Monday 26th June 2006

Jennifer stayed over last night and began her epic drive back to Denver with Lorin Partridge and a guy called 'Shorts' this afternoon, something I didn't envy her doing in the least. The temperature was way over 100 and driving through the desert wouldn't be fun. Couple that with Jen having a habit of being, how shall I put it, less than amiable towards other inconsiderate motorists every six to eight feet, it was going to be a stressful day for all involved. I've not really seen much of her this weekend, which is disappointing because she is one of my nearest and dearest, but she didn't stay at the convention for too long each night and wild horses couldn't have dragged me away.

I rang Jimmy and Troy Baxley, the comic, and we convened for an afternoon drink and - miracle of miracles - a buffet lunch. Why didn't I learn about this earlier? All the fruit and salad I needed, and every hotel has an all-you-can-eat deal for about $10. That's the ticket. There was I, reduced to McDonalds for the whole weekend, but I'll know for next time. Troy had a flight to catch so Jimmy and I headed up The Strip to the big casinos and a couple of martinis. He's a great guy, very intelligent, and over the course of the evening we discussed doing some business together. He's wanting to set some stuff up in the UK and he trusts me as a partner. We'll see, we'll see. Very exciting though. This is the thing - people might think coming 5,500 miles to drink yourself silly is pointless. They don't get it. These are wonderful people, and once they know you and like you, they'll help you and take advantage of the contact. Something ALWAYS comes from things like this, not that there's anything else quite like it. Coming to the Modern Drunkard Convention is a sound career move as well as being a place to make new friends and catch up with old ones.

We've also discussed me coming back to Denver in September and playing some gigs at The Comedy Works. He can sort out free flights through a pilot friend, he gets special rates at The Ramada Hotel, and there'd be a fee for the gigs and so it would be sensible proposition. And I get to go back to Denver. Titsa, the MC from the convention, has also suggested she put me in touch with a promoter who's getting her work around the Mid West and we go and play all those places. I say "absa damn lutely". America's where you should be aiming. People in the UK sit about trying to come up with sit-com ideas which is all very well but it doesn't seem to occur to them that America holds the entertainment cards. Besides, seeing as I'm British, and according to Troy there's no-one out here doing the sort of stuff I do on stage, it's a big 'in'. So long as I'm not left out of pocket, I'll tour America to death. I think I should concentrate on loosing a bit of weight, maybe about a stone, look sharp and at my best (no matter what that is), polish up some international material, and hit the clubs. Make as bigger splash as I can, and bring with me all the TV ideas that I can then start touting about. I love being in The States, I find America fascinating, and so why not?

We'll get it set up for September and hopefully some other cities too. I'd like to do some obscure towns along the way if they have comedy clubs. Get to see something other than the metropolises.

Jimmy and I stood outside The Bellagio and watched the fountain show which is genuinely impressive. It's all set to 'Hey Big Spender' and takes place on a vast lake as dozens and dozens of fountains synchronise to the music and blast water maybe a hundred feet in the air at some points. You hear the explosions like canon fire as the jets shoot the water up - unimaginable force. Look around the other way and there'll fireworks exploding off another hotel. It's all rather bizarre. We went to Caesar's Palace but decided to leave the other big institutions for another time.

Didn't bother with the helicopter ride to The Grand Canyon. God, that's stupid. One of the wonders of the world. Couldn't be bothered. Still, it's a good reason to come back.

Because Vegas was basically started by Wise Guys, or the casinos were at any rate, the culture is still to out-do and out-gimmick the opposition, just as mobsters still like to be though of as the biggest and be given the most respect today. As soon as a newish hotel is getting old-hat, they dynamite it and build something even more outrageous. The new projects cost something like three billion dollars a piece, but they reckon they'll make that back in five years. Then they'll get a bit of profit and blow it up and build something that'll cost five billion. There's one being built at the moment which a recreation of San Francisco, complete with Golden Gate Bridge. You've gotta love Vegas, it's cheesy but no-where's cheesier, so it's the King. Also, to give it it's due, I've discovered that you can eat at some of the world's best restaurants here. It's not in the least like Blackpool where you sort of revel in everything being horrible. Here things might be tacky, but they're also nice and occasionally even pretty classy.

The downside is there's absolutely no sense of history. They knocked down The Sands for Chrisssakes! Frank, Deano, Sammy, all playing in the lounge, getting blasted, making fun of each other, this was Vegas folklore - we've all seen the fabulous photo of five of them standing in front of The Sands and the bill on a sign behind with their names below the legend 'There's a place in the sun' - but it had to go. What idiot signed that piece of paper? The Drunkard Convention would surely have been there if the joint still existed, just out of homage. So that's sad. There's a road called Sands now, in memory of its namesake. So they have no problem knocking down the hotel itself, but they'll name a road in it's memory?

The Sahara is another old-school joint that has somehow survived, and seen some action since the fifties, so I went there. There's a roller coaster in it. You get in and it blasts you off at about eighty miles and hour, out of the hotel, around the side, over a loop, round the other side and then up a vertical piece of track where you eventually come to a halt before being pulled back down, up to speed, and doing the track backwards until you're back in the station. It's ace.

But all good things... I've got a hell of an early start tomorrow and started to feel unwell in a dive bar and left my beer. I leave it as a token offering to the Vegas Gods. We'll be back to drink plenty more of your supply another time. But for now, it's over. We must leave.

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