Rainy night

Tonight we headed over to the Charterhouse Hotel in Wan Chai to see Cory Kahaney.

A word to the unwise. Don't get the MTR to Wan Chai and then walk to the wrong end of Wan Chai Road like a couple of muppets, getting soaked in the downpour on the way. I suppose it was a good bonding experience for us, or something.

Cory was great: I didn't think I'd sit happily through an hour and a half of a woman from New York, but she had a nice blend of American material and more specific things she'd adjusted for Hong Kong, plus (because I'd told her about my trip to Geneva) I got a little bit of Swiss humour added into the set tonight.

Cory's husband, a very friendly chap, was in the audience, and there was quite a bit of material about him. Which is nice, because if nothing else it should persuade my fiancee that I can include her in my set... Not quite sure she'll buy that.

There was also a New York lawyer, who came out with the vaguely ominous heckle "Lucky you're not in Indonesia" which sounds worse the more you think about it. I'm not saying anything bad about Indonesia - just that it sounds threatening to begin with, and then you overlay that with some implied prejudice about one of the largest countries on Earth, and then you start getting worried about if you're in a room with a murderer, or a guy with strange prejudices, or a murderer with strange prejudices. That would be awful. I only want to be murdered by somebody whose prejudices tend to correlate with my own.

As well as the amusement of getting soaked, and the humour of stand-up in a basement, we had the hilarity of visiting a tailor today, who quickly spotted that one of my shoulders is lower than the other. And my back is mishapen. And my hips are wonky. And ... This litany of physical failure went on for some time, and although it's nice that they're accurate and observant, it does mean the putatively pleasant experience of having a suit made turns into something that eviscerates your ego. Particularly when there are actually two tailors, who keep saying the same things, not quite in unison, like a malefic version of the Suits You guys from the Fast Show.

Anyway, in five weeks I'll have a lovely new suit to get crammed into a bag on the flight to our wedding. Or to be lost and stuck on a baggage trolley by the side of the runway in Vladivostok.