It's been a funny month, still having bouts of ill health along with the odd catastrophe! It's only when I come to compile what's been happening that I start to realise how full my life is.

As you know Sunderland AFC were promoted as Champions along with Wigan Athletic, I live in the Borough of Wigan so it was nice to see football takes it's place as the country's biggest sport in a town dominated by that weird game of Rugby League. Strangely enough, the last time we went up as Champs I was living in Bradford and they came up in second place with us!

I'm really enjoying living on my own, though it can get lonely, I love getting up in the morning and playing The Clash at full volume (I still haven't got anyone living downstairs to me) The village/town itself is nice enough, not too far removed from the pit community I grew up in. I've got myself a nice local pub, The Mort Arms, and love chatting to the old men in the afternoon over £1 a pint Holts bitter. There was a bit of a scare when someone thought I was an undercover police officer after I'd enquired after some cut price fags! They obviously don't know me too well. I'm doing a gig there in aid of Holts Brewery's chosen charity Christies Hospice, I'm bringing my friend BW along with me and I'm hoping it'll be a good night.

Work wise, it's still busy, there have been some great gigs and one or two not so good. Remarkably one of these was a dinner in Hebburn, South Tyneside, a gig I would normally storm. I was on with Peter Shilton (who,it has to be said, was a gentleman throughout signing hundreds of autographs). I compered the night, something I'm not overly keen on doing as even I get sick of the sound of my own voice by the end of the night. I also think it sort of takes away the "guest speaker" element of my role in closing the evening. It didn't help that Mr. Shilton told, word for word, my opening joke ten minutes before my act was due to begin. It happens on the mainstream circuit and I shouldn't get too precious but it did knock the wind out of my sails and put me on the back foot. I struggled a bit but managed to get the crowd back on my side by the time I did the auction. Note to self, why do I always write about the dodgy gigs and not the ones I regularly storm? Maybe I think a little bit more about the ones that don't go so well...note to agents and bookers, in almost 2500 gigs I've died less than a dozen times OK?

I've recently spent some real quality time with my youngest daughter M. She's such a chatterbox and a joy to be with. We even went to a pub and had lunch together...I know you've read my thoughts on children in pubs and I admit I'm a hypocrite. Speaking of which, my continuing battle with Brewsters chain of ..er....Restaurants is ongoing. "Why do you go in them Mark?" I hear you cry? Well often they are attached to the Travel Inn I'm staying at and I've little choice. The most recent example was in Whitehaven, I approached the bar and asked the peculiarly looking waitress if I could have an ashtray, I looked on incredulously as she walked back to the table I'd just come from and brought me my own dirty ashtray with the a triumphant look on her face not seen since she completed the Take A Break crossword! Needless to say a Roughy withering look soon put the situation right. So I've come up with my own way of letting Brewsters know what I think of them. As you'll be aware, being a working Comedian involves long hours on the road travelling, with very few opportunities for a lavatory break...Solution? I now only go to the bog if I see a Brewsters, so far I've dumped in 19 of them and I've actually got a UK map with all of them marked out courtesy of Travel Inn! My next plan involves a trip out with my mates in Bradford. Ten pints of Timothy Taylor's Landlord and a Bradford curry! At the last count there were 9 Brewsters between Bradford and my home in Manchesterford and I intend using them all!
FTM!