So, today is the day before the day that I go to Edinburgh and prepare for the day before the day that I go on stage for the first time in what will be my seventh August journey northwards. Is that clear?
My flat currently looks like it would on any other day, for this is a day like any other day, apart from the fact that London has decided to do a game impression of Marakesh. My least favourite part of going up to Edinburgh is that it is the most extensive piece of packing I do outside of actually moving house. Since the likelihood of my clothes entering into a short-term relationship with a washing machine are relatively low in Edinburgh I always take virtually every piece of clothing I own. The upshot of this is that prior to leaving I lay out everything I own and end up in a pique of adolescent female frustration at the complete lack of anything to wear. Actually, I approach the deficiencies of my wardrobe from a more male perspective - I see my wardrobe as a football squad: when it's all bunched up in the wardrobe I find it difficult to assess, but laid out on the bed in front of me I can see exactly where I'm exposed:
8 pairs of boxers will not act as a solid defence for the month
2 jeans and 1 pinstripe trousers leave little room for creativity and flair
18+ t-shirts are good, but clearly some old favourites are going to have to be transfer listed come the end of the month
3 hoodies + 4 shirts are solid attacking choices, but unlikely to cause the audience much trouble
All in all, what I'm really in need of is some foreign investment. Not necessarily an Abrabovich style takeover of my wardrobe, but certainly a grassroots movement to change the face of my presentation (here's looking at you Mum and Dad.) It would be nice one year to lay out everything I need for the Fringe and see:
3 perfectly tailored suits
12 individually desgined T-Shirts
24 pairs of disposable boxer shorts
5 figure-hugging dresses for those days when you just have to go all Izzard
1 pair running shoes
1 pair sneakers
1 pair crocodile skin stilletoes with added rollerskate accessory
1 green leather trenchoat
Sadly that's not going to be my sartorial inventory until I decide to become Marquis Van der Velde - Gentleman Raconteur and Rogue, and I rather think Tim Fitzhigham has that niche sown up.
Anyway, I'm going to go and put some Malaysian food in my mouth, some new jokes in my head, a fire in my belly and that totally and utterly fail to sleep. It's the start of Jokemas in three days and I want to make sure I'm on Comedy Santa's nice list.
NB This blog post was brought to you by the number 42 and letter &.
NBNB (Can you do double NB's like PPS?) The Association for Mixed Metaphors would like to apologise for the gaping inconsistency in the way this blog has been communicated. It's as inconsistent as an English middle order batsman c.1991-2004. Etc...