Sunday, June 29, 2008

29/06/08 Bumble Bee Sighting Shock










We were supposed to be heading North this weekend but the weather forecast scared us off.
Instead on Saturday went for a walk round Holyrood Park to maintain the campaign to be a lean, mean fighting-machine in time for the Festival.
The first incident of note was seeing two young Japanese women using their mobile phones to excitedly film a bumblebee which was shuttling about from flower to flower, as is their wont.
I was immediately concerned about the lasting effect on the bumblebee of this level of interest.
He might assume that life is always like this, and may go on to suffer crushing disappointment in the future once the cameras have gone.
I remember having a storming first gig at "Red Raw", then being disappointed that I wasn't commissioned for a comedy series on Channel 4 on the following day.
I still haven't quite got over the desolation.
Once at the top, I was amused to see a hen party making its way slowly towards the summit.
They were all fairly on the large side, and the demeanor of many of them suggested that a defibrillator might be required at very short notice.
But, fair play to them, they all (eventually) made it to the top.
It made me feel quite smug about my own level of fitness.
I can confidently state that I am slightly fitter than the average morbidly-obese Hen Party member from Bolton.
It doesn't automatically qualify me for the Olympics, but it's a start.
Walking home, I passed a hairdresser in the Grassmarket called "The 3 Stooges".
I wouldn't have thought the coiffures of the Stooges were the best seeling point for a hairdresser, but maybe the "bowl cut"and the "premature balding out-of-control look" are due a fashion relaunch.
Traditionally, Haymarket is shit for shops and restaurants.
Things seemed to have changed though...
"Chop Chop" on Morrison Street is the best (and cheapest) Chinese restaurant I've ever been to (proper authentic stuff), and "Sushiya" on Dalry Road is the best sushi place in Edinburgh by a mile.
I've still got the world's worst Fish and Chip shop on my doorstep, but looks like we're moving in the right direction.
I want Spain to win tonight, but can't handle the "little Englander" anti-German sniping of Motty and Lawro...
at least a German victory would shut them up...but Spain are the better footballing side and should edge it.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

21/06/08 Quiet Night Out











I've just been watching "Football Focus".
Here we go...
Right, the presenter is situated in some kind of virtual Art Gallery.
It's a preview of tonight's Euro 2008 Quarter-Final between Holland and Russia...
Oh no..please god, no...they're not..?? Well, yes they are, you guessed it...repeated reference to the Netherlands as "Dutch Masters".
Geddit?
Aaaarrrggghhhh!
Why don't you show some imagination you lazy, cliche-ridden cunts..!
(ah! ....that's better...)
There's Mark Laurenson looking more and more like a Tudor thatched cottage every day.
Time to switch off the telly and do something more interesting instead.
I had a kicking gig at The Stand in Glasgow last night, and then watched Jason Rouse hilariously split the room.
It all went off at one point.
There was a bit of shouty stuff from a table of female teachers of a mature age.
The show carried on, but at one point one of the women stood up and walked onto the stage to remonstrate with Mr Rouse vis-a-vis his rather incendiary material.
A couple of staff rushed on the stage to escort her off, and the show continued.
It was one of these slow motion moments when you're not sure what is going to happen next.
It kind of encapsulates what I love about live stand-up comedy...this capacity for random unpredictability.
Quality...
As much as I loved his performance, I still end up watching about half of it through my fingers as my hands are clasped over my face.
Looking round at the audience, I'd say this style of watching him is very much de rigeur.
Part of me does feel slightly guilty about laughing.
I sometimes worry that being in comedy eventually makes you immune to being shocked or offended about anything.
I'm not sure if it is necesssarily a good thing to be desensitised in this way.
On the other hand, even if some of the material is horribly offensive, I can still admire the delivery, which is consistently excellent.
Although, I suppose I could say the same thing about other comedians that don't get away with it, so to speak.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

15/06/08 Mixed News









I had a good gig at The Stand last week, so the comedy mojo is making a steady recovery.
Unfortunately, my Bus driver application was rejected on the grounds that "plenty of crumpet!" was regarded as an "inappropriate" reason for wanting the job.
This blog may not have happened as I came within a couple of paces of walking over a cliff on a yomp in the Moffat Hills yesterday.
I didn't realise the edge was so close and it was 1500 ft down, which may have hurt a bit.
I'm doing next Friday night at The Stand in Glasgow with Jason Rouse headlining.
He is the wrongest comedian I've seen in a long time, but also hilarious.
I always enjoy watching comedians who split a room.
I decided recently to get revenge on someone who'd bullied me as achild, through the use of voodoo.
I made a little doll of him and stuck loads of needles into it, in the traditional fashion.
The results have been deeply disappointing though.
Not only is he still alive, but he's now stopped smoking and is likely to live even longer than he would have done before my intervention.
And, I've found this whole episode so stressful that I have started smoking again.

Sunday, June 08, 2008

08/06/08 So anyway...







After my best ever run of gigs, the last 3 have been absolute clunkers.
I don't even want to describe how bad they were in gory detail...Just take my word for it.
The gigs had been going so well...
It's like I've been previously driven around as part of a huge procession in an open-topped car, cheered on by adoring crowds, when all of a sudden there have been 3 shots at me, resulting in half my head getting blown off.
There were mitigating circumstances on each occasion, but still, a big fuck-off spanner has been lobbed into my confidence machinery.
I've got another gig tonight at The Stand.
Even though I will be desperate to have a good night, you have to be careful not to try too hard. Desperation isn't necessarily all that funny.
There was a curious bit of programming yesterday morning on STV.
I switched on the telly to be confronted with "Holiday On The Buses", a feature film version of the 70s sitcom "On The Buses".
I wondered what the typical Saturday morning viewers (10-14 year olds?) would make of this,cough, "film".
HOTB represents a strange, twilight world in which young, attractive women throw themselves at a fat, middle-aged bus driver("Stan") and his conductor mate ("Jack"), who has a face only a mother could love, (possibly could be mistaken for the Brazilian footballer Ronaldinho's gonzo uncle).
Stan's mother is also on holiday and is a bit of a goer, ending up shagging a character played by Wilfred Brambell, best known as "Old man Steptoe".
(I should point out that the shagging is merely alluded to, and is not graphically represented on screen)
Stan's sister Olive is there with her husband too.
Her husband spends the entire film calling her "a great lump", and routinely turns down her entreaties to have sex.
It's quality stuff, and provides a fascinating insight, for today's generation of young people, to how people lived in the 1970s.
I think the guy who played "Inspector Blakie" won an Oscar for Best Supporting Role.

Euro 2008 kicked off yesterday.
Normally I'm a big fan of "Opening Ceremonies", but it's fair to say this one was pants.
Turgid, unimaginative and with similar production standards to Port Seton Gala Day.
Could do better.
Hansen and Shearer came across a sullen teenagers ; showing very little enthusiasm for the tournament, just because no British teams were there.
Watching this tedious display, I felt happiness that the BBC have lost most of their football rights for next season.
Their setup has become too much of a smug gentlemen's club, and needs to be completely revamped.
Listen you twats...you're living the dream...you're travelling the world,getting to see all this top football, and getting paid loads of money (at our expense) to utter a few bored cliches about it.
The least we should expect as license fee payers is that you show a little enthusiasm in what you're doing.
It's bad for the tournament that the Swiss lost yesterday.
They were robbed.
They've now got a mountain to climb to qualify. (sorry)

Thursday, June 05, 2008

04/06/08 No Comedy For Old Men










This is the flyer for the award-entering “No Comedy For Old Men” comedy show which I will be appearing in during this year’s Fringe.
I am on the right and am assuming the Abe Lincoln role.
Purely by coincidence, I’d already intended incorporating extended sections of “The Gettysburg Address” into my routine, (just like Margaret Thatcher. In fact she released a record of herself reciting the said speech. Sadly it did not feature prominently in the higher reaches of the Hit Parade).
As well as stopping smoking for an impressive 150th time (although I did smoke 5 at the holiday weekend…but the overall stats are “5 in 18 days”), I’ve decided to permanently stop posting on Internet Comedy Forums.
I get agitated reading pompous posts of certainty when it comes to comedy matters, but then when I do post a retort…I immediately regret the post, finding myself disagreeing with my own logic (although I can’t be bothered to go in and edit the post or delete it)
I then worry about being thought of as a grumpy old git by the rest of the comedy community in Scotland.
I think it’s better to walk away and find something more productive to do with my spare time, (maybe something eccentric like writing better material…).
I’ve signed on for another 2 months of penal servitude (there’s a joke there somewhere), but will have the whole of August off to gad about at the Festival.
Tonight we are doing a preview show of all the acts appearing during the Fringe at “The Meridian Bar” on Leith walk.
My gut instinct is that the audience will be entirely composed of other acts (of which there are a lot), and that the evening’s merit as a promotional exercise will be debatable.
But never, mind, I don’t want to get negative on your asses, sisters and brothers.
It’ll be useful to check out the venue.
I’m still giddy with excitement at winning the “Eightsome Reel” trophy at the weekend with my esteemed golfing partner Brian “Beaky” Smith.
I now have an impressive claret jug sitting proudly on my mantelpiece.
I’m still slightly knackered though from playing 2 rounds in a day at Machrihanish Golf Course in Argyll, in what felt like 45 degrees temperature.
I played football last night in a manner reminiscent of Sir Douglas Bader (he having put on the wrong set of legs accidentally, after an embarrassing mix-up in the prosthetics ward).
A cunning “big con” was concocted on the 18th green to fool “Parky” and “Beaky” (nicknames were compulsory), that they had in fact been pipped at the post by our nearest rivals, messrs “Tony” and “Calum” (crap nicknames I thought)
We needed “Crabbie” and “Bilbo” (that’s more like it) to beat them, and we knew they were 1 Up as they headed down the 17th.
It turned out they won the 17th and took the match 2 & 1 ; however, a plot was hatched to take the game down the 18th in the pretence it was still “live”.
“Crabbie” and “Bilbo” hid decent drives, but then proceeded to hit a couple of “Charlie Cairoli” influenced approach shots as myself and Beaky looked on in mounting disbelief.
I turned to Beaky and quietly confided to him, “We’re fucked!”
“Tony” had 2 putts from 30 feet to salvage a draw for the match and take the overall trophy.
We worriedly looked on as he removed his tiny putter from his golf bag, which was made from an old smarties tube, and lined up the putt.
He sent the first putt 3 feet past, but, amidst excruciating tension, he sank the second putt to “take the trophy”.
It was only 2 hours later during the presentation ceremony that the stitch-up was revealed.
I was in awe of the execution and flawless acting of all the participants.
I would definitely have burst out giggling at some point in the proceedings.
I was concerned with my gullibility.
I was sure I’d seen them shaking hands on the 17th green (we were playing one hole ahead), but was easily dissuaded of this belief when I mentioned it to them.
But why else would all 4 players spontaneously converge onto a tight group on a green?
To do a little Scottish folk dance?
To have a group snog?
I'd be good on the Derren Brown show...very suggestible (ie a fuckwit)

"No Comedy For Old Men"
31st July - 16th Aug 2008
7pm
Meridian Bar
138 Leith Walk