The comfort of strangers

Tonight I hosted at the club. I was a bit slow - really haven't devoted much time to rehearsal, what with 5am phone calls and then complaining about 5am phone calls. Repetitive? Me? Repetitive? Me?
I was struggling a bit to get the crowd going. There was no music between the acts so it was a little difficult to keep things going, and although the main body of the audience kept laughing, the sides were mostly silent.

Towards the end an Australian did begin to chip in: I got my biggest laugh from telling her she couldn't correct me: given history, they should have all made a few less mistakes two hundred years ago if they wanted to lecture us now. Ah, the cheap jibes are the ones everyone enjoys.

Still, it went well: I suppose now I'm comfortable with a crowd, and it was a crowd, rather than four people looking confused to be in an ill-decorated basement.

Afterwards, we went to a bar where a Laotian woman told me that I wasn't Vietnamese, as though I'd done something wrong. Well, I was wearing a t-shirt with the Vietnamese flag on it. But she was Laotian and wasn't wearing the flag of Laos (unless that was a purple sweatshirt concealing some breasts) so she didn't have a leg to stand on.

She did have legs. I'm not so low that I'd have a go at somebody for just being paraplegic. I'm a good person, honest.

Earlier, saw Fantastic Mr Fox. It wasn't very realistic.