I would be tubing it to NW5, then east to Hackney; the following night I'd be at Dirty Dicks in EC2 trying some new ideas. The weekend would bring the odd 15 minute set. Yes, I heard heckles of "Don't give up your day-job, mate!". No, it didn't bother me. The joke was on them. I didn't have to give up my day-job. Stand-up got me fired from about three of them.
I become a connoisseur, admiring a nice 90 degree angle and revering a really good spread. I'm so excited by the width between one man's knees, I actually fall into him, in my haste to claim the seat beside him. When I spot an empty seat between two spreaders, it makes my day. I couldn't be happier if I'd found £50 on the floor.