Nice Peter in London, 22 Oct

Nice Peter in London on Wed, 22 Oct

I don't know why I'm writing a blog to post this, 

but Ed says it's a good idea. He's my manager, 

maybe I'll tell you more about him and touring 

in general, to make this a more legitimate blog, 

and not just a post about a gig in London. 

But let's get that out of the way first.

I'm playing a gig in London.

On Wednesday, the 22 of October.

It's at 229, aka Club Fandango.

229 Great Portland Street, London W1W 5PN

(very close to Euston Station)

admission is 6 pounds, steep, but hey, it's London.

Music starts at 8 pm, I go onstage at 10 pm.

If you're in London, or feel like making a trip,

I'd love to see you there.

In other news,

I am halfway through the calendar dates

of this UK tour,

but I have 21 shows left to go.

This weekend, I play two double headers,

on Friday and Saturday.

Luckily, our friend Liam,

from Sheffield, is driving us around.

He drives fast.

This will help me in several ways,

first, and perhaps most important,

allowing me to drink during shows.

Beer, pints, shots, and bottles

have become an integral

part of the Nice Peter show,

especially here in England.

I don't know if that's sad,

or awesome, right now,

it feels pretty awesome.

It gives me just a little

more confidence onstage,

false confidence, perhaps,

but it allows me to take the risks

and say the things that usually

end up being the most memorable

part of the show.

What can I say?

It's fun.

the shows in the UK,

on a whole, have been fantastic.

Weston Super Mare is the strangest

place I have ever been in my life.

We got weed from a crack head,

I'm sorry, a former crack head,

and, well... that's really weird.

The gig was a circus,

any comedy in any of

my songs was completely outshined

by the characters and the comedy

of the audience itself.

This was one show,

especially, where what

I had written before

was essentially thrown

out the window.

All I had to do was strum

a few chords and point

out the simple ridiculousness

of the people in the room.

It works, sometimes.

I made a return trip to

West Kirby, which is outside

of Liverpool.

It ended up being even

better than the first,

but again, due to the

enhancing effects of

San Miguel Lager

and one shot of Vodka,

I ended up picking on the one

guy in the room who had absolutely

no sense of humor.

I found out later that his

wife had also left him...

that day.

Oops.

well,

it wasn't my fault.

I'm more than willing

to work with any member

of the audience,

I can feel when they are pissed off,

and I can feel when they have had enough.

but,

for fuck's sake,

it is a comedy show.

You knew that when you walked in,

and it's not going to stop for another hour,

so if its really bothering you,

there's the door.

everyone else is laughing,

except for you,

grumpy sweater guy

who's wife had just left him.

I'm sorry your wife left you,

maybe it was because you

have no sense of humor.

I didn't even ever say anything

mean to the guy.

I was just busting his chops about his

sweater, and I think I said something

about the "lady standing next to him

maybe being his girlfriend,

or maybe that other guys girlfriend,

or maybe both... "

In retrospect, that might be what

set him off. Some young punk

suggesting that the cute woman

standing next to him was his girlfriend,

when he was in fact newly single,

and then going on to point out

that he was wearing a funny jumper.

Anyhow,

he stood there at the very front,

fuming at me.

I'm talking fuming,

like a Puerto Rican guy

moving his lips furiously

before he punches you in the face.

I tried to ignore it,

but how the hell could I?

You don't not notice

a guy standing three feet

in front of your face,

ready to punch it.

Hell, he could have reached

me with a step.

So I tried to diffuse,

while still keeping some humor,

it had no effect.

Have you ever tried

to reason with a Volcano?

It doesn't work,

if it starts to grumble,

it will go off, no matter

how funny you are.

He left.

finally,

to get more fucking

money to come back

and drink at the bar!

you're kidding me.

fine, whatever,

I left him alone,

he minded his own,

and stopped paying attention

business, at a very fun show,

which seems stupid to me,

but, whatever.

I apologized to him,

very sincerely, during a break.

I really did.

No jokes,

I said,

"I'm really sorry,

things got carried away,

I didn't realize you were actually

getting so upset, and I've tried

to leave you alone from then on."

He kinda just stood there.

So I figured,

problem solved,

Volcano, diverted.

But as he left,

during a pause between songs,

he came up to me onstage and said...

"I'll give you a tip...."

okay!

here it comes,

some funny one liner

from an edgy British guy...

he'll wrap it all up,

get a huge laugh,

and every will love everyone

again.

I expected something about the sweater.

what he actually said was,

"stay in your own fucking country"

wow.

what a dick.

-p