I was in a bad mood on Friday, bad stuff at work, but Saturday night I went to Folkestone and did a stand-up comedy gig. Stand-up is guaranteed to make up for any bad stuff that's happened in that week of radio, and it did.
Oh what a happy little soul I was till I realised, last night, on stage in front of 200 people, I had a rip in my trousers.
I got them off the hanger before the gig, got my outfit together and just went for it. But the rip in between the right front pocket and the gusset. Basically, if my boxer rode up a bit the rip would be in the right play to show off "Mr Righty". (Yes, I name my two veg)
I wondered why I felt so free and easy on stage last night. I was walking around up there, talking b*****ks while showing one off too.
Next time I do that, I'll charge them double.
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