My recommendations for fringe performers embarking on the fringe:
Get in a fucking time machine, go back to that Sunday afternoon when you made your sisters friend laugh and it made you feel all gooey inside, and shoot yourself in the face with a cheap Polish firework.
What’s wrong with you? Look. Google is your friend. Have a wee sit down and type “PLUMBING COURSES NEAR ME” and you can thank me later.
Ok, yes, you, as a newly minted tradesperson will at some point have hand-to-turd contact with the faecal matter of a confused elderly gentlemen who “couldn’t be more grateful you could pop by” – but, at least you’re not a prick anymore, and is that not worth spending a six week training course with 12 teenagers with ADHD?
This is just the panic talking. I know what’s bothering me – it’s the first shit review. I can almost taste it. Billious, and salty like a Norwegian sweetie. Some proto human, with a copy of Harry Potter #retro – in their bag for best life will come and judge me – ME, a forty year old man. A man who takes 15 minutes to shit, a man who’s most recent purchase was a “boot caddy” for his sensible red ford estate, a man whose sex appeal is as faded as a poster in a barbers window.
Look at my face and weep, child journalist – you can’t give me enough stars.
Still. Should be a laugh
William Andrews: Willy
1st – 26th August (not Tues 14th)