Why do I always get out of the way? Ok, I don’t weigh 300 pounds, and that’s a good thing, but does it mean I should step into the gutter just so that a bunch of drunken twittering girls linking arms, oblivious to anyone else, can go past? Or that I should manoeuvre my shopping basket around the idiots that have stopped in the supermarket aisle to have some inane conversation with their pals from the golf course. Yes, I am pretty good at manouvering around people and other obstacles, it comes from living in London. I’d have probably made a great agility dog. But London was always so crowded that it was easy to get revenge if someone pushed you or got in your way. A punch in the back or a kick on the shins is easy on a crowded tube train or when jamming through a group of French exchange students.

That’s not so easy here. Sometimes when I see someone headed towards me that’s making no effort to allow me room to pass, I square up my shoulders and flex my imaginary bicep and it becomes a game of chicken. But I just end up bruised. Whacked in the face by a backpack, or a real bicep. And then I apologise, while mentally pulping their pig-ugly face.

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Did shows at The Velveeta Room last night. Before the start of the show I was bragging to another comic about my trapeze exploits and how brilliant it all was.

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… and sort of do it anyway.

I did my first trapeze class on Saturday. It was terrifying, in a terrifying kind of way.

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