Doing all of these disaster gigs while working at the school was exhausting but I only had to do it for nine months. One day when walking back to the tube from work (probably carrying a hedge trimmer that I intended to drop from a twelfth storey window before returning it to Patrick the following morning) I received a phone call from one of my favourite comedians (and one of the reasons I became a comedian) Josie Long, asking me to be her tour support that autumn. Being her tour support meant that I would have to quit my job at the school because I would essentially be on the road for four months. This was great news. Even if I ended up having to return to the day job once the tour was over I was still incredibly grateful for any respite whatsoever. I said yes without hesitation.
The tour began in September and I was one of two support acts. The other was Johnny Lynch, an incredible musician who releases music under the name The Pictish Trail. The tour started in the Scottish Highlands and I remember driving over the hills, looking down at rivers and realising that it was one o’clock in the afternoon and I’d usually be working in a classroom by now, and it made me feel free and fortunate. (I know some of you are thinking, ‘Woah should you really be the one driving given your track record?’ But relax, I’m hardly going to mar this amazing experience by having my third major car crash, guys!)
The tour ended in Nottingham and I was very happy because my sister and brother-in-law were going to come to the show. I had arranged to meet them for a drink before the show started but I wouldn’t be eating food because Josie, Johnny and I had decided to go and get some Italian food together when I got back. Ruth and David (my sister and brother-in-law’s names) were waiting for me in Chiquito’s (the name of the restaurant we were having drinks in). We sat at the bar and had drinks and caught up with each other for about an hour before my sister spotted Mr Eko sitting on his own at a table.
Mr Eko was a character in the popular television series Lost. All three of us were fans of Lost and probably even bigger fans of Mr Eko. He was a Ugandan drug lord turned preacher who was sitting in the tail section of the plane when it crashed and did loads of spiritual stuff on the island as well as beating people up. And Ruth was right: Mr Eko was sat at a table alone, waiting for his order and drumming on the table top. I never approach people I’m a fan of for fear of annoying them but I loved his character in Lost so much that I just had to say something. So I walked right up to Mr Eko and said, ‘Hello, mate, just wanted to say you’re amazing in Lost.’
He smiled and said, ‘Aw thanks, that really means a lot,’ shook my hand, and I returned to the bar. It had been a success; I had met a hero and not come across like a weirdo. I was happy.
After the drinks I returned to the venue to meet up with Johnny and Josie. I was hungry and it was dinner time. ‘We’re going to Chiquito’s,’ said Josie.
I froze. ‘Ummm . . . I can’t go to Chiquito’s.’
‘Yes you can,’ said Josie, looking puzzled.
‘No. No, we can’t go to Chiquito’s, I’ve just gone up to a man and told him I love him and then left, I can’t return five minutes later with more people, he’ll think something’s going on.’ I tried explaining the situation to Josie and Johnny more coherently but they didn’t see the problem (which is totally fair enough) so in the end we reached a compromise. I agreed to eat at Chiquito’s providing Josie lent me her hoody and Johnny lent me his bobble hat thus providing me with the perfect disguise. Genius.
And so we arrived at Chiquito’s and waited to be seated. I was now disguised as the coldest person in the world, wearing a hoodie with the hood up, bobble hat on top of the hood, and blending in with the Mexican decor very nicely. Mr Eko was still sitting at the same table, checking his phone.
‘There’s one table free at the moment,’ said the waiter and of course pointed straight at the table right next to Mr Eko.
‘No we can’t sit there,’ I whispered to Josie, ‘Mr Eko is literally on the table beside us.’ This was not a good enough reason to not sit at the table for reasons I don’t have to explain to you because you are a reasonable person who knows that that is not a good enough reason for anything ever.
I sat with my back to Mr Eko as we waited for our food and refused to remove my hoodie or bobble hat. My chimichanga arrived but before I could start eating, Mr Eko got up to leave. I know that Mr Eko got up to leave because in order to get out he had to squeeze past me and asked me to move my chair so that he could get past. I was so startled that I pulled my chair forwards too quickly, sharply knocking into my table which caused my fork to fall on the ground. And then Mr Eko and myself both bent down to pick up the fork at the same time, and whilst under the table our eyes met. I froze in fear; he did a double take, recognised me and a look of concern swept over his face as he asked himself why this man had gone away and then come back wearing a disguise and sat on the adjacent table to him. In a way it’s rather fitting that someone from the TV series Lost should suddenly find themselves with so many questions but zero answers. Now they know how we felt.
When I saw his eyes widen I realised that what I’d done was so much worse than if I’d simply returned to the restaurant dressed in the same clothes as earlier and had a meal without bothering him. This looked suspicious. This looked like I actually had something sinister planned. I had gone to the trouble of disguising myself, concealing my identity from him. Whatever I was about to do next would most certainly be illegal and probably unwelcome. He thrust the handle of the fork into my hand and left hastily, looking over his shoulder at me as he did so.
And then I ate a chimichanga while wearing a bobble hat.
But even though the Mr Eko situation hadn’t panned out as I’d hoped I was fairly relaxed about it, mainly because it was, by an awfully huge margin, not the worst thing that had happened to me during the tour.