Tomorrow I am going to a magic convention. Now I realise that people think a magic convention will be full of nerdy twat-like loners shuffling around wearing top hats and trying to stay out of direct sunlight. Well you're wrong; not all of them wear top hats. The fact is I do love magic and I have a lot of friends who are magicians so regard these occasions (I go to 2 or 3 of them a year) as social events and if there is some good magic to watch, that's a bonus. Everybody thought magic could never be 'cool' after the Paul Daniel's era of ruffled shirts and velvet bow ties and telling volunteers to "stand on the trap door", then came David Blaine. David Blaine was perceived to be the epitome of 'cool', all in black, moodily slinking around the streets of New York performing impossible feats of sleight of hand (allegedly) and mind reading without the visible support of a personality. Unfortunately the general public seemed to lose patience with Mr Blaine when he started standing on top of large poles for long periods of time, sitting in Perspex boxes and swimming around in big goldfish bowls for no apparent reason. It seemed the only way the popularity of magic could survive the 21st century was for someone to perform conjuring tricks but not call them that. We needed people to think what they were watching was something more refined, more sophisticated, more cerebral and less akin to fat, sweating kiddy fiddlers dressed as clowns pulling rabbits out of "empty" boxes. And as if by magic, poof!, Derren Brown appeared. Now people can marvel at the wonder and excitement of magic without feeling patronised by the magician (or embarrassed by his dress sense). As a magician I hope Mr Brown's popularity continues to soar and for the sake of the image of magic he doesn't feel the urge to start balancing on long poles (there's a joke there somewhere….).

Listened to a very funny show on Radio 4 today on the "listen again" thing on the internet. It is presented as a genuine phone in show but it's a spoof show featuring Paul Whitehouse, Rhys Thomas, Harry Enfield, Charlie Higson, Catherine Tate and more. Very, very funny and quite a good slow burn too as the first few callers are quite believable. I'm not sure how long the links last on these things so if this one doesn't work, just go to www.bbc.co.uk/radio4 and search for "Down The Line". Speaking of (or rather 'writing about') Catherine Tate; it's her birthday today - hoorah!

Last week Jonathan Harvey and I were asked to write a sketch for Sports Relief for the cast of Footballers Wives. Jonathan wrote a version of it, then I wrote a version then all the best bits from each were put into one final draft. During all this the news broke that the series Footballer's Wives was not being re-commissioned; so this meant our mini episode was to be the last ever outing for the series. It's about four (or five, can't remember) scenes long and has a well known celebrity playing the new superstar striker for Earls Park (the football team in FW). Naturally I can't tell you who the guest star is but I can give you a clue; his name begins with "Graham" and ends with "Norton". They are filming it next week, unfortunately I can't go because of other work commitments which is a shame because Ben Richards is in it who I used to share a student house with in Epsom (see biog page).

Went to an Indian restaurant tonight in Mayfair, "Tamarind", very posh and lovely; I can thoroughly recommend it. It's the only Indian restaurant that has won a Michelin star apparently; my hilarious joke of adopting a Brummie accent and ordering "just prawn cocktail and steak and chips for me please" left the waiter rather non-plussed. Sometimes I forget just how annoying I can be.

Had a re-call today for the commercial I went for last Friday. I thought I shouldn't do any more commercials as I've done quite a lot over the years but this commercial is actually quite clever and funny. I've found, over the years, that the trick about going for commercial castings is to go and do them then instantly forget about them as you walk out the door (hence the reason for no mention of it in last Frids blog). I've seen friends writhe in mental agony because they have been told they've been "pencilled" for a big paying commercial; or, God forbid, on a "heavy pencil". This of course sounds quite encouraging until you find out that everyone who went for the job is on a "heavy pencil", except those who couldn't walk and talk at the same time (and even they are on just a "pencil"). I wonder how many job interviews the average person has in their life? Four? Eight? Twelve? I've no idea how many interviews/auditions/castings I've had since I left drama school but I have a sneaking suspicion it's more than twelve. I think I've been quite fortunate in my career (most periods of unemployment have been covered financially by well paid TV commercials or in times of absolute desperation, magic gigs) but when do actors stop being actors? By that I mean if you're an actor but you haven't had an acting job for say, a year, are you still an unemployed actor? Or are you just unemployed? And when is the cut off point? What if you haven't worked as an actor for 2 or 3 years? Is it time for you to wake up and smell the coffee (or start serving it?). When I was at drama school I always said I'd give it three years and if I wasn't making a reasonable living I'd have to re-think. Well, thirteen years later I'm still making a living from acting (and now writing) so I guess the gamble paid off (or is it that my luck is still holding out?). I was talking to a mate the other day and I said that I thought I would really be in demand as an actor when I'm grey and bald and look like Roy Barraclough. Then, of course, came the usual, generous actors reply, "what do you mean when?!". Cunt.

Had a re-call today for the commercial I went for last Friday. I thought I shouldn't do any more commercials as I've done quite a lot over the years but this commercial is actually quite clever and funny. I've found, over the years, that the trick about going for commercial castings is to go and do them then instantly forget about them as you walk out the door (hence the reason for no mention of it in last Frids blog). I've seen friends writhe in mental agony because they have been told they've been "pencilled" for a big paying commercial; or, God forbid, on a "heavy pencil". This of course sounds quite encouraging until you find out that everyone who went for the job is on a "heavy pencil", except those who couldn't walk and talk at the same time (and even they are on just a "pencil"). I wonder how many job interviews the average person has in their life? Four? Eight? Twelve? I've no idea how many interviews/auditions/castings I've had since I left drama school but I have a sneaking suspicion it's more than twelve. I think I've been quite fortunate in my career (most periods of unemployment have been covered financially by well paid TV commercials or in times of absolute desperation, magic gigs) but when do actors stop being actors? By that I mean if you're an actor but you haven't had an acting job for say, a year, are you still an unemployed actor? Or are you just unemployed? And when is the cut off point? What if you haven't worked as an actor for 2 or 3 years? Is it time for you to wake up and smell the coffee (or start serving it?). When I was at drama school I always said I'd give it three years and if I wasn't making a reasonable living I'd have to re-think. Well, thirteen years later I'm still making a living from acting (and now writing) so I guess the gamble paid off (or is it that my luck is still holding out?). I was talking to a mate the other day and I said that I thought I would really be in demand as an actor when I'm grey and bald and look like Roy Barraclough. Then, of course, came the usual, generous actors reply, "what do you mean when?!". Cunt.

Had two emails today from people who found my site from a search engine. How amazing; maybe I have to admit it's not just my mates Alan and Noel who are reading this. Now, I was going to write about something quite sensitive today; money. For some bizarre reason people get very coy talking (or indeed writing) about income; especially performers/writers etc. I was talking to someone very well known at the comedy awards last year, we were talking about the CT Show and that he was a fan of it etc, I said I was a fan of his… we danced for a while… no, that last bit is a joke. Anyway, during the conversation I asked him if he was a millionaire; a perfectly ordinary question I thought - it would seem not. At first he said, "erm, I don't really know". I DON'T REALLY KNOW?! OK, ask yourself this question, "are you a millionaire?" (this is me asking you the reader right now, not to the celeb in question) - I think the answer is almost definitely yes or no. It may well be "mind your own fucking business" but not, "I don't really know". He qualified this in saying, "I've got a bit of property but I don't know how much I'm worth". I'm not having a go at the person I was talking to, he was a really nice bloke but I guess his reaction tells me several things; 1. That I am a nosey bastard with no social skills whatsoever. 2. People generally don't like talking about their income. 3. More specifically, successful people in show business are embarrassed about the level of money they earn. Yes, that's the one. I have earned far more money than my job deserves but then again that doesn't mean I'm rich; it just means that I think my job of titting around in front of a camera or writing things down that make me laugh isn't that 'deserving' in the grand scheme of things. Now, I know what you're thinking… shut the fuck up you whining twat and tell us who the celeb was you spoke to at the comedy awards. I couldn't possibly, it wouldn't be fair; sorry. Right, better go now, don't wanna miss Paul O'Grady's new chat show.

Email today inviting me to a reunion at The Central School of Speech and Drama (or Central School of Screech and Trauma as it is often referred to) and I must say an old saying of my Grandmother's sprang to mind; "I'd rather drink bleach". You see I went to drama school to 'do plays', something I wanted to do ever since I had my 'theatrical appetite' whetted by Richard Green of Northern Theatre (hmm, something tells me that last bit doesn't look too good in print). But in the first 2 years of drama school all I seemed to do was lie on the floor with a book under my head reciting John Dunne and when we weren't doing that we were jumping around pretending to be the animals we'd been 'observing' that morning in Regents Park Zoo (yes, it's actually true, your tax payers money really does go towards dreadful, pretentious twenty something twats jumping from desk to desk pretending to be an African mongoose). So as we came to the summer holidays before my third and final year, it was noted by the staff of the drama school that I didn't actually do anything (when I turned up) and that I should not return for the third and final year. Anyway, I did return, we just did plays and I loved it. What is the point of me banging on about all this? Oh yes, the email about the reunion. It's not that I didn't like the other people in our year (I liked a lot of them; not sure about them liking me though..) it's just that I have always felt an aversion to places of education. Well, I assume I have; I've only been in two, my old school and drama school. Maybe I have a problem with authority? Maybe that's why I work for myself now? Oh god, it's all getting a bit deep now; I only started this blog for somewhere to put the nob jokes I didn't use in my episodes of The Green Green Grass. Trying to upload some of my photos from the BAFTAs but it' not working; will try and put the one of me and Nolly Edmunds in the picture box to the right of this text. Wish me luck.