I was in Stockholm on Saturday night to perform at a fiftieth birthday party.
I had some time to kill so met up with my old muckers Bisse and Louis. We met in the café on the second floor of Kulturhuset that overlooks Plattan. In spite of the cultured surroundings it’s hard to sit by the window, and not pretend to be an East German assassin looking down the sights of a rifle. Or maybe it’s just me.
Bisse is my writing partner on the sitcom and Louis is one of the guys behind Laughs At The Liffey. We talked comedy and although we weren’t using high powered weaponry, we managed to character assassinate one or two of the names on the stand up scene.
I got to the party, which was at a great venue called Peder Muur, and asked for the guy who had booked me, whose birthday it was. I was tapped on the shoulder by a guy wearing a proper 50 road sign round his neck. ‘Happy Birthday’, I said.
The gig went well – a nice crowd of intelligent people aged between 40 and 60 who were the right side of tipsy without being too drunk. Louis had tagged along to watch and we stuck around for a bit afterwards to drink beers with the party goers.
The only downer of the night was that the last train back to Linköping, was not only an hour earlier than normal, but had become a bus. I found myself sprinting across town and through Central Station led by Louis (who is clearly younger and fitter than I am) to get to the bus stop with one minute to spare.
A nice evening in the capital… ruined by three hours of cramped sleep on a Swebus.
I just hate when the bus cramps your capital style.
BB
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