It's 11:04pm and I'm sitting at a quaint little park bench in the middle of Clissold Park, which is next to the warehouse complex I live in now. I jumped over the fence with my laptop and walked out into the middle, and I've got to tell you guys, this was one of the greatest night-time ideas I've ever had. The silence is glorious. It feels like I'm swimming in a giant pool of night time, and I can only just still see the shore. Every now and then a siren goes past, or a bus. The lights from the road are flickering on and off as the cars that carry them are obscured by trees and public toilets. Fuck yes. Fucking fuck fuck Fuck fucking. Yes. This is where it's at.
For anyone who cares, I've been putting a lot of preparations in my show on the 22nd of July – the show that I kind of announced in a roundabout way by posting a transcript of the email I sent to the CEO of the company I work for asking her to fund it. It's all going ahead. I've been in contact with The Girl Who Lost £1000 (for brevity, I'll be referring her hereafter simply as 'The Girl'), and after an initial period of humming and hawing, she's agreed to let me donate the proceeds of my show to her.
I'm assuming the humming and hawing involved asking all of her close friends and confidants whether she should really be trusting a person who, as far as she can tell, was the closest known associate of the guy who stole £1000 from her in January. Fair play. I don't know what else to say really, but I'm excited to set things straight.
I've decided to keep this blog running periodically up until the night of the show as a kind of count down, hopefully it'll be entertaining enough to build some sort of hype around it, and if I'm honest, remind people that it's actually a thing and it really is happening. July 22nd you motherfuckers. I mean, wait. Sorry. You guys are great. If you're reading this, you're great.
The only thing left really at this point is the name – what to call this show? I'm writing a bunch of the stories that happened during the time I knew Andy as stand up routines, so that by July 22nd when I come on to headline the show, I'll be able to tell the story and tie everything back together.
I've been thinking about the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, who I love, and who reformed around 2008 or so, and put out a bunch of videos leading up to their comeback show at the Middle East Bar in Boston. They traditionally played a run of shows there between Christmas and New Years every year, and those shows were collectively called 'The Hometown Throwdown', and so when they reformed, the series of videos they put out detailing their progress towards those comeback shows was called 'The Road to the Throwdown'. I briefly toyed with the idea of calling this blog by the same name, but dropped the idea when I realised that would mean calling my show 'The Throwdown', which has nothing to do with comedy, or Andy, or The Girl, or my blog, or anything whatsoever. But I do love the Mighty Mighty Bosstones...
Here are some other names I've been considering:
- The Abersham Flat – simple, a classic
- Andy Issac Hunt – kind of spells/sounds like 'Andy Is A Cunt', which I thought would be funny if I ever needed something clean to give to a festival guide or newspaper etc.
- Twenty-Four in Twenty-Fifteen – super douchey and arty and I don't really like it, but a part of me does. The part of me I absolutely hate.
- Fuck You Andy – straight to the point
- The Thousand-Pound Girl – this one is a bit silly, and I feel like it's a play on the title of a movie that I've never seen, and might not actually exist. (Thousand Pound Man? Is that a thing?) Also it makes it sound like it's about a fat lady, which is funny.
- The Throwdown - COME ON!!!
If anyone has any other suggestions they think might help, please tell me. Otherwise, keep reading guys. In the meantime, I'm running a show at the Hercules Pillars on Great Queen St in London on the 14th of April (Facebook for details) – as soon as that show is over, I'm going to be putting tickets on sale for this last show on July 22nd. This is going to be so great, I can fucking feel it.
I need to go now because as much as it's actually really nice to be sitting on a laptop writing in the dead of night in the middle of a park, I feel like this would also be a great start to a story about someone stealing my laptop at knifepoint. Also my knuckles are getting chilly.