Last Friday was a weird one. It's almost a week now and I'm still not quite over it. First there was the unique joy of seeing the boyfriend perched on a recently commandeered toilet bowl, being wheeled around onstage by his mate, "Frank", in front of 4 thousand people (be warned, it'd riddled with expletives). Then I woke up in the foyer of The Clarion in my nightie. But more on that in a bit.
For those more confused than I, here's some background information: Mark 'Lenny' Linehan, a morning DJ for Cork's Red FM (he's been mentioned on this page more than a few times at this stage *blushes*), was challenged by Des Bishop (he did a few hours with KC and Lenny on the Red Rooster all last week to plug his Friday gig in The Marquee) to be one of his warm up acts/get more Corkonian bums on seats. There was one condition - Lenny had to raise €5k for Barnardos in approximately four days. This was accomplished through a flurry of online and cash donations from family, fans and friends (a big thank you to every one of you).
So, for all of you kind souls who keep asking how Lenny got it, here is a brief synopsis in pictures. He was pushed onstage by his helper (every morning radio DJ has one…) called "Frank", who enjoys wearing masks and has a penchant for boiler suits. His opening words were, "Sorry, got caught a bit short there... this is a precautionary measure" I've never wanted him more. He then pulled up his trousers with the aid of a suggestively placed mic, dismissed Frank, and launched into a five minute set about the sheer size of the stage, (which involved a brief run and the deployment of a forward role); those who had graced it beforehand (Dylan, Taylor, Young... GaGa); a wee bit about Sean Og O'Halpin loving boy bands; and many colourful expletives. Then he had to take a call from his mum, in which she berated him for using bad language, before bigging up "the Cork massive". I believe she was carrying a shotgun at the time. To quote Lenny's piece in the Echo: "I had a whole routine set up, but by the time I got on stage that pretty much went out the window... I had a few ideas floating around after I heard that Sean Og and John Gardiner had been to see Boyzone so I had a laugh with that, and I roped my Mum into pre-recording a little skit (indeed, it wasn't live... who'd have thought it?!) where she calls me live on stage, so I chose to finish with that. This was the first time I'd tried stand-up, and to make my debut in front of 4,000 punters was an experience I will never forget. To make more that €5,000 for charity was even better... If I can find a clinic that specialises in lead-lining bowels I might give it another go. Watch this space." (Ew.)
Set successfully over, we high tailed it to the Pavilion, which turned out to be extraordinarily rammed (that's to be expected when Des Bishop informs a massive tent of people that's where he's off to after). A few bops to an endless Michael Jackson Jive Bunny Mega Mix, and several quaffed beers later, we retired to the residents bar in the Clarion. We then ordered room service and slithered into the bed at about 4am. At approximately 6am, the chilly tiles of the foyer floor shocked the feet enough to rouse their owner. There I was, sleepwalking merrily towards the reception desk, which quite rightly startled the guy behind said desk and the dude who brought us our sandwiches two hours earlier.
I swiftly sloped into the lift, with the room service dude shouting "Hey, are you OK!" behind me. Arriving at my room, severely mortified, I proceeded to knock persistantly on the door for 3 minutes. Not quite loud enough to stir himself, but thunderous enough to irritate our fellow guests... Rather than draw further attention to my plight, I had no option but to go back downstairs to engage the two men who had already seen me in my (miniscule) nightie. Bursting from the lift, I mumbled "Hi,sleepwalking,happensinstrangeplaces.Ineedakeytogetbackintotheroom602please,thanks". This was met with very sympathetic peals of laughter... Key card in quivering hand, I padded back over to the lift, and that was when I noticed how I'd arrived downstairs - the stairs at the back of the foyer. I'd negotiated STAIRS! How in the name of jaysis was that managed?!
In short, the brain is mental. Apparently sleepwalking is "more commonly experienced in people with high levels of stress, anxiety or psychological factors." Had the shock of seeing the boyfriend sans trousers in front of 8,000 eyes pushed me over the edge? (Or rather the thought of being in a relationship with a potential stand-up comedian... they're fierce stable sorts) Unfortunately, no; this is the third time it's happened in three months. It's always in a strange place - which is helpful. I'm staying in another hotel this weekend and would love not to wake up on an exercise bike in the gym. All helpful hints welcome. Thank you.