This post is dedicated to the people whom I met at Meet The Media. I was the guy with the hat and the foul mouth.
I am totally not telling you to fuck off. No. It's the goddamned boulevard of broken dreams that can fuck right off. The Fringe is never going to break me, but it is going to break some performers. And that's what I hate.
Here's the story. You spent hours in a queue waiting to meet me. Then you got two minutes or something to tell me about your show. This is a horror film. 'Hey, Mr Critic, I spent my life working on this and... oh, I get an email address.'
Now I am in The Loft Bar. There are probably celebrities here. There are certainly celebrities on the walls. They are comedians. They came to the Fringe. They became famous. Feel the pressure yet.
I love you artists. We can do better. I don't know how. But it's not an arts market I want to see. I want... I want...
Is there a bouffon who can tell us the truth about ourselves?