I turned on Sky News the other day and a man who I was at school with was commenting on the scandalous pay of investment bankers in the light of the current economic meltdown. His name’s James Max and I think he was on ‘The Apprentice’ once and is now a financial expert (or something equally grown up). It just summed up for me that whatever I achieve in comedy I can never be the sort of man my school was looking to produce. The school was full of boys who were hardworking, driven and sure of their path in life. It was not a school for boys who didn’t really have a clue what they were meant to do because they only really enjoyed acting. I was friends with a boy called James Harding who’s an excellent example of the type of great man that school produced. In 1984 ( I think) we went to see a film called ‘Under Fire’ (Nick Nolte, Gene Hackman). It’s a film about journalists working in Nicaragua during the Sandanista Revolution – it sounds pretentious I know but it’s tremendously accessible to the uninformed (which at that time I was and to an extent still am). We walked out of the film determined to become journalists – to travel the world and report back to the people of Britain. Now I may travel the world but it’s to tell gags about how I’m a bit of failure as a person; my friend, James Harding, became editor of the Times at the age of 38. The lesson – don’t expect your kids to be powerful figures in society just because you send them to a high achieving school. A school can only work with the raw material they are given and, if they’re given a disorganised sensitive performer type, that’s probably what they will turn out.
I plan to send my kids to rotten secondary schools where staying out of prison and not getting pregnant before you leave will be seen as a massive achievement. That way, it will be much easier for them to feel like winners.
Don’t know why I’m feeling glum. I think it’s the time of year. Cold mid January in the comedy profession can be quite disheartening as what I’m going to do for the next few months to a year is still being worked out . The exciting news is that it’s pretty likely I’ll be touring in the Autumn and, with that as a target, I’m already working hard to get an amazing show into shape. There are murmurings of further TV appearances but again nothing is sorted – bloody January. The nice thing is that I’m staying in London a lot more this year so most weekends I’ll be home with more time to shout at wife and kids like other moody middle-aged dads (it’s great to feel normal). In fact, I don’t think I shout at the kids enough. I was telling them last night that they should be more frightened of me. Youngest child said, ‘But we can’t be scared of you, you’re too chubby and it’s funny when you run.’ Seven year olds are surely meant to have more respect. I was in awe of my dad at seven – having said that, he hadn’t used me as a human shield to defend him from a mouse ( I did this to one of my kids when they were five – don’t tell social services!)
I’m thinking of becoming a more political comedian. I have a very personal vendetta against the Conservative Opposition. I think they’re opportunist, cynical, policy-lite chancers and two old boys from my school are Shadow Ministers. It’s bloody unbearable.
