Oof.

Tonight is the final night of our show, Greatness Thrust Upon Them.

A month-long season. Our first.

Over the past month I have:

- Eaten out almost every night.

- Eaten dinner at one of the following times: 5.45pm or 11.45pm.

- Had maybe three vegetables, accidentally.

- Made four new friends (our cast and Johnboy, our lighting genius).

- Refrained from getting the flu

- Seen three other comedy shows, rather than nine million, which is what I had planned.

Tonight's going to be awesome. Come along. Still tickets left and I get the feeling it's going to be a good one!

Every year, poor old Stew has a birthday in the middle of the comedy festival.

This year, he is joined by Chris, our brilliant performer who plays Robin and does hilarious monkey impressions.

The pair of them are wonderful and I'm very glad they were both born.

Here's to their parents. Huzzah!

Just a bit of advice to everyone thinking they'll rock up to our show in the final week: book your tickets.

Standing and looking hard done by in the foyer will not, unfortunately, ensure you get a seat at the last minute.

Booking really is the only way to ensure you get a seat.

This is the final week of our comedy festival show, Greatnes Thrust Upon Them.

I don't know what I'll do with myself next Tuesday. At the moment, this is the pattern:

9.30am - go to work, have a coffee just in case you get tired later. Bounce about feeling perfectly fine.

4pm - crash completely, exhausted, useless. Lose the ability to speak, count, type, think, exist etc.

4.30 - contemplate a second coffee. Probably too late. Have cold water instead. Stare into the middle distance. Receive sympathetic looks from co-workers. Sometimes a pat on the shoulder. Repress desire to weep.

5pm - leave work.

5.30 - get to trades hall, greet actors, crew, bar staff. Get news updates (who's running late, who's tired, who has a cold, what props are missing, how many people have booked tickets). Contemplate dinner of baked potato again (or decide for dinner later on).

6pm - wake up all of a sudden, triggered by nothing but pattern recognition.

6.30 - Stew walks in and says "Half hour call". There's something about the way he says it. I don't get any less awake.

7pm - so very awake. Show starts.

8pm - show finishes. I see friends in the audience, or nobody I know, and saunter downstairs to the bar.

11pm - eat dinner on the nights I didn't eat a baked potato. Regret earlier baked potato decision.

1.30am - about ready for bed. Think things over. Glad I didn't have a second coffee.

See?

Next week, what will I do?

So on Tuesday Melbourne experienced the worst storms since, you know, global warming etc.

This rendered several shows in the comedy festival performer-free, due to comedians being stuck in traffic, blown off the street into surrounding bushes etc.

Our cast made it in time, but it was touch and go and the audience was windswept, to say the least.

Then, next door, the plumbers union had a party. No, I'm not even kidding. A loud party. Involving both Farnzie and Barnzie. And a few rousing choruses (chori?) of Pogues numbers at eight trillion decibells in the middle of our play.

Mother nature, she's a wonderful thing. Plumbers, they're great.

Sometimes, though, timing is everything and it is my contention that timing is not mother nature OR the plumbers union's strong point.

Just saying.

Another review today: www.pretendpaper.com