Not much going on

Another night down in the basement. I didn't do much today: got up late, spent two hours training in the morning, went home and passed out, waking up at five in the afternoon, welded to the bed, drool smeared across my face.

Somehow during this industriousness I did manage to finish off Imperial Bedrooms, which is short, polished, but feels rather soulless, and has a vaguely annoying reveal towards the end that feels like a half-arsed rehash of American Psycho. Still, as it's Bret Easton Ellis the last sentences are as reliably beautiful and cold as ever. And I had Plan B's "The Recluse" on loop, which gets better every time.

Strangely, this combination of sleep, semi-faux R&B and Californian misery turned out to be good preparation for tonight's show. I ran through my material once this evening, just to make sure I hadn't forgotten how to talk, but with a packed roster of comedians that all kept the audience laughing, I didn't have much to do apart from bring the next guy up and keep the energy going.

It was odd to have an entirely male show this evening: usually there's at least one female comedian, but I suppose because we have less women performing at the club, occasionally that will occur. And when you have a 15-year old Canadian, a cantankerous Cantonese chap, an airline pilot and a German all on the same bill, it's a quite varied evening.

I didn't get to use my new Osama joke because I couldn't find the opportunity:

They've revealed Osama had a big stash of porn. Why are they trying to make him look bad all of a sudden?

Then again, with no Americans in the audience (Canadian women rugby players, which is almost the same) and nobody else seeming to read the same news as me, maybe it would have sunk without trace.

I need to start videoing my performances again though: my memory is doing strange things to me, and half way through the night I couldn't remember what material I'd done earlier. I hope that's not the early onset of dementia. But still, a very good night - particularly important to me when I have friends visiting that the show's a success, rather than a succession of people nobody laughs at.

Finished it off with a hot dog at Brat, then home to bed. Tomorrow we're visiting Macau, which means one of those dreadful early starts...