What: Laughing about these Brits trying to buy tickets to my show at the O2. Hilarious. They’ve all got three laptops out, their smartphones in their hand, trying to load the page, getting a little way, then clicking refresh for four hours and thinking it’s finally working when… uh-oh, click here to try again. Absolutely brilliant. I got this firm called Ticket ABC to run it for me. It’s basically these two old guys who sit in an office above an out-of-business fishing tackle shop , and they sit there reading each ticket application on the computer and marking down the purchase request on an unused diary from 1996. One of the guys then has to go to the backroom and quickly scramble through the box of tickets and check what’s available, then he goes back to the main office and lets the guy on the computer know if there are tickets, but most of the time they just have to click cancel because the box of tickets is in such a mess and they have no idea what’s available. It’s really an incredible system, if you like slapstick. They describe themselves as ‘white label’. I don’t know what that means, but I think it means shit.
What: Looking at Jim Norton’s website, just wondering and wondering, did the last 15 years actually happen - the failures, the hard work, the success, the superstardom - or was it all just a dream? Is it really still 1998?
Wearing: Black T-Shirt. Black jacket.
Where: Hey guys. Louis here. If you don’t want to read this then don’t. I won’t even know. Just wanted to give you some big news. I met with a network today - the Riotcast network. The network head, Robert Kelly, says they have listeners all over the world - Australia, Canada, the UK, England - and he’s giving me a pilot episode for a podcast. Putting it together at the moment. The plan is to interview a personality each week, asking no-holds-barred questions: is political correctness bad for comedy; if you have a number that consists of 6 different digits which when multiplied by 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 yields in all cases a new 6-digit number that is a permutation of the original 6 different digits, what is that number; what are your favorite memories of Tough Crowd. Things like that. Hoping the first guest will be Lewis Mumford. Just trying to contact his agent at the moment. Will let you know when it’s on iTunes.
Wearing: Black T-Shirt.
Where: With Barry Katz in the apartment you rent from him. The two of you met in Central Park when you were beaten up and he rescued you. He lives in tunnels under the city. He’s going to hate that you wrote your set-list on the wall using hot sauce:
1. Shut Up
2. Stupid Postcards
3. Who Built That Bridge
4. No Cameras On Holiday
6. Cigars Aren’t Sexy
7. Peter Rabbit Organics
8. Old People Throwing Snowballs
9. Hard Work
10. Yosemite Bears
12. Bumped By David Spade
13. Unicorns And Depression
14. Signature Burgers
Wearing: Blue T-Shirt. Brown cords. Belt.
Where: In front of a blue sign.
Wearing: Cap. Blue T-Shirt. Zip-up dark top.
Where: You’re on the Opie & Anthony show. The studio smells like coughs. Opie’s debating cultural hegemony with Geoff from Jersey who keeps using the phrase “scientifically speaking”. There’s a kid here called Sam. He seems smart; a big future; a cloud over his elders’ future; a square-shaped cloud. Jimmy keeps tugging your hair. You dress him as a ghost and sneak him out so he can phone HBO. He says he needs to arrange a life-raft for these guys. Anthony’s at home disinfecting tins of fruit.
Wearing: Long-sleeved black T-Shirt.
Where: At the start of the Lost Weekend. Trumpet’s in town, shiny and sophisticated, a real talent too. You and him go way back. You show him the sights. Good morning Statue of Liberty. Good morning Coney Island. Hello skyscrapers, reaching so high up into the air. Hello Central Park, would you like to have a picnic? Good afternoon several Midtown bars. Hello ATM. Good evening Village bars. Hello ATM. Good evening strip bar. Hey Trumpet, shut up. Hello ATM with charges. Fuck you Trumpet. Hello falafel bar. Hello ATM. In a restaurant bawling for drink while it’s closing. Back of a pick-up. A bridge. Beers. Trumpet the rube. Hello ATM. Taxi. Hello angry driver. Bed. Pass out. Wake up. Nervous. Did Trumpet make it home? The blackout partially develops: giving yourself a handjob on Bleecker, then again at home, but with someone, and everyone getting angry and awkward, and oh God, did you ejaculate on Trumpet?
Wearing: Jeans. Sunglasses. Jumper. Black T-Shirt.
Where: Just thinking and thinking, about the years in Boston, when things progressed to the point where you had to either succeed or retreat to life as a grinder, and all the drudgery that entails. And then thinking about the good years, and the growing success, and those little points where it started to feel like everything was big, and you held the power, and the circuit was looking to YOU, and everything was there for the taking. And then the fear, because what if this is the start of the decline? What if there’s never a special as good as that one? What if you’ve used it all up? When will the end come? Because it’s got to come. And will you recognize it? Jesus Christ, you need some fucking doughnuts.
What: Black jumper. Black T-Shirt.
What: Jeans. Jumper. Yellow T-Shirt. Dad coat.
Where: On the set of Point Break 2, which Louis directed and starred in. The film tells the story of four friends who watch Point Break and take up surfing, but realise it’s really difficult and give up.
Louis played the ringleader Opbro who’s middle-aged, of average intelligence and brimming with come. The four men travel round the country wearing Nixon masks, while being pursued by a hotel clerk played by Matthew Perry.
Eventually Louis and Perry come face-to-face and Perry shouts, “This is your wake-up call.” RUSH! ADRENALINE!!! Opbro’s three companions die, but Opbro escapes and turns into a giant spider.
The movie was a box-office flop, but it became notorious for a leaked audio clip in which Louis tells a crew member:
"I’m sorry to do this, but you’ve smashed seven camera lenses in the past week and it’s really slowing us down, and maybe it would be best if you leave the set."
Media pundits pretended to be shocked by what they heard and demanded the director apologize to whatever sections of society they could associate with the crew member. Louis was fired and replaced by a big mess of people who have no originality or creativity, but who work in the film industry because they hope it masks how boring they are.
In a furious public statement Louis said: “I don’t care.”
Wearing: Jeans. Brown leather belt. Black jumper. Black T-Shirt.
Where: MacDougal Street, New York.
What: Black T-Shirt.
Where: Making his eulogy to Kim Dae Jung at the National Assembly Building in Seoul. The speech famously prompted tears from several world leaders, but toward the end of his set Louis told a joke about an ‘Awesome Possum’ T-Shirt, which deeply offended the North Korean delegation.
US diplomats successfully smoothed over the incident and it was largely forgotten until several North Korean defectors revealed Louis is now an extremely controversial figure within the Hermit state. Interviewed by Barbara Demick, the defectors said Louis has been labeled a heretic within the main administrative zones, but in rural areas he has become a folk hero, with followers drawing the outline of a possum in the dirt to identify each other.
Since the incident Louis has been dropped as the go-to comedian for State funerals and the role has been taken over by Bob Kelly.
What: Jeans. Black T-Shirt.