My career was transformed when I repeatedly punched a melon with the face of Vernon Kay amateurishly scrawled on it. A shamanic spell perhaps?
For the first 11 years of my standup life, I was moving further and further away from that teenage excitement I experienced when I sat in a basement room and saw The Joan Collins Fan Club (now Julian Clary), Kit Hollerbach and Jeremy Hardy for the first time. I had increasingly become lazy in my thinking and accompanied by a perpetual hangover.
