Unsurprisingly I'm now the laughing stock of everyone who's ever met me.
"Hello, Police? Someone's stolen my bed. Oh no, hang on a minute, I'm in the bathroom," my brother said to me last night. The milk of human kindness does not run sweet in the Nunn household.
Still, I had a lovely evening out with some friends last night - good food, good company and a lot of laughter.
Mostly at me.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
A little bit car-less
Last night I had a gig over at the T-Bird Bar in Finsbury Park. It's not an area I know well, so thought I'd use the sat nav to help me get there.
On approaching the area, I wondered why there were a quantity of gormless-looking men wandering around in the road. Then it struck me (not the gormless-looking men, thankfully. They didn't strike me. In fact, I think I probably got a few of them.) - this was a match day. I was near the Arsenal ground, and finding a parking place would be a nightmare.
I drove round for about half an hour, and eventually found a spot which I hoped wasn't too far away from where I needed to be. However, the restrictions stipulated that on match days I couldn't park there until 8.30. It was 8.15, so I thought I'd take the risk. (I was also quite piqued that I was "supposed" to know when a match day was. I don't remember the parking restrictions part of the Highway Code requiring me to know anything about football. Though I can explain the offside rule, should I need to.)
Anyway, I took the risk - figuring being parked illegally for 15 minutes probably would be OK. I went to the gig. We had a total of four genuine audience members - the rest were comics. I was on third... which was unfortunate, as midway through my time on stage (I won't call it a set - it was a bit too shambolic for that), the football finished and we were invaded by aforementioned gormless-looking men. It was a joy.
Anyway, I cut my time short, made my excuses and headed back to my car, using my sat nav to guide me to the road I'd parked my car on. I got back to the spot... and there was no car. Just a big blank space where a car used to be. Fifteen minutes and they'd towed me! Can you believe it?
Not sure what to do next, I was pleased to see two police officers... After speaking to them, they said I'd almost definitely been towed. I went back to the station with them whilst they phoned round the car pounds. After speaking to all of the pounds (I love the fact they call them pounds - always makes me think of dogs. I have this picture of loads of little abandoned cars waiting eagerly for someone to come and claim them) apparently my car wasn't at any of them. There was a small chance it was still working its way through the system - but chances are it had been stolen.
Now, in case you're under any misapprehension because of the whole "sat nav" thing - let me assure you I drive a very rubbish car. A 1992 Vauxhall Astra with a whacking dent in it. Not exactly a joyrider's dream. I love it, obviously, but it's hard to imagine anyone else giving it drive space.
The police took all the details, gave me a reference number, and then got the Bomb Squad to drive me home. How cool is that? Has anyone else been driven home by the Bomb Squad? No? Well, I have. It was super-cool.
This morning I called the pound one more time to check if they had my car. They didn't. So, with a heavy heart, I headed back to Arsenal to report the car well and truly stolen. I wandered sadly along the street I'd parked my little Astra, imagining its shiny, but slightly lopsided face grinning up at me. And then I saw it. Like people who've been bereaved who suddenly see their uncle or whoever in the same room, I saw my little car. And then I looked closer and I realised it WAS my car. And I'd been at the wrong end of the street. Oops.
You may laugh now. But I ask you this. Have you ever been given a lift to Bethnal Green in a Bomb Squad car? I think we know who the real winner is here.
On approaching the area, I wondered why there were a quantity of gormless-looking men wandering around in the road. Then it struck me (not the gormless-looking men, thankfully. They didn't strike me. In fact, I think I probably got a few of them.) - this was a match day. I was near the Arsenal ground, and finding a parking place would be a nightmare.
I drove round for about half an hour, and eventually found a spot which I hoped wasn't too far away from where I needed to be. However, the restrictions stipulated that on match days I couldn't park there until 8.30. It was 8.15, so I thought I'd take the risk. (I was also quite piqued that I was "supposed" to know when a match day was. I don't remember the parking restrictions part of the Highway Code requiring me to know anything about football. Though I can explain the offside rule, should I need to.)
Anyway, I took the risk - figuring being parked illegally for 15 minutes probably would be OK. I went to the gig. We had a total of four genuine audience members - the rest were comics. I was on third... which was unfortunate, as midway through my time on stage (I won't call it a set - it was a bit too shambolic for that), the football finished and we were invaded by aforementioned gormless-looking men. It was a joy.
Anyway, I cut my time short, made my excuses and headed back to my car, using my sat nav to guide me to the road I'd parked my car on. I got back to the spot... and there was no car. Just a big blank space where a car used to be. Fifteen minutes and they'd towed me! Can you believe it?
Not sure what to do next, I was pleased to see two police officers... After speaking to them, they said I'd almost definitely been towed. I went back to the station with them whilst they phoned round the car pounds. After speaking to all of the pounds (I love the fact they call them pounds - always makes me think of dogs. I have this picture of loads of little abandoned cars waiting eagerly for someone to come and claim them) apparently my car wasn't at any of them. There was a small chance it was still working its way through the system - but chances are it had been stolen.
Now, in case you're under any misapprehension because of the whole "sat nav" thing - let me assure you I drive a very rubbish car. A 1992 Vauxhall Astra with a whacking dent in it. Not exactly a joyrider's dream. I love it, obviously, but it's hard to imagine anyone else giving it drive space.
The police took all the details, gave me a reference number, and then got the Bomb Squad to drive me home. How cool is that? Has anyone else been driven home by the Bomb Squad? No? Well, I have. It was super-cool.
This morning I called the pound one more time to check if they had my car. They didn't. So, with a heavy heart, I headed back to Arsenal to report the car well and truly stolen. I wandered sadly along the street I'd parked my little Astra, imagining its shiny, but slightly lopsided face grinning up at me. And then I saw it. Like people who've been bereaved who suddenly see their uncle or whoever in the same room, I saw my little car. And then I looked closer and I realised it WAS my car. And I'd been at the wrong end of the street. Oops.
You may laugh now. But I ask you this. Have you ever been given a lift to Bethnal Green in a Bomb Squad car? I think we know who the real winner is here.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
First post
Hello! So, this is my attempt to write more regularly, to capture small details and to hope that I manage to get in the habit of writing and of turning over more comedy material. As most of you know, I do a fair bit of writing anyway, but rarely aimed at an audience!
Still grappling with the technology at the moment, but once this is up and running, I hope to post fairly regularly.
More than happy to get comments or feedback.
See you soon!
Still grappling with the technology at the moment, but once this is up and running, I hope to post fairly regularly.
More than happy to get comments or feedback.
See you soon!
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