My parent's house is a mine of wasted time and chocolate biscuits.

I have spent the last four and a half hours watching Wife Swap, E TV's Top 101 Most Outrageous Television Moments, Antiques Roadshow, Parkinson and a soppy Made for TV Movie from 1986.
Genius.

When you jump around onstage for two hours every night entertaining Christchurch Punters at the Harbourlight in Lyttelton, a little me time to watch crap TV is highly appreciated.

The worst thing is it is a beautiful day here and I am wasting by plugging a USB port into my Navel and a TV aerial into my ass. (Metaphorically of course. My parents might get annoyed as to the state of their electrical equipment otherwise.)

BUT OMG, you won't believe what happened in Wife Swap, this woman who we shall call Satan Bitch from Hell, aborted the mission after three days as she found out the other wife had broken up her now husband's first marriage. She accused her of being a marriage wrecking whore biscuit and demanded she leave her nuptial dwellings and EIGHT kids.

Thanks Christ for that the whore thought to herself.

Funny how she was a whore when it was the man who was married, but gosh darn it if some women aren't total sillybillies sometimes.

BUT let's remind ourselves, it's just a TV programme.

HHHHmmmm.

The worst thing about this house though is there is chocolate and jellybeans and chocolate ice-cream and spongy puds and cheese and butter stashed in every nook and cranny. My father merrily ignores his heart condition with wanton abandon and stuffs his face regularly with crap.....so like father like daughter. (Well excepting the heart condition part...hopefully.)

But luckily I'm only home for a week AND i am expending a lot of energy onstage every night so I reckon I'm fine. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it like Sticky Toffee Pudding.

The shows have been going well, thanks for asking. Well excepting the night when my parents brought along 65 family friends.

Whilst I am immensely grateful to them for being such fabulous parental supporters, and to the friends for giving me their $20, the night was a total nightmare. A whole heap of people of a certain age with a disapproving eye on my subject matter, not laughing at my obviously hilarious self, was, shall we say, fucked.

A friend described it perfectly.

We comedians are addicts. We are addicted to being laughed at and when we don't get out hit we suffer appalling withdrawl. AND I had to drive so I couldn't even substitute laughs with the Methadone that is Beer and Wine. Still I went to a friends house and played a PlayStation Trivial Pursuit Gameshow, so that helped slightly. I even managed to win even though I had the most wrong answers and slowest answer times, crafty wee bitch huh.

The next night though was fabulous and even featured two MP's in my crowd. (Labour of course so things didn't get out of hand.) SO I no longer have the shakes and my bowel movements are back to normal.

Phew.

See you back in Auckland on Monday, then only three weeks to go til Canada!