Simon Amstell: Do Nothing Page #4

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I felt there was a flirty vibe between us,

but I wasn't sure, and I have to be sure.

When I was running up the Champs-Elysee

with the people in Paris,

one of them asked if he could come back

to my hotel room that night,

'cause he said the Metro wasn't going

to be able to get him back to his hotel.

I knew he was sort of making that up,

but I didn't know.

I knew he liked me a bit, but I didn't know.

It got to the point we were in my hotel room,

both under the covers, half-naked,

and I'm still going,

"My God, but what is this?

"What is this? I don't know what this is.

What is this?"

"What is this?

My penis is in his mouth, but is he joking?"

It was too close to the fantasy,

there was a fear of rejection,

I didn't know what to do,

so I did what I always do.

I ignored him completely, became friends

with somebody he knows quite well,

and now, every Sunday,

she is teaching me piano.

It was too close to the fantasy.

It was too much for me.

I should have remembered

what my mum used to say

about how you could be or do

anything you want in this life,

because everyone you see on TV, or on film,

they all sh*t.

She used to say that a lot.

She would point at the television and say,

"Sh*t comes out of them."

"You'll be a star."

I feel like we're all damaged in a way, right?

We're all sort of damaged.

You're damaged, right? We're all damaged.

You look quite damaged. Are you damaged?

A little bit, yeah.

And I don't mind that so much.

I feel like that's where

the good stuff comes from.

The only reason comedy exists

is because we have tragedy.

That's the way it works.

Tragedy plus time equals comedy.

Although that's not the...

I realised what the formula really should be,

is tragedy plus time plus joke.

You can't just be involved

in horrific tragedy

and wait.

And I feel special in some way,

if I feel broken.

If I'm broken, there's a journey to be healed.

There's a journey to be fixed.

I feel like I'm an interesting,

unique human being.

In the meaninglessness of it all,

I feel unique, I feel special.

I like that I've got an osteopath appointment

once a month,

where I go because I've got bad posture,

something happened in my past,

and I guess this man is healing me

each month,

bringing me to some sort of neutral state,

some pure, neutral state.

And I asked him,

because he's quite a sensitive, sweet man,

"Why did I end up with bad posture?

"Is it because when I was a kid,

I was quite shy

"and ended up trying to make myself

invisible from the other children

"and ended up all hunched over

and scared?"

And even though what I do now

is extrovert,

still inside, I'm the same scared, crying child.

I said, "What's wrong with me?

Why would that happen to me?

"What's wrong with me?"

And he said, "You have

very tight hamstrings."

"Yeah, but isn't it more

that I'm a genius recluse? Isn't that the..."

He said, "No, the tendons behind your knees

are quite restricted."

"Yeah, but isn't that just the

physical manifestation of a tortured soul?"

"No, it's your legs."

Similarly, I got ill a few weeks ago,

and this happened the day before.

I've got a cat. Obviously I've got a cat.

I really thought the cat

would end my loneliness.

It has only become a mascot

for my loneliness.

Because if anyone does come round, they go,

"Oh, you've got a cat. Are you quite lonely?

"What's he called?" "Solitude."

I woke up, and the cat had peed on my bed.

Because I was still half asleep,

I ended up putting my hand in the cat's pee.

I then went to grab the cat

to put its head in its pee.

Not as an act of revenge.

My mum had just told me

that's how you teach it not to do it again.

It doesn't work. It doesn't remember

the great moral lesson of Tuesday.

It just ends up with a head

covered in its own pee,

wandering around, wondering how

that could have happened.

In the process of grabbing the cat,

the cat scratched my hand,

the same hand where the pee was.

There was then some blood

coming out of my hand

and maybe some pee

getting into my bloodstream.

And I thought, "I've got cat AIDS."

I tried not to think that,

because I believe that thinking makes it so.

I woke up the next morning

and I couldn't stop vomiting into my toilet.

So violent was the vomit coming out of me,

it was going into my toilet,

it was all around the toilet as well,

sort of spattering all over the floor,

my cat came, put my head in the vomit.

I felt so weak and thin and pale.

I saw myself in the mirror,

I thought, "He's hot."

On the way to the doctor, I wondered,

"Should I mention

what happened with the cat?"

I felt a bit embarrassed about it,

but I thought it could be relevant,

it could be relevant

to what's happened this morning.

I got there, I told him about the vomiting,

and I said, "I don't know if this is anything,

"but my cat yesterday peed on my bed,

"some of it got on my hand

and then there was some blood."

I said, "I don't know...

I've heard about cat AIDS?"

She looked at me in a way that I thought

doctors were trained not to look at patients.

"Uh, no, there's no way

you could have cat AIDS.

"You're not a cat."

You all right? You having fun?

You're quite thin, aren't you?

What's your name? Colin!

Okay. Colin... What, wait... Colin? Caitlin?

Cathal.

Go on, one more.

Cathal.

Cathal.

I still don't know what his name is.

What... Connor?

- Cathal.

- Cathal!

Cohil?

C- O-H-I-L?

Oh, yeah, laugh at the idiot Englishman.

Yeah.

Yeah. I'm trying my best. I'm being polite.

Yeah, go on, spell it, yeah.

C- O-T-K-H-I...

Hang on! I'm speaking to Cohil.

He can do it, even though

he may have some dyslexia issues.

Let's hope. Let's hope so. Let's hope so.

Go on, then.

C- A-T-H-A-L.

C- A-T-H-A-L.

That's pretty f***ed-up, huh?

I'm Simon.

I think that went quite well, don't you?

Oh, God. What the hell was I talking about?

Oh, yeah. I remember.

I bloody remember. I can do this.

The main problem is that we feel like

we're living into the future.

Really what we're doing

is living into the past.

We're constantly repeating

moments from the past,

hoping for better endings.

Whenever I'm with my family,

I feel like if I could just heal the past,

maybe then I can live in possibility,

maybe then the future could be a blank page

where anything could happen.

Until that point, I feel like I'm going to repeat

moments from the past.

It was recently my grandpa's birthday party,

his 70th birthday party,

at this restaurant in Essex.

Everyone was there,

apart from my brother's girlfriend,

who he's been with for about four years.

She was not there, on account of

a couple of the family members

having a problem with her not being a Jew.

We mustn't judge them for this.

This is just because...

It's just because they personally have

a very strong belief in racism, so...

And that's their belief. What can you do?

There's nothing you can do.

You're very lucky in Ireland.

I don't suppose you've ever had any sort of

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