of minutes. If we have an audience, that is. If we don’t, we’ll be sure to leave an appropriate length of silence after each joke, to take the place of any potential laughter. In the past, we’ve found it difficult to make the show come across as a cohesive whole. I think we’ve finally managed to address this. The joins between material have been smoothed over – and nothing feels too out of place. We considered putting in another chunk or two of material to flesh ou...

When Robert Palmer wrote his 1986 signature classic, ‘Addicted to Love’, he was probably unaware that he was imparting some sound precautionary advice. It’s all there in the opening line. “The lights are on but you’re not home”. Mere seconds into this slice of radio-friendly rock, Palmer suggests the perfect burglar deterrent. As a plan, it’s pretty foolproof. What could be better than convincing any would-be criminals that there’s somebody in the house, when there isn’t? Nothing signposts an empty building more than being shrouded in complete darkness. If it worked for Macaulay Culkin, it can also work for you.  (A maxim that applies to many things in life.)   If only more popular music could embrace such a positive and practical message. Too many artists don’t consider how their compositions could be so easily misconstrued. Blondie's 'The Tide is High' doesn't once take into consideration the many times it isn't. ...

Sometimes, being an actor can be really, really shit. I keep getting penciled for jobs at the moment (which means being down to the last few). I sit for days, waiting for the phone to ring (stopping occasionally to sleep or eat). When it eventually does, it’s to let me know that I haven’t got it. It’s frustrating, as any one of these jobs could turn my situation around. I don’t want to sound too “woe is me”. I chose to take this path. It’s just hard to keep dusting myself off, metaphorically speaking, The hardest thing is to keep a sense of self. You constantly get knock-backs and have to keep approaching things positively; telling yourself that it’s not personal – it’s just the way it goes. I try to remind myself that things are going in the right direction; it’s just a matter of time before I get something. I also have to remember what the long game is – and why I invest so much in my own work. It would just be nic...

I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do today. I’ve got a number things I should be doing, but can’t really get started until I receive either an email or a phone call. As a result, I’m just sitting, waiting for something to happen. A lot of my life is spent doing this. This time next week, Doggett & Ephgrave perform our show at Dave’s Leicester Festival for two nights. I feel like we’re on schedule; I just hope that we have an audience. We did quite well for sales last year, amazingly, considering our relatively low profile, but that was on a Thursday and Friday. This time we’re performing on a Monday and Tuesday - so I’m expecting this to have a knock-on effect. We’ve also got our first London Mostly Comedy of 2014 next Wednesday, with Phil Kay and Sam Fletcher joining us on the bill. It will be nice to have a three-day run of gigs (we’ll also be doing our Leicester show in the second half), I just hope we have a sufficient...

Today, I haven’t got much to report. I went out for breakfast (a regular Sunday morning occurrence) and then had a little wander around the shops and St. Mary’s churchyard in Hitchin town centre. On my way home, I cut through an alleyway past some of my favourite houses. There are a couple of secluded pathways close to where I live that are tucked out of sight, with some lovely little cottages on them. I’d like to buy one eventually, when my finances allow. Until I do, I’ll keep walking past; working out which would suit me best. To be honest, any of them would do.

There's nothing more pressured than trying to open a new plastic bag with a queue of shoppers waiting behind you. I may be exaggerating slightly; defusing a bomb might be a tiny bit more stressful. That said, wrestling with a plastic bag in front of an audience is definitely somewhere near the top of the list. I find it particularly difficult when the cashier is watching me. They open plastic bags for a living. Not only that, but they see other people doing it day in and day out; most of them no doubt successfully. Sometimes the cashier will give you a proverbial Get Out of Jail Free card and offer to pack your shopping for you. I never take them up on this. I’m far too proud. I’ll insist I’m fine – and then spend the next few minutes flailing helplessly amongst a pile of polythene. It’s hardest when the bags are still attached to each other, which is usually the case at the self-service checkout. For some unfathomable reason, i...