“Fuck it.”
Richard Asplin
Hello. Well it’s a couple of hours later. And that didn’t work out at all. Arse.
I took off from the café, with my print out in hand, ready to find a quiet spot in the park to read out my “chopped down” five minute version into my Mp3 recorder, ready to load it and play it over and over for the next few hours.
After scouring the park looking for a quiet unoccupied bench – of which there were NONE (who are all these people sitting in parks mid afternoon on an October Mondy?) – I found a desolate tree in a corner. I whip out the phone, I whip out the script. I press record, I start to read…only to find out FUCK IIIIIIT, that the print out is of an old but from weeks ago. Not the full final set, Arsebiscuits.
So heigh-ho, as the seven dwarves once said, it was BACK to the coffee shop. (Hello again! They said. Yeah yeah yeah). I got a Camomile Tea (no more lattes for me – oh and fags have gone in the bin. Yayy) and I opened up the video of my last set. All 10mins 8 secs of it. I went through on a handy piece of desktop editing software and chopped out the errs and uhmms and the 4 jokes I;m cutting, added some titles, a b/w grainy look for that Beat Poet Lenny Bruce vintage feel, and converted it to an MP4. And have shoved it on YouTube here:
So I can now happily stroll about Kingston with it playing in my ears. It runs 5mins 9 seconds. Including pacing and laughs. Which I’m okay with. So now I am ready. What to do now?
Well it’s 2.24pm and I have nowt to do but learn it. So perhaps a walk to the gym and a half hour or so on the treadmill. Or perhaps just a long long walk for a couple of hours. Hmn. Not sure.
Either way, phone battery permitting, I am good to go. Righto. As I said before. Broken legs people, broken legs.
Rxxx
a novel approach 