It's a special bumper edition of my blog, because I fell a bit behind but also fringe madness is setting in and the days are all blurring into one. Today, I'd like to talk to you about flyering.
Flyering is quite important in Edinburgh, for a fairly unknown performer (we're working on this), and there is no place better than the Royal Mile, where thousands upon thousands of people walk very slowly in two directions for a mile. Perfect people to give small pieces of paper pertaining to my show to/at.
I'm quite noticeable on the Mile. I wear 8.6 inch heels, and am also a man in a wig.
Note the heels. Note the spindles.
Because of this, a lot of people like to take my photo, and I am super cool with this, because I am a massive narcissist. However, a lot of people don't ask to take my picture, which ordinarily would be fine, but these people are often very reluctant to TAKE A FLYER AFTERWARDS. They do a cheeky lil smile and shrug, while I am immortalised on their cameras with nothing to show for it. I know I'm a strange sight to behold in the average person's daily life, and I'm all for taking pictures, but my actual show is so SO much better than just me standing on a street, and if people enjoy that, imagine the joy they'll have at 9:15pm at Espionage Mata Hari (cheeky plug). Also these people don't do anything with my picture (maybe because my social media handles are on the back of the flyer they haven't taken), so I'm gaining literally nothing from their snapping, which they often demand takes at least thirty seconds, in which I've missed out on flyering about twenty people. It's not the worst thing in the world, and there are people that are dying, Kim, but standing in 8.6 inch heels makes me less open to fuckery.
It also makes me less open to MURDER. On Friday, I was standing in my heels, minding my own business, giving out my flyers, when a group of about fifteen 10-14 year old Scottish children accosted me, aggressively confused about the fact that a man was in a dress and wig in front of them. One of them said 'ugh your makeup is shit' or something, and I said 'I'm not wearing makeup, this is just my face' and this riled them more. One of them then started kicking at the spindly rods that constitute the actual heel of my shoes, which felt like they were either about to break or slip, thus sending me plummeting seven feet, probably to my death. I was standing in front of a concert bollard, as well, and I was fully ready for my back to break, with my parents picking up my body from Edinburgh not even in my nicest dress. Luckily some delightful flyerers came to my aid, forming a protective barrier between the children and me, sending them on their merry way. I've always relied on the kindness of strangers.
So, in essence, if you want to take a picture of me, take a flyer as well. And if you take a picture of me, please tweet it, to satisfy my ego. Also don't try and end my life.
Thanks.