So Long, Mr Fruit Salad
Last night I gave the last ever performance of Joz Norris Is Dead. Long Live Mr Fruit Salad. in Hastings and it was absolutely dreadful. Half the audience walked out, the remainder talked through most of it. Two people liked it and understood it. I can't think of a better and funnier way to lay it to rest. I've banged on about that show here plenty, so I won't overdo it here, just a few final thoughts:
I made that show because I went through a bad time and wanted to make something about the things in your head that make no sense to you and the things you can see that nobody else can, and how you'll never make sense of them, and how rarely anybody else can ever meet you halfway. Seems right that I should send it off with a performance where everyone hated it.
That show turned my life around. It made me believe with some conviction for the first time that I'm objectively good at what I do. I'm excited to make my first ever show that comes from a place of believing in myself and not from a place of self-doubt. I like the idea of not looking back on that show as something perfect I have to somehow live up to, but as an awkward, depressing experience in a cinema in Hastings that only two people liked. Of being reminded that I am an idiot scrabbling at the plughole trying to stop the water from going down it.
Goodbye, Mr Fruit Salad. Thank you, Alex. Thank you, Hollie. Thank you, Flick. Thank you, Emily. Thank you, Ben.
PS There will be no more Mr Fruit Salad-related live stuff. I of course reserve every right to one day use him in a film or telly thing, so don't call me a hypocrite if I ever do that. He's back on the shelf for now, though.