Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Upsetting the Apple Cart
The autumn and winter are the busiest time for jobbing club comedians, and whereas I had
only planned to be away Thursday to Sunday for work, the nature of the comedy circuit had
changed. Not long ago every big weekend club (and there were at least two in every major
city and town) would have a Thursday night gig, but a contraction of the circuit had meant
that not only had some clubs disappeared altogether, but those that remained no longer had a
Thursday show. Fortunately, I had by now started on the corporate circuit and was working as
an after-dinner speaker or as a host at corporate awards ceremonies, which were not only more
lucrative but which I actually enjoyed far more than a heaving club night, acting as crowd con-
trol for stag and hen parties.
The only snag in this was that my working pattern became far more unpredictable; I could be
away at any part of the week or away for weeks at a time. I had worked pretty much the same
schedule for over five years now, but things had necessarily had to change. I was earning more
money but was spending more and more time away. And whereas before I would only ever be
away for work, now I might be away for five days but only have two or three gigs. It wasn't
practical to come home to France for a day, either financially or logistically, so I was spending
time away from home and having nothing to do. It's hard enough being away from your family
so much, without also having the nagging feeling that the family may actually be growing in
your absence. Brief conversations were grabbed by telephone or Skype and the paranoia in-
creased if I heard hitherto unrecognised animal noises in the background.
'What was that noise?' I would snap.
'What noise?' they would all chorus, alarmingly harmonised.
'I heard bleating…' I'd take a deep breath. 'Have you gone out and got a sheep?'
'It's just the telly, Daddy,' one of them would say.
'No sheep here, Daddy,' another one would offer as confirmation.
I'd spent most of the previous week doing shows to English expats and assorted other Anglo-
phones along the French Riviera: Monte Carlo, Cannes, Antibes and Nice. It is one of my fa-
vourite places in the world, combining stunning coastline, classic architecture, fantastic food
and some of the silliest-looking rich people you're likely to find anywhere. I first went to Nice
nearly thirty years ago and it hasn't changed all that much in that time; yet despite all the mag-
nificent things the city has to offer, its walkways are still paved with dog poop. This is by no
