On the run from Andi Peters following a misunderstanding about cruises, Melissa begrudgingly agrees to follow her friend Joanne (and Joanne’s 17th century throwback ‘life partner’ Fax) to the Edinburgh Fringe. While leafleting for Fax’s dreadful stand up show about faith healing and vegans, Melissa endures the highs and lows of pretentious student plays, ‘street typing’, and the knowledge that her shop has been left in the hands of someone who doesn’t understand tills…

Crap Comedy is the follow up to the 2018 novel Crap Holiday. Read it here.

Turns out buying wine did not fix my ‘I have accidentally bought a cruise’ problem. All that’s happened is that I’ve still accidentally bought a cruise, but now I’m a bit pissed too. You’d think this would help me cope with the first problem, but no.

The only possible solution presenting itself to my useless mind is ‘run away’. It’s times like these that I really miss Daniel. My Andrew Lincoln mug is very popular with me, but Andrew doesn’t have the same problem- solving skills that Daniel had.

I could try to get in touch with real life Daniel O’Donnell? I dismiss this idea for two reasons. 1) he’d think I was a bit mental, and he probably doesn’t know about my Daniel O’Donnell mug. B) I’d just end up buying a bastard cruise off him as well, I assume.

I look at the letter again. The cruise starts in two weeks, which means that, after I don’t get on it, I need to disappear for a couple of weeks after that, to avoid the Andi Peters police, which my brain has recently invented, but I am now convinced is a real thing. The furthest my brain has got so far is ‘Well they might not know where you live’. In reply I show my brain the letter WITH MY ADDRESS ON IT, and tell it to shut the hell up.

I lie back down on my carpet/pit of despair, and mull over my options again.

  1. Kill myself
  2. That’s it.

Just as I’m starting to think about where the nearest tall building is, my brain interjects with a new suggestion.

  1. Go to Scotland with Joanne and Fax.

Brain, if you seriously think I’d rather do that than jump off a building, you’re…

My brain’s having none of it. Clearly I haven’t poisoned it enough yet. More wine. I am not going to Edinburgh. Edinburgh means sharing a flat with those two shagging bastards and their auras, and having to pay to watch fat naked women yell poetry about the ozone layer. No.

‘Fine, you think of something then’, says my brain, smugly. Right I will. I’ll show you, brain.

Unfortunately, wine and problem-solving skills aren’t a great match, and I end up in a battle of ‘not speaking to each other’ with my brain. It’s got to the point where I’m seriously considering watching Love Island, when the phone rings.

It’s either Joanne wanting to talk about needing her anus cleansed with sage, or it’s work to tell me Saif has set fire to the Co-op. I can’t decide which one I’m rooting for.

I pick the phone up like it’s an unexploded bomb, preparing two different excuses in my head.

‘Hello from Starbrite Travel LTD. This is a courtesy call to remind you that the balance for your … CRUISE to … ABU DHABI lasting for … FOURTEEN NIGHTS has not yet been paid in full. If you wish to pay the balance now, please hold for one of our operators…’

Instead of pressing ‘cancel’ on the call, I make the interesting decision to throw it across the room. When I come to my senses I lunge for the phone, jabbing at all the buttons until it goes off. Then I dial Joanne’s number.

‘Yo.’

‘Yes hello, are you still going to Scotland?’

‘Hi Mel, of course! I keep telling you, Fax can’t hide his light under a bush…’

‘Yes OK can I come with you please.’

I can hear her grinning down the phone. This makes me need a poo out of sheer rage. ‘Of course you can come, but you have to agree to help out with the flyers…’

‘What? Yeah, whatever.’

‘Oh excellent! Fax and I were just coming up with some new material for his debut! This is the first one…’

‘Sorry no I’ve got to go, I… need a poo.’

I put the phone down and stare into space for quite a long time. God damn you Andi Peters, you temptress.

Well?

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