I had a really nice gig last night in Torquie England, where I'm sitting right now.

After the gig, the promoter pulled me aside and he told me a really good story. I guess the cast of

Monty Python was once staying in a nearby hotel when they were filming the Holy Grail. And the

cast claimed that the owner of the hotel was a bit of a pain in the ass. He repeatedly criticized

Terry Gilliam's table manners and threw Eric Eiffle's briefcase out a window that he said there was a bomb in it

Which there wasn't.

The guy was such a nutcase that they ended up checking into a different hotel to get away from him and John Cleese said he was the most

Marvellously rude man I've ever met

He made such an impression on Cleese that he patterned his character in faulty towers after him.

And sadly the hotel was torn down last year. I took a walk this morning around Torquay,

the beautiful seaside town on the southwestern coast of England. I guess it's the home of Agatha

Christie she was raised here and might have lived all of her life, it appears.

I stumbled across this poison garden that was planted by Agatha Christie.

And it's the first time I've ever seen a cyanide plant face to face.

Hopefully I won't see too many of them.

But the tour started in London.

I had a sold-out show, just really, really fun gig.

So many nice people, so many people that came up and said that they enjoy this show and they

listen to it.

It's always great to meet you guys.

But earlier in the day I took a walk around, ended up at this old cemetery, and whenever

you hear stories of Victorian grave robbers, this is the cemetery that they're probably talking about.

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