Saturday 25th February 2016

Mistimed my trip and ended up waiting 2 hours in Faversham station. Eventually got a train back to Victoria Station to Kings Cross, ran like an idiot (with a box on his back) and made my train to Leeds with 4 minutes to spare.

Train full of screaming kids.

Leeds to my very northern venue - I didn't even know this place even existed. Found the whole trip quite...aggressive. I heard someone say, aimed at me, "I would sit down but there's fucking tourists everywhere."

Welcome to the north. That wasn't half as bad as the show itself, though. I was staying at the venue, but didn't actually do that. Show started, I lost them within minutes...you could just feel the mood drop in the room. At one point (mid-song), a woman stood and declared, "right, I'm going for a fag." Other moments in the show included four men putting napkins on their heads and finding that the most amusing thing ever and various people walking out.

I cut it at 40 minutes. It's a miracle I lasted that long without being bottled. It felt dangerous.

Realised I couldn't stay there - called the next village, got a hotel room, gave my keys back. The landlord told me they didn't like my show because I was "too wordy." This made me angry. One of them had said earlier in the evening that the last comedian they saw was Bernard Manning. I didn't stand a chance.

But equally I didn't stand a chance of getting out of this village. 4 taxi firms locally, all booked up for the WEEK. Couldn't get an Uber, but that was a bit ambitious. Pissing down with rain. Realised there was a train at 11.20, ran through the streets, the deserted streets, got lost a lot, pitch black, no lights anywhere, eventually found station. Waited and waited. Train was 11.20 in the morning. Literally crumbled to the ground. The very wet ground. Tried all four cab firms again, no luck.

Decided to walk it. 10 miles, in pitch black, down country lanes. By the time a third car nearly knocked me over I realised it wasn't such a great idea. Ran back to the station, where at least there was one light. Called my new hotel, begged them for help - I was totally stranded. They gave me the number for a cab firm at their end, who would come out and get me but at double fee. I accepted.

An hour later the cab turned up, I told the driver, a lovely man called Chris, the whole story of the evening. I like Chris, we'll keep in touch, especially as he's a big part of my documentary.

Arrived in Skipton eventually. Luckily, my hotel room was above a nightclub. Normally I'd hate this, but tonight, before I'd even checked in, me and my box drum went clubbing. I was about 15 years older than most people there, but it was the most fun I'd had all night. By clubbing I mean I sat in a corner, drinking.