Tony Penultimate

The Hubris and the Humilation

Well needless to say my attempts to bump up my views with my dressing room/pizza ‘meltdown’ scoop fell flat on its face - but what did I expect; its Saturday night and most people are out! Sitting in the hotel bar with the band last night, finishing off another glass of wine and posting the blog, I was immediately tweeted back by @NipNapshite who commented on the sublime beauty of Viola’s thumb (our tour manager) and the hideous grotesquerie that is mine. We call it the ‘big toe’ in the Brooke Turner family and newborns are eagerly grabbed to see if they have the ‘mark’. There then followed some more nonsensical and drunken (on my part) tweeting by between me and my correspondent before I decided to call it a night. (note to self:-booze and the internet don’t mix!)

But the hi jinks and humiliation weren't over.

I woke up at two in the morning needing to go to the toilet and sleepily walked into the bathroom whereupon the door clunked shut behind me and I realised I had walked into the hotel corridor.

In UOGB mythology this has only happened once before: while we were staying in a hotel in Weston Super Mare about seven years ago, Dave did exactly the same thing. 

The trouble was Dave sleeps naked and he was starkers and locked out of his room.  With considerable resourcefulness he climbed onto the window frame - removed a curtain from its runner, fashioned a “toga style” garment and nonchalantly sauntered down to reception to ask for a replacement key.

My situation wasn’t quite so bad though, I was wearing a pair of five year old blue pants and black socks and for some reason, I initially wandered up and down the corridor looking for a toilet, which of course I didn’t find.

I then walked down the stairs to reception where a bunch of revellers were still at the bar, I was immediately accosted by two very assertive women who asked me “are you sleepwalking” - to which I replied prissily that I was locked out of my room and was looking for the receptionist. 

The whole incident had a curious dream like quality, as I was half asleep, but the receptionist arrived swiftly and immediately gave me a new key. While he was giving it to me, I noticed one of the women lifting up her mobile phone to take a picture, whereupon I drew myself to my full height and struck out my hand in an aggressive, celebrity style “stop no publicity” gesture.

God knows if she took one or not but I’ll be keeping a close eye on the hashtags #tunbridgewells and #travelodge for the next few days.

We’re off to Canterbury this morning to do some new publicity photos before playing the gig at the Marlow theatre.

The Marlowe in Canterbury 

A bit down on the tickets!

The Reservoir Dogs walk again!

Did I say Canterbury is beautiful?



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