I had very few weekends early on in my career
because I was always gigging. So now when I do
come across one, I get very excited. I like to think
I’d jet off to Venice or Tuscany or somewhere
lovely like that, but in reality I wouldn’t want to. No matter what time of the week it is I always
feel like I should be working, so on an imaginary
perfect weekend I’d do a brilliant gig on Friday
night, one so good that all other comedians
would die of jealousy if they saw it. It would be
at a West End theatre packed to the gills, for which I’d be paid a nice lump sum delivered in
cash to my dressing room. I’d then drink
moderately, but adequately, from a bottle of very
chilled, very good chablis. I have terrible
chardonnay tastes which I’m apparently meant to
have grown out of by now, so I might have to decant some cheap chardonnay into an
expensive chablis bottle.