This morning we got off to an early start – well early for a festival! At 10am a car arrived to pick Captain Hotknives and me up for our lunchtime performance on the Glade Stage. I was very glad not to have to traipse through the mud to get there.…
During the night the rain battered the tent so hard that several times I felt a fine mist on my skin. But by the time I was properly awake the rain had cleared. I pulled myself out into the grey morning and sat and watched Glastonbury get going.…
I woke suddenly at 5.15 this morning and it wasn’t from the rain on the tent or the noise of Festival revellers outside. It was a text from Fat Sister, who’s joining us at Glastonbury later today. Her text said simply: “It’s all fucked!”…
One of the central messages of Backstage In Biscuit Land is that making theatre inclusive makes it better. One example of this is how much a sign language interpreter can add to a show – in our case this is partly because my tics can’t help but involving them in the action.…
If you’ve ever been to see Backstage in Biscuit Land you’ll probably remember seeing a cat dressed as a nun right at the end of the show. Underneath that costume you’d have found Jolie, our producer, who’s been with us for the last two years.…
Almost a year ago I took part in a writers group at the Royal Court Theatre. One of the highlights was meeting other writers and theatre makers. Among them was Jessica Latowicki, one half of the theatre company Made In China.…
I woke up this morning with the gloomy feeling you get from having undertaken some sort of needlessly self-destructive activity – a potent mix of unhappiness and guilt. This was compounded by knowing that I’d been warned about the risks, but that I’d done it anyway.…
It’s not every day that I arrange to meet someone I’ve never met before in our tour bus in a deserted car park in mid-Wales. But it’s not everyday that I’m at the Machynlleth Comedy Festival in Wales having being interviewed by stand-up legend Arthur Smith.…
A couple of weeks ago I had a ‘ticcing fit’ in the hallway of the castle that left a nasty impression on me.
During the fit my arm pressed against a hot radiator pipe. Because I couldn’t move I quickly found myself with a horrible big burn.…
The other day I wrote about a sudden influx of new ‘W’- based tics and songs. The latest addition to the collection, and my personal favourite, sung loosely to the tune of Santa Claus is coming to town, is this:
“I’m waving at cats,
I’m waving at cats,
I’m waving at cats but they’re not waving back,
I’m gonna just keep waving at cats.”…
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