New Frontiers

This weeks' gigs have gone from the sublime to the ridiculous.

After Tuesday's stint as a children's entertainer, Wednesday saw me wake up feeling rougher than a badger's ass. Reluctantly I cancelled my dinner plans, but did managed to drag my ass to the hairdressers for a long-overdue root job. I hope this doesn't come as too much of a shock folks, but I ain't a natural blonde! I promised you hardcore confessions didn't I?

Patrick is the poor soul who is responsible for all of my hair-do's and don'ts for the last 20-odd years. He's a cute Kiwi who I first met at Antenna in 1984. Back in those days it was THE salon to visit, Boy George got his extentions done there, and so did Marilyn (can't win em all). I resisted the urge to have tons of nylon woven into my head, but did manage to persuade Patrick to execute some rather shocking examples of the hairdressers' art.

I remember when 9 1/2 weeks came out, I begged him to perm my hair to make it look like Kim Basinger's. Sadly I ignored his warnings about my already bleached hair being more porous, and 3 hours later emerged looking like Shirley Temple on steroids! That fucker took over a year to grow out!

These days I'm way less adventerous when it comes to my hair, the only dramatic change is that for the last 3 years I've been growing it, and it's now longer than it's ever been in my entire life. I get fewer passes made at me from lesbians, but hey you can't win em all.

Anyway, even tho I was feeling dreadful I was excited too, cos on Thursday morning I was flying out to Holland to do my first ever gig on Dutch soil. Amsterdam has a pretty good comedy scene, but many years ago I was told by one promoter that my stuff wouldn't work in a city where sex is on every corner. These days my act is less about sex and more about bitterness, so I figured it was ok to take a gig in The Hague and test the waters.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am pathalogically early for everything, so after getting an email telling me that the 2hr check in applied to flights to Europe too I set my alarm for 6.30.

Thursday, I opened my eyes to see the numbers 7.46 on the clock. A cold feeling of dread ran through my bones. I checked the alarm and yep, dozy cow that I am I'd set it for 6.30pm! I flew out of bed, threw my stuff in my case and was still out the door by my scheduled time of 8.30. Kinda makes me wonder what the hell I would have done with the other hour and 16 minutes.

Security really is tight at Heathrow these days, as we waited to go through the scanners, they were pulling random people out of the queue to be body searched. Well, not that random actually, everyone they picked while I was there had brown or black skin.

At Schipol I was met by a Dutch comic called Martijn Oosterhuis, then we went to collect fellow comic Addy van der Borg. He bought us lunch bless him, then took us to our hotel. Somehow, we lost the entire afternoon, giving me only an hour to prepare for the show. This was becomming a pattern!

The gig was in an amazing theatre, and it was sold out for the first time. It was billed as a British Comedy night, so there were plenty in the audience. Milton Jones when on first and he was incredible. I love watching him, his word-play makes me wish I wasn't such a comedy slut. Addy had a corker too, then after the interval it was my turn. Guess what folks, I had a stormer! If sex in comedy doesn't sell in Holland, bitterness sure does! I have to admit to being slightly relieved that my time was up before I got to the hardest hitting material, but I loved it and so did the crowd. To top it off we got paid cash! In sterling!!!!!

So, after the glamour and faded elegance of The Hague, where's a gal to go next?

Croydon of course! Not just any old gig in Croydon tho, the lovely Up The Creek Too! The 'bug' whatever it is had returned with a vengence, so after going on first I headed straight back home, thus missing a chance to see the wonderful Terry Alderton tear up the room.