British Arseways

I was supposed to leave for America yesterday, and I’m a day late.

I had a bad feeling on the morning when the button on my trousers fell off just as the taxi turned up to take me to the station. My train to London stopped at Watford due to signal failure and all the passengers had to squash into small sweaty local train adding a hour into the travel time in the blistering heat. Getting on the tube to heathrow I had the unexpected joy walking into the same carriage as the girls who are also heading out to the states for the comedysportz tournament (the improv show we do at the comedy store). I think there’s a law about coincidances like that.this joy was short lived

Getting to the airport I was told by the nice perosn at the desk that there were no seats left on the flight, and I would have to wait to see if there were cancellations. What? An hour later I was there were no seats so I wouldn’t be able to board the flight with my 5 chums who were happliy sitting on the other side of checkin.

I went apes**t.

The following five minutes of shouting included abuse, a speech on customer care, a pep talk on how to run a business, and the single greatest ‘exhalation of air to express dissapointment’ (followed by raised arms) I have ever done.

I’m now sitting, the next day, in the check out gate waiting for my flight having spent the night in a hotel, stuffing my face with food and drink all at the expense of British Airways.

They did give me compensation, which I have used to buy new trousers.

BLOG Sorting out your DVD shelves

BLOG Sorting out your DVD shelves

Posted using ShareThis

CSI Ancoats

Back in March my car was broken into while I was doing my show at the frog, and my projector and screen were knicked.

Despite being bloody annoyed and having to clean up broken glass before driving home, I noticed a small disgusting gobet of snotty phlem on the drivers seat…and it wasn’t mine.
I don’t watch the show CSI, but being the ’slightly detched from reality’ person I am it occured to me that if I wiped it up and kept it safe the police could do a DNA test on it to find the culprit.
They came round the next day and dusted the car for prints as a matter of course, when I told them about my bit of snotty evidence and I don’t know if they were amused or intrigued at my attempts to be a forensic detective, but they humoured me and swobed the snot with their special police dipper-probe thing.

And a few weeks later they got a match. And they caught him. And they charged him.

TAKE THAT MANCHESTER CRIME!

The police agreed I was lucky, they don’t always catch the pettiest of thieves, but did commend my presence of mind, which help catch the bugger. Hurray!

Bits

I’ve joined twitter, that other social networking thingy. I’ve got a bit of a love/hate thing with social networking sites. First Myspace, then Facebook, I’ve yet to work out if I’m going through them like fads, or it’s competition and improvement making me move from one to the others.

The Cadbury Cluster’s TV advert I was in isn’t being shown, and instead there’s another less quirky ad which is seemingly never off the telly, but maybe thats just because I notice it more. Bah.

The Doctor Who convention the other week was an absolute blast, meeting Fraser Hines, Mark Strickson, and Doctors 6 & 7. I was a bit nervous, but apparently Mr. Hines loved the interview I did with him and couldn’t wait to get a copy of it, so I must have been doing something right.  Danny Pensive closed the after show party and was on fine form, bagging himself a wedding gig in June into the bargain.