Jim Park : The Blog

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2012-02-10T14:03:00.002Z

I'm now back in Edinburgh after my 3 month tour of duty in Portsmouth.
The first thing I noticed on my return was that the big plant pots outside my front door had been moved around.
I considered that there were two possibilities as to why this had occurred.
Either a kindly stranger had observed that my Feng Shui was a bit screwed up and had deigned to correct this, or, more likely, an opportunist crook was looking to see if a key had been concealed somewhere.
From what I gather there have been a few prowler incidents in the 'hood.
It made me feel a bit of an arse for putting updates on Facebook to the effect that I was working away from home in Portsmouth.
This may have had nothing to do with the incident, but it made me ponder on the wisdom of talking shite on the internet in relation to your movements .
So anyway, hear this, you crooks and ne-er-do-wells...I am NEVER leaving Edinburgh again...

I've also been getting pissed off with all the flack Billy Connolly has been getting for the heckler incident.
Most reports neglect to mention that he'd already been on stage for approximately 2 hours, and had just ended the show abruptly, rather than doing a Roy "Chubby" Brown...ie being heckled then walking off at a gig in Glasgow when he'd only been onstage for about 5 minutes.
I've been enjoying the "Late'n'Live" show on BBC1, although at the same time it does slightly glorify the act of heckling.
I know that it tries to take a balanced view, and has comedians describing how idiotic heckling can ruin what could potentially have been a great show...but you just know that a certain number of twats will watch and take this show as a validation of their annoyingly crass behaviour at comedy clubs.
I totally sympathise with Connolly's exasperation.
I remember going to see Chris Rock at The Edinburgh Playhouse, and having to stand up every 2 minutes throughout the whole show to let people get past...either to go to the toilet or go to the bar.
It seems that no-one can just sit and watch a performance these days without drinking or taking pictures on their mobiles.

Anyway, was supposed to be writing some "good" and "bad" stuff for a podcast.
I'd thought of referencing an experience I had in Arrequipa in Peru with 3 of my friends.
It was a Sunday afternoon, and we decided just to go our separate ways for a couple of hours and meet up later.
When we met up, my 3 friends were sitting ashen-faced and obviously upset.
It turned out that they'd all been subjected to a "choke mugging" in three separate incidents.
This basically involved, a gang coming up behind them, and then being grabbed round the neck by one of the gang, and held in a head lock until they passed out due to lack of oxygen.
They were unconscious for less than a minute apparently, but this was enough time to rifle through their belongings and grab any cameras, cash etc that they were carrying.
Of course, I thought this was all a big wind-up at first...but their demeanour indicated otherwise.
I was just glad that they all seemed ok, and that what they had had stolen was not too disastrous.
Of course, I initially felt relieved that I had not been targeted as well.
However, I began to ponder why I was the only one who was not considered worthy of a "choke mugging".
Had my natural scruffiness and tramp-like holiday sartorial elegance come to my aid?
I couldn't understand it...especially as I alone had visited the dodgiest part of town.
I also had a tinge of regret, that my friends now had a killer after-dinner anecdote from the trip.
This is all a mixture of "good" and "bad" really...neither one or the other.

Anyway, we went ot the police and were surprised to find out that the police are generally not working on Sunday afternoons.
So it turns out that obvious tourists walking around Arrequipa on a Sunday afternoon are like hens being guest speakers at a foxes convention.
Thankfully, I was later involved in an terrifying extortion incident with the Colombian Military Police, and did get my anecdote in the end, but that's another story.

Flying high!

2012-01-05T21:30:00.001Z

I was quite surprised when the announcement came through to board my flight to Southampton from Edinburgh Airport on Tuesday morning.
It was all beginning to get a bit hurricanish outside, and I'd more or less convinced myself that I was going nowhere.
Then el capitano announced that the flight was likely to be "a bit bumpy".
Shortly after this slightly unsettling news, a male passenger decided that he didn't want to fly any more and disembarked.
I can now understand why deserting in the face of the enemy is viewed as such a serious military offence.
It IS very bad for the morale of those left behind.
I'm sure I wasn't the only person imagining this man being interviewed on television later that day answering questions such as,
"So Mr Custard, what made you suddenly decide to leave the doomed flight shortly before taking off into gale force winds?"
Although, on reflection, it probably was only me that was thinking this, as I have quite a warped imagination.
His action just seemed wrong though.
Surely one of the flight attendants could have forced him to sit down and then slapped him hard across the face.
I paid a bit more attention to the safety demonstration than usual.
It was a horrible flight...like being trapped in a cocktail shaker for an hour and a half.
I wondered if I might make it on to the front page of "Chortle"?
Probably not.
I particularly disliked the take-off as we were swaying violently from side to side on the runway before getting off the ground.
I was reassured to notice that a baby was on board.
Everything was going to be ok.
Helpfully, the baby seemed to find the worst turbulence moments hilarious.
Southampton has never looked so (relatively) beautiful as we landed (after some impressive aeronautics on approach).
I kneeled down to kiss the tarmac in classic John Paul II style, and then got a bit of a surprise when a flight attendant
pretended to kick me on the arse and told me to get into the terminal.
And we all lived happy ever after.

2012

2012-01-02T16:44:00.004Z

So anyway, for me, the funniest moment of the Festive season occurred when my brother brought my sister a cup of tea, and on presentation of the aforementioned hot beverage, inquired "Is that too much milk for you?".
My sister replied "yes".
Cue a hilarious look of resignation on my brother's face as he turned around to take the cup back to the kitchen, in the knowledge that he would have to make another cup.
It was the most fantastic, non-verbal "Oh, for fuck's sake!" I have ever witnessed.
A truly beautiful moment, and one which ,for me, captures the true meaning of Christmas.
In situations like this, one should follow the lawyers' rule of thumb, ie never ask anyone a question that you don't already know the answer to.
My brother also gave me the idea for a film.
We were all having dinner, and the other five people had been struggling for a couple of hours to get a word in.
This prompted me to suggest the idea of a film called "Talk".
It would be inspired by the Sandra Bullock film "Speed", except in this case there would be a bomb under a dinner table which would go off if there was ever a one second gap in the conversation.
My brother could play the film's hero, by talking continuously without stopping to take a breath, for 14 hours, at which point the police bomb specialist manages to disable the device.
I also had an argument with a confidence trickster in Juniper Green over whose round it was in a pub.
(This is an annual event..it's a beer nativity play)
I was lucky this year, and narrowly managed to escape by just paying for the same number of beers that I'd consumed.
And, yes I am "Ebenezer Scrooge".
He was livid!
Tomorrow, I am heading back down to sunny Portsmouth, to resume my hard labour custodial sentence.
I've managed to get out of B&B purgatory and now stay in a lovely house with two amazing people,
(I have to be careful...they might read this).
I've been pretty sober for most of this Festive time, having been slightly put off Mr Booze, by an ill-advised cider frenzy
(on an empty stomach) with some work colleagues before Xmas.
The following day brought the worst hangover I've ever experienced since I drank a whole bottle of advocaat when i was 14,
(the yellow bottle still strikes fear into my soul when I see it).
This day was rounded off with a severely turbulent flight back to Edinburgh.
Cruel and unusual punishment does not begin to describe it.
Happy New Year!

Read All About IT

2011-11-03T19:31:00.004Z

Last Friday got off to an inauspicious start.
My trusty old Ford Mondeo broke down on the M8 and was later officially pronounced dead by a mechanic.
Unlike many people, I'm not a big fan of hanging out on the hard shoulder of a busy motorway.
The RAC man who came and towed me away told me that the organisation lose a man every year on hard shoulder recoveries.
You just want to get the hell out of there as quick as possible.
It's the general speed, your proximity to the vehicles, the mental tailgating which goes on and the fact that the drivers tend to look at you as they drive past rather than the road ahead of them.
It all fosters the fear that you could be inadvertently caught up in a big pile-up.
Nasty.
Then there was the gig in Glasgow.
Boom boom...good start...but then one of the front tables started shouting out comments to everything I said.
I tried to engage with them to shut them up.
I asked one woman what her favourite packet of crisps were as part of a funny joke thing.
She said "salt and vinegar" and I said "ah, "prawn cocktail", interesting you should say that...!"
Of course, I deliberately misquoted her for an intended comic effect.
It's the kind of thing that people who do stand-up comedy do.
The technical term is "fucking about".
Most people go with that,..
Not this lot...she and her friends kept shouting indignantly "She didn't say that! She didn't say that!"
It's weird because paralytically pissed post-menopausal women are very much my target demographic.
(check that impressive alliteration, huih?)
But not tonight.
I battled away, but it got to the stage that the venue staff had to intervene and escort one of them away from the table and out the room.
Of course, it's difficult to hold the audience's attention when everyone is rubbernecking the spontaneous drama of a shouty drunk woman being led out the room by security.
You can't compete with that.
My other shock was when a frankly idiotic routine advocating "votes for voles" (as well as all other animals) was deemed hugely offensive by another couple of tables.
It was an unexpected Sadowitz/Hicks moment in my comedy career.
I'm pleased to say that I finished reasonably strongly, but I knew that in spite of this I'd been sabotaged by the shouty ladies of old Glasgow toon.
I've gigged all over Britain, but it's always Glasgow that delivers gigs like this for me.
(although also some of the best as well)
I don't really understand it....
I'M FROM GLASGOW...I GREW UP THERE...THE GLASGOW HUMOUR IS IN MY FUCKING DNA
IT'S MY HOMETOWN GIG..WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO ME YOU BASTARDS??????
ARE YOU STILL ANGRY AT ME FOR LEAVING YOU TO LIVE IN EDINBURGH WHEN I WAS 8 YEARS OLD???
GET OVER IT!
I still love you though (blush).
I BELONG TO GLASGOW.
..and I still had fun at the gig though...it was just disappointing because I wanted to impress the management.
Jeezo...
Never mind.
On a more positive note, hats off to Helen Bywater and her fantastic new "Another Fine Mess" comedy club in Edinburgh last Sunday.
Great room, great crowd...a hugely enjoyable gig and the my battered old comedy mojo is back...oh yeah!
Down in Portsmouth, I've been ill all week.
I caught a bug on the plane on Monday morning...just felt my throat starting to get croaky.
Of course, I am a freelance worker which means I am never ill no matter how ill I am...it's been a rough few days.
I've been living in Hayling Island this week.
I don't want to seem uncharitable, but it can sink into the sea as far as I am concerned.
I think I'm going to try and live in the centre of Portsmouth to see how I get on there.
I'm going to see a room for rent above a "Dog Fighting Club" tonight (joke).
Rent seems reasonable...but I'll see what I think.
The work is good though...my IT work is storming it every day. so there.

On Tour

2011-10-24T18:20:00.004+01:00

So anyway, the hotel is a bit grotty...not horrendous but I shall be vacating it shortly and seeking alternative options.
My room is basically a low-budget version of Gaddafi's drainpipe hideout.
The owner bears a striking resemblance to renowned serial killer Dennis Nilsen.
I won't name the hotel until I've left in case he really is Dennis Nilsen.
I wouldn't want to upset him whilst I'm a resident here.
"Will you be out after 11.30?" he asked me, in a tone that suggested doing so would put him to enormous inconvenience...
"We don't have a night porter, so we'd need to make special arrangements if you were".
Thankfully, I can't think of any reason to be out after 11.30pm in Havant.
"Will you be dining in the restaurant during your stay? I'd recommend booking..."
Now I'd say, that the restaurant can accommodate 200 people, and I've only seen one table being occupied in the last three nights, so perhaps the warning about the need to book in advance is slightly overstated.
I went out briefly last night for a quick pint.
I tried two pubs, but on both occasions walked in, then did that "pretending you're looking for someone thing" and immediately walked backed out again.
Incredibly rough pubs...
"The 6 Bells" in particular was one of the weirdest pubs I've ever been in...a lot of people shouting at each other for no apparent reason.
It really reminded me of the pub featured in the last episode of "The Boys From The Blackstuff".
The bar that really fascinates me is "The White Hart" which has had a grand total of zero customers in the several times I've walked past it in the last 3 days.
It's not even open tonight!
In other news, I had a very enjoyable weekend of gigs at the Edinburgh Stand last week.
The previous week, I had a slightly less triumphant gig at the Frog and Bucket in Preston.
I kind of forgot that there was a "gong" element to the gig, and fooled around with my notes on the clipboard before I got going.
I made it half-way through the first joke, and oh fuck bloody shit, I was gonged off.
I don't think I even made a minute.
Oh dear...
I never even noticed any cards going up.
If I was going to compare this gig to an historic event, it would be the assassination of JFK.
I never saw it coming...
Too bad as I had written some hilarious observations about Preston based on my afternoon there.
I headed to Manchester after the gig to help my brother prune his wine cellar.
In spite of everything, I love the way that stand-up comedy is always capable of severely punishing any hint of complacency.
Bastards....
The folk where I'm working for a few weeks are very friendly and good fun, so that's good.
Tired though...

Nights drawing In etc

2011-09-22T21:25:00.005+01:00

Ted the Cat had a traumatic afternoon today.
The trip to the vet is never one of his favourite experiences at the best of times, but this one was especially upsetting due to an enormous rottweiler unexpectedly bounding up to his catbox window and loudly barking in his face.
A comparable human experience might be a T. Rex sticking its head in your living room and roaring in your face while you are watching "Deal Or No Deal", (I don't actually watch "Deal Or No Deal").
The rottweiler became the third dog that he had to share the waiting room with.
When I got back home and released him, he really did seem to give me a look that said "What the fuck are you trying to do to me, you stupid bastard!".
It was writ large on his face.
I tried out some new jokes at Red Raw this week.
You tend to get advised to slip new bits of material in between "bankers" when you try them out, but I think you have to really expose them on their own to get an accurate impression of whether they have any future.
I started off with some old stuff...it was going down a storm..big laughs, applause breaks...and then I told 3 clunkers in a row.
I'd lost them...
It's fascinating, that no matter how well a gig is going, you can just lose the audience belief in an instant.
I did some old stuff to finish up with, but couldn't get the reaction back up to the level it was at the start.
It was as if I was a juggler and dropped my balls (steady...) half way though my act, and even though I did some reasonably impressive tricks at the end, all they could think of was that messy bit in the middle.
Or maybe like kids watching a magician saw a lady in half, when the front panel of the box falls off, revealing a woman in each half of the box to the audience (sorry "Magic Circle").
No matter what magic trick he's does after that, the spell for the kids is catastrophically broken.
I like this though...it makes it all interesting, and that's why testing big chunks of new material is always a slightly nervy experience for your common-or-garden stand-up comedy person.
The next night I was flattered to be asked to take part in "Breaking News" at The Stand in the highly esteemed company of Vladimir McTavish, Sian Bevan, Keir McAllister & Mark Nelson.
As the title of the show suggests it's a topical-based show, with rounds involving making up headlines, odd one out, what do they all have in common, putting forward a motion.
I had a few awkward moments, particularly during the "odd one out" pictures round, where my inane remarks created some classic tumbleweed audience reactions.
Luckily, everyone else was hilarious for this bit.
I fared better in the individual stand-up bits, and also in presenting my motion "Animals Should Be Allowed To Vote".
I have to admit I was bricking it bigtime on the day of this show...but it's a great learning experience to get out of your comfort zone.
In other news, I managed to win the "Stirling University Old Boys Golf Championship" at the weekend in Milnathort.
This was no mean feat, as amongst the field were such golfing giants as Richard Arnott, Billy Wilson and Alastair Johnson.
(The Big Three)
This was probably my greatest achievement of the whole weekend.
The major talking point amongst my Stirling buddies was when I described the Ipad as "an awesome piece of kit".
As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had made a terrible, terrible error.
I will never hear the end of this.
Why didn't I just say "it was a reasonably impressive gadget".
Twat.

Good grief!

2011-09-08T19:38:00.005+01:00

As I suspect many of my fellow countrypeople did, I found watching Scotland v Czech Republic an extremely painful experience.
We are brilliant at finding new ways to embrace failure. It's almost impressive.
The aspect of the game which led to the most inane shouts from me at the television was the fashion in which we played when we regained the lead with 7 minutes to go.
There was no composure, a complete inability to retain any semblance of control and some utterly brainless decision making.
It reminded me of my recent gig in Uddingston.
I got particularly animated when the Czechs punted a long hopeful ball from their own half which was heading out for a goal kick.
However, rather than let it run out and use up some of the dwindling remaining time, our keeper stopped the ball before it crossed the line and then kept play going.
I just can't imagine any other team doing that.
It wasn't the streetwise, canny thing to do.
When will we learn.
A production of "Macbeth" I saw during the Fringe was a light-hearted romp compared with this torture.
The penalty was no surprise...a dive yes...but a leg was stuck out and that's just asking for trouble.
It's the footballing equivalent to sticking your head out of a train window.
The referee was demonised, but overall I thought he had a decent game and was very lenient to Scotland on a few occasions, with his interpretation of some of our more "enthusiastic" tackles.
At one point in the game, the camera zoomed in to a Scotland player.
"Who is "Roam" I said "I've never heard of him."
I was in a pub, and unfortunately was operating in speaker mode rather than just thinking this to myself.
It turned out it was "Adam", admittedly in quite an unusual font.
This precipitated an hour of Jim baiting.
My eyesight is sadly failing.
I decided not to watch Scotland v Lithuania, thus ensuring a narrow victory for the Scots.
I think we're out though.
And yes, I know this is one of the latest match reports ever.
It does look like the IT Contracting market for me is over...it's been flatlining for 6 months.
I'm not getting enough comedy gigs to live off so it's time to diversify.
I know people who used to do the same job as me and are now working in call centres.
Fair play to them, but I think I would finally go completely insane if I was to try that.
So instead it's painting and decorating, comedy, gardening (business cards being delivered tomorrow), low class escorting,
football betting and car boot sales for me.
It's actually quite an interesting experiment to try and live entirely off your wits rather than working for the man.

and now for something very similar...

2011-08-15T14:30:00.002+01:00

So anyway, I'm not one to walk out of a show unless the circumstances are particularly extreme, but I have to confess I only lasted 10 minutes in a lunchtime play today.
Luckily, I was sitting right next to the exit and was able to discretely leave the room.
It was very painful viewing and the thought of spending an hour of my life watching it to completion was too much for me to bear.
My "go to see other stuff apart from comedy for a change" policy is hitting quite a lot of turbulence.
I'm going to see "King Lear" tomorrow, performed in Mandarin with subtitles.
THAT'S a proper Edinburgh Festival show.
In other news, I've found myself in the front row of comedy gigs in the past few days, not by design, but because these
were the only seats available.
And boy, I've been getting dogs abuse from the performers.
I have to admit, I've not really enjoyed it... quite vitriolic stuff.
And yes, that does make me sound a big hypocrite, I know...although, in fairness, any contact I have with the audience is generally inoffensive, knockabout banter rather than personal abuse.
I've never been a fan of aggressive compering..I can't really be bothered with it anymore.
It's fair enough if someone is being an annoying twat, but other than that it's tedious stuff.
The most recent one was a female questioning my ability to get laid during the Fringe. Outrageous.
I took comfort from the fact that whilst the profile photo on her Twitter page makes her look like a young Kate Bush ; in real life she bears more than a passing resemblance to Bella Emberg, best known for her "Blunder Woman" character, in the "Russ Abbott's Madhouse" tv show.
She was very funny though...see, I'm not bitter or anything like that.
I spent yesterday evening playing drums with legendary Samba/Punk combo "Bloco Vomit". Hugely enjoyable.
And tonight I will be seeing the legend that is Neil Hamburger. Oh yes.

more Fringe stuff

2011-08-11T22:11:00.005+01:00

So anyway, I went to see American comic W. Kamau Bell, good , entertaining, thought-provoking stand-up.
I didn't agree with everything he said, but I don't ever really expect to agree with everything a comedian says.
It's interesting watching an American comedian get to grips with a typical Fringe audience though.
I suspect they're generally quieter than your typical US club audience, and you could see it was taking him a little while to get used to our slightly more passive nature.
Edward Aczel's pre-show music included "South American Getaway" from "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", so he had me onside well before he made his shambling entry on to the stage.
This is anti-comedy at its most inaccessible, and I love it.
It was a pretty tough gig for him though, as the majority of the audience didn't seem to know what was going on and watched in bemused silence, whereas I was reaching for my inhaler.
I then went to see a play about a comedy double act.
Again, I realised within 30 seconds that I wasn't going to enjoy it.
Of the double act itself, one of the actors was very good, but the other one wasn't.
To successfully portray a top comedy double act, you have to capture the magical chemistry between the two comedians which makes the act work.
There's not a second in this play where you feel that, so the whole piece is torpedoed below the water line.
I've done a fair bit of shit acting in my life, so feel qualified to notice it.
It mainly involves thinking about your next line and when you're going to say it, rather than giving the impression of "listening" and then reacting naturally to your feed line.
I was notorious for this, and it produces that distinctive wooden acting, which we all know and love.
A pity, because I find the dynamics of double-acts fascinating, and was looking forward to this play.
Next it was on to Michael Legge's hilarious one man show on Sir Walter Raleigh.
Top notch stuff, and even though I was familiar with most of the material through reading his blog, he performs with such great gusto that I'm roaring with laughter anyway.
Just before his show I walked past a group of obvious Fringe performers having an impromptu pavement meeting.
I heard one say "Yes, that TOTALLY changes the whole dynamic of the scene."
Now, what I reckon has happened here is that the first few performances of their play have been absolutely disastrous, but they've now agreed that by getting one of the characters to wear a hat in a scene, and also drop one of his lines ; the play will be saved!

It's that time again...

2011-08-10T15:42:00.002+01:00

So anyway, rather than the usual pre-Fringe week of panic and trauma arguing about show format, and fretting about box office sales, I spent a relaxing week in sunny Spain.
I'm now back and am without a show for this year's Fringe...I can't say I'm too bothered about that...it'll be the first time in 6 years, I'll be experiencing the event purely as a punter.
My first day got off to an inauspicious start when I stuck a cotton bud in my ear, compacting wax and rendering me completely deaf in that ear.
I know that medical advice is overwhelmingly in favour of not sticking cotton buds in your ear, but I like it too much, and just accept the risk that this sort of outcome occasionally happens.
It's very disorientating, and seems to affect my balance.
Thanks to Boots almond oil though, I was quickly cured and rejoiced in the restoration of my hearing.
It was like getting out of prison (I imagine)...ear majesty's prison? ha ha ...oh fuck off, I don't care any more.
My first Fringe thing that I noticed was my that upstairs neighbour has failed to let out his flat for the festival ("to let" sign still on window).
This is unprecedented, (that means it's never happened before).
Usually I can hear lots of excitable drama students shouting "OMG" at the top of their voices, as their Fringe experience begins.
It's like seeing sheep high 5 other sheep as they arrive at the abattoir.
Like relaxing in a jacuzzi until the first one star review catastrophically diverts the untreated sewage pipe into it.
I walked down my street and noticed that all the little hotels had the "vacancies" sign up.
Again this is unusual, and I wondered if Fringe visitor numbers are down this year.
I've been having this recurring dream in which I'm in the audience of a comedy club.
A comedian leaps onstage saying "I know what you're thinking...!".
I then stand up and blow his head off with a single shot from a bazooka gun.
I've had this dream analysed by experts, and as a result have been advised to take a short break from the comedy scene.
Cocking a snook at stand-up comedy, I went to see "Ed Reardon : A Writer's Burden" at the Pleasance.
The audience enjoyed it, but it wasn't my cup of tea.
I was expecting something a bit darker, but it was more a Terry Scott style, buffoonery characterisation.
I must try to do a bit more research before I part with my precious cash.
Liam Mullone's show "Down To The Bone" was great, and I'll be surprised if I see a more impressive hour of stand-up this Fringe.
I had an idea of doing a paid ticket show next year and then doing a collection at the end as well, hoping that a reasonable percentage of the audience will forget that they've already paid for this show.
It's the same principal as restaurants having a "gratuity" option on their card machines even though service is already included in the bill.

HP Sauce

2011-07-21T14:42:00.002+01:00

The title refers to the gratuitous shots of Hermione Granger's cleavage in the latest, and last, Harry Potter film, "The Deathly Hallows Part 2".
I've only ever seen the the first Harry Potter film, so I thought I'd symbolically repeat my 2001 cinema visit and see the last one in the series.
I was banking on an update at the start of the film to explain what had happened, but sadly, it was not forthcoming.
There then followed a very confusing couple of hours for yours truly.
At the start of the film Harry was in attendance at a grave, so I managed to work out that someone must have been killed in the first part (I should get a job in the Metropolitan Police with skills like this).
I was touched that the cinema chose to mark my 10th anniversary of Potter watching by selling sweets in the pick'n'mix which were first put on display in 2001.
I'm pretty sure that spending extended periods of time being confused and eating foosty jelly beans is valuable preparation for the experience of being moved into an old folks home.
I always look for the positives in any situation.
I still enjoyed the film, and it was the first time I've been to one of the modern era 3D films.
The pre-film 3D adverts worked the best, but in general the effect is very impressive...although it probably doesn't justify the huge premium on the ticket price.
I couldn't help thinking what lucky bastards the 3 actors who play the central characters are.
They're 21, and are multi-millionaires...and can do jack shit for the rest of their lives.
I don't begrudge them the cash at all...I just find it funny that the level of acting required from them is so slight for such enormous reward.
Harry delivers the majority of his lines in a fairly deadpan, competent manner, whilst the other 2 spend most of the film perfecting their concerned, anxious look.
There's no real character development from their initial blueprint.
Fair play to them though..take the cash...I certainly would.
The highlight of the film for me was the impeccable comic timing of Dame Maggie Smith. Legend.
I'm wearing my 3D glasses all the time now, and the effect is quite remarkable.
They're quite flattering as well.

Olympics Preview

2011-06-22T11:50:00.003+01:00

So anyway, the good news is that I am NOT pregnant after all.
I’m quite relieved about this as I was worried about taking responsibility for a child when I am not currently working (all that much).
I did some research and it turns out that the cider I’d started regularly consuming contains an additional 50 calories per pint in comparison to my normal tipple of lager.
That explains everything.
Goodbye cider…you’re dumped.
It’s not you..it’s me.
I didn’t apply for any Olympic tickets, principally because the Olympics are rubbish.
Rubbish? Why?
I’ll tell you why.
First of all, I can’t stand the swimming events due to a childhood trauma.
Aged 10, I qualified for the 50m breaststroke in the West Lothian Swimming Championships.
This sounds mildly impressive, but there weren’t very many good swimmers in my Primary 6 class in South Queensferry Primary School, and just having the ability to swim at all made me a hot favourite to secure a place in the glittering final held in Bathgate, the jewel in West Lothian’s crown.
The deafening cacophony of hundreds of schoolchildren screaming their partisan support in the pool complex was terrifying to a sensitive young boy like me.
The race itself is now a blur, but I remember clearly that everyone else had finished the 2 lengths of the race before I had completed my first length.
That solo length of shame was the most humiliating experience of my life (up till that point…it doesn’t even make the Top 10 now.).
The final indignity was one of the officials shouting at me to hurry up as he wanted to start the next race.
Hopefully these days they have a minimum qualifying time to achieve before you are allowed to compete in the final.
But let me borrow your DVD of “Great Swimming Races” and I might change my mind about the whole thing.
What? You don’t have one..? I didn’t think so….
Ok, that was quite a convoluted reason for disliking swimming competitions…I’ll keep the others succinct.
The javelin?
You see someone throw it, then you see what could be the same stock footage, which has been used for the last 20 Olympics , of a javelin flying through the air and landing.
Dull.
Do you have a “Great Javelin Throws” DVD? No, I didn’t think so…
Table tennis?
Now I actually quite like this sport, but the constant accompaniment of squeaking footwear renders it completely unwatchable.
Badminton and Squash also fall victim to the aforementioned “squeak syndrome”.
Judo?
A scuffle outside a pub on a Saturday night is much more entertaining, (and easier to judge)
Do you have a “Great Judo Fights” DVD? No, I didn’t think so…

Basketball?
Too easy to score.
It’s like playing golf with a hole the size of a dustbin lid. I’m not going to extend this metaphor.

3000m Steeplechase.
The most ludicrous event of the whole Games.
A water jump? Why?
Do you have a “Great Steeplechase Races” DVD? No, I didn’t think so…

Marathon?
Would be more entertaining if fancy dress was compulsory.

Tennis?
if it’s in the Olympics, which it shouldn’t really be anyway, it should have to adhere to “Jim’s Rules”, ie you only get one serve and you only get to sit down and eat a banana after you’ve you’ve played a set.
It’s ridiculous that you have these poor bastards running 26 miles without stopping in one event while you have the pampered tennis players sitting down every five minutes to have a rest and some elevenses….

To be continued….

The Land of Concrete Cows

2011-06-12T17:10:00.003+01:00

So anyway, there's a possibility of contract work, but it's in Milton Keynes.
Ok Milton Keynes isn't exactly Barcelona...I know that.
However, I won't be able to turn it down if I get offered it, as I need to do something to reverse the exlusively outward movement of cash from Jim Park Inc.
They've got concrete cows there and everything.
It would probably be a positive thing for the comedy angle though..more clubs..more possibilities...
Talking of comedy, I had a blast at the "Jo Caulfield Comedy Collective" night at The Stand...and good to see a big crowd along for the first night.
Other news...Aberdeen has a rival for the title of "World's Worst Fish And Chip Shop".
I thought the one round the corner from me was way out on its own, but I was shocked and stunned to find out that it has a north-east rival.
Microwaving items which had been already deep-fried, was certainly an unusual touch, and the batter on my fish was approximately an inch thick.
I don't know what surprised me more...was it seeing a deep fried king rib (haven't seen one for ages), or was it seeing one of my party order it.
I was up there playing terrible golf on fantastic golf courses.
I'd compare it to hiring a vintage Les Paul guitar for the weekend and spending the allotted time playing "3 Blind Mice" (badly) on the fucking E string.
I lost all 3 matches for the third year running.
I can't believe I was seriously thinking of turning pro 4 years ago.
What happened?
In other news, I bought 4 new wheel covers for my car, and was down to 3 within one day.
This almost reduced me to tears, but not quite.
Milton Keynes.
It's not the end of the world.
The money's good?

Good Afternoon

2011-05-26T16:51:00.003+01:00

I thought I'd rip off the "Do Not Resuscitate" notice from the end of my blog's bed and write a new entry.
So anyway, I was in Ireland last weekend for the glorious wedding of Padraig & Muireann.
I've known Padraig for 6 years since he beat off opposition to win a role in the acclaimed 2005 Fringe show, "Park's Circus".
There may only have been one other applicant, (who, I was advised by a number of independent sources, was a complete cnut), but this should in no way detract from Padraig's achievement in convincing Tony and I that he was the man for the show ; and what an asset he was.
The weekend got off to a difficult start as I couldn't find my wallet.
I decided to go to the airport anyway, resigning myself to reinforcing Scottish stereotypes by borrowing hundreds of pounds off other people at the wedding.
My last hope was that I'd left it in my local shop...and it turns out that I had (even though I gave a ludicrously wrong description of its appearance to the shop assistant).
No free drinks or food on the plane though ...and 2.5 euros for a cup of tea with the dreaded UHT milk...scandalous.
The wedding was great...Muireann was beautiful...Padraig was just about but not quite as beautiful...the sun shone...there was a tsunami of champagne and guinness...hilarious speeches...songs...dancing...fantastic food.
In Ireland they adhere to the "If it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing" mentality, and the next day there was the Day 2 party.
We had an eclectic mix singers, musicians, dancers...funny comedians and also me talking about kissing hen's arseholes and stuff like that. (I kept on repeating "I don't know if this is appropriate" through my set)
I hardly saw anyone smoking all weekend ; I seem to remember a lot of weddings I've attended as smoking festivals.
I remember as a smoker, smoking more than I usually did, and then also seeing people who didn't usually smoke at all just deciding to have a couple of ciggies since it was a wedding.
It really does seem to be on the way out...and as I approach my 4th month of abstinence, I think I've finally beaten the addiction.
I'm currently in the Filmhouse Bar trying to write jokes for my appearance in the inaugural "Jo Caulfield's Comedy Collective" show which starts at the Edinburgh Stand on Wed 1st June.
I'm really looking forward to it...it's going to be a bit different.
There's a man called "Hugh Carr" on his mobile phone in here...it's like some Shakespearian actor appearing on stage...his voice booming round the bar...everybody has stopped talking and are craning their heads to check who this Foghorn Leghorn personification is.
In some ways I admire his dedication to the art of lack of self-awareness....
As I said earlier, if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing.
The gigs are going well but there's not enough of them and sorties down to England are very expensive for the journeyman stand-up...what to do...what to do?
I'm also working on a show about Golf...hopefully giving it some runouts during the Fringe.

Here Comes The Summer

2011-03-26T14:06:00.005Z

So anyway, I had a bit of a health scare 3 weeks ago.
It turns out I'm completely fine and I came through my medical MOT last Wednesday with flying colours.
I can't help wondering whether I would have made it onto the front page of "Chortle".
Probably not...it would have to have been a relatively slow news day in the world of comedy.
Obviously I'm glad that I didn't of course..
One of the benefits of having a health scare is that it panics you into making big lifestyle changes that you are
likely to keep.
I didn't drink for 3 weeks...ate incredibly healthily...charged up mountains and all that kind of thing.
I've lost a stone and feel fitter than I have done for ages.
I haven't smoked for 3 months either.
It's interesting how quickly my alcohol tolerance has now deserted me.
To celebrate my medical news, I went to Chris's birthday drinks at the Stand on Thursday.
I had 4 pints and was absolutely out my face, talking slurred shite to all and sundry.
I can't even remember what I was talking about most of the time.
I'm now on my way to Manchester to visit my wacky brother.
I've managed to get a couple of gigs to coincide with my trip.
I've got a spot tonight at the "Lass O Gowrie" comedy night, and another tomorrow night on Toby Hadoke's "New Stuff" night at the Comedy Store.
I've done a couple of Red Raws in the last month trying out some new ideas.
It's nervy doing a whole set of untested stuff, but I reckon it's the only way to really check if it works.
Bookends new bits with bankers doesn't quite expose it to the uncomfortable glare of reality.
Although, in saying that, if doing hundreds of gigs has taught me one thing, it's to shamelessly mug my idiotic stage persona to milk laughs out of the most crap and awful pieces of material.
It's a survival strategy learnt from dying spectacularly on one's hole of an evening's comedying.
And of course, Red Raw is primarily a new act night, so it's generally a fairly sympathetic audience.

After my (cough) "performance" , quite a few people came up to my afterwards to say how much they enjoyed the show, prompting the hard-bitten comedians present to laugh and kindly inform me, that all these people were assuming that my ramshackle nonsense was my first ever gig.
I couldn't really argue against this.
But hey, a laugh is a laugh.
I then came under a sustained micky take form these aforementioned comedians, which I genuinely found highly amusing.
However, in a scene reminscent of Muhammad Ali bouncing off the ropes to knock out George Foreman and reclaim the World Heavyweight title in 1974, I began to return fire.
I have to say that for one comic, the teddy was thrown out the pram with such ferocity that it had to be admitted to the Edinburgh Rpyal Infirmary with severe concussion.
I think it's hilarious that in a profession in which "taking the piss" is such a fundemental aspect, some comedy people can be very touchy.
In case you're interested, my new material subjects covered were ; Norman Wisdom's gravestone, being mistaken for a waxwork dummy, imaging the volcano supporting Edinburgh Castle erupting during the Festival Fireworks Concert, and talking sheep in Peebles.

London trip

2011-02-07T21:41:00.010Z

As I headed down to London on the train from Edinburgh, on two occasions I spontaneously burst out laughing while reading the paper.
I find that when you do this, you can sense the other people in the carriage are putting you on a period of "nutter watch" ; as lone laughers can be unsettling.
The bits that got me going were....
An article in the Guardian on Simon Pegg in which he references political correctness in the 1980s, recalling an anecdote about someone getting fired from a feminist theatre company for saying "Shall I be mother?" when they were pouring the tea.
The other guffaw was caused by the "Q&A" feature on Patrick Stewart.
When asked "What was your most embarrassing moment?".
He mentions shouting out "What trumpets that?" too early (a page too early to be precise) during a speech Eric Porter was making in the role of King Lear in a production staged in Cornwall.
Porter was just pausing.
The kicker is that Stewart did the same thing on two consecutive nights.
I kind of had a giggling fit imagining the look on Eric Porter's face when it happened a second time.
I remember him as a very stern, brooding actor...(certainly, most of the characters he played fitted this description).
Apparently he never forgave Stewart for this.
No matter what line Patrick shouted out, this was still going to be a funny story.
But "What trumpets that?" is just such a ridiculous line, that it really soups up the funny in this tale.
I've almost got a temptation now to actually go and see a production of King Lear and shout out that line in the wrong place as a tribute to Patrick Stewart for making me cackle with laughter on the East Coast Line for a good 10 minutes.
But obviously, that would be wrong.

I had a couple of gigs on Saturday at Sohoho Comedy and the late show at the Comedy Store.
There were 3 hours between the gigs though, so I had quite a bit of time to kill.
It's difficult finding something to do on your tod in the West End of London on a Saturday night.
The pubs and restaurants are jammed, so there's not really anywhere you can just grab a seat and chill out for a couple of hours.
And Piccadilly Circus is total mayhem.
In all seriousness, I felt more isolated wandering around Piccadilly Circus on my own on a Saturday night, than when I
was lost up a mountain on my own overnight last year.
I found it an unremittingly grim experience.
The Sohoho gig was decent and very enjoyable, but I had a real cracker at the Comedy Store, which I celebrated by quaffing a few pints in the immediate aftermath.
This was all fine and dandy ; but crashing out in the hostel and then having to continually get up repeatedly in the middle of the night, and make the journey to the gents to process the late flurry of pints was something of a pain.
It's not all glamour.
I decided to get moving early on Sunday and got to Piccadilly Tube station at 7.30am
Apart from a couple of people coming up the escalator as I headed down, the station was completely deserted.
It was surreal in comparison with the heaving mass of humanity who were there the night before.
As I sat on the empty platform, I saw a mouse scurrying along towards me.
It stopped briefly, acknowledged my presence, and then ran off down the tunnel.
I thought about writing a poem based on this experience but I had a sore head and didn't feel up to it.

Coining it in...

2011-01-17T19:24:00.004Z

I had to abandon my loose-change-carrying fitness regime due to treacherous conditions underfoot throughout December ; but I’m now very much up and walking again.
I carried £70 worth of change 2 miles today, including up and down Dundas Street.
It left me feeling sleepy afterwards and my back was aching slightly, but “no pain, no gain” and all that sort of thing.
In addition, psychologically, it feels good to get a cash payment at the end of the workout.
It’s as if I’m not only avoiding gym membership fees, but am getting paid to do my alternative workout.
Of course, I realise that it’s my money to begin with, but it seems to assume a different status when it is magically transformed into cash.
I don’t know how I managed to accumulate such vast piles of loose change.
I definitely didn't rob any charity collections...well, I certainly don't remember doing so?
It’s ridiculous…I don’t know where it all came from.
By the time I’ve finished carrying it all to the bank, I will be greasing up and appearing in my nearest “Mr Universe” heat.
I won’t win, but as is the case with comedy competitions, it’s all about taking part.
I walked past one of these slightly dodgy looking “cash loans/cheques cashed etc” emporiums today on the way to work. It hadn’t opened yet, but there was a queue of about 15 people waiting outside, looking a bit down on their luck. It all looked very grim, and reminded me of old black and white photos documenting the Great Depression in America in the 1930s.
As well as feeling physically uncomfortable carrying a rucksack full of loose change, seeing this depressing scene made me feel a bit guilty. Although, in fairness, it’s looking increasingly likely that I’ll be back to being a “full-time” comedian next month, so I’ll probably need my converted cash to supplement the haphazard comedy earnings.
I’m definitely vulnerable to attack though when I'm carrying this burden.
I'm like a wildebeast with a torn hamstring shuffling across the plains.
It’s hard enough walking with a rucksack full of loose change, so running is right out, and I tend to avoid walking along the canal paths, or break dancing on harbour walls.
It’s all about being aware and adapting accordingly.
In other news, I reckon I’m now saving approximately £100 a month by giving the deli shops a body swerve and making my own deluxe sandwiches.
I’m not saving money overall though…I’ve been splashing out buying snow shovels, various gardening tools, more than one lifetime’s supply of dvd box sets and comedy stuff on Amazon.
You know, stuff that’s ultimately a little bit more rewarding than a sandwich.
The other benefit of making your own sandwiches is that you avoid the temptation of buying a jumbo-sized bag of
kettle crisps to supplement your lunch sandwich.
I find crisps difficult to resist when I can see them fluttering their eyelashes at me from behind the counter.
But now that I don’t see them, I don’t think about them.
So that’s about 1500 calories a week saved in one fell swoop.
I’m scared to weigh myself though, in case crushing disappointment acts as the catalyst to an outburst of comfort binge eating.
I thought I was doing really well in the first week of the year by not eating between meals, exercising regularly and doing a lot of long walks.
However, I was surprised to see I’d put on 3 pounds.
The moral of the story seemed to be that not eating between meals and exercise are good things, but if your meals are dustbin lid size portions, then you are still going to put on weight.
So anyway, it’s all about “portion control” now.
This had better work.

Happy New Year

2011-01-16T20:45:00.002Z

Whenever I was in an Art Gallery as a child, I was always more impressed by the picture frames than anything else on display.
From my perspective, the actual paintings were upstaged by their intricately, carved golden frames.
I can’t remember if I actually thought they were made of real gold , but this is a distinct possibility.
Around the same time, I remember watching some heist action film on television, and being totally confused when I saw
the robbers cut out the paintings from the frames with stanley knives, rolling them up and then make their escape whilst leaving the frames in situ.
One one level, I could present this as a touching tale, illustrating how an innocent child can find beauty in an unexpected source.
Alternatively, you could present this as a demonstration of an early indicator of my somewhat confused and idiotic view of the world.
I’m sure Picasso and Dali would be raging if they found out that I was more impressed by their painting’s frames than the work itself.
To make matters worse, it was likely the case that neither of these artists had any input in the actual selection of frames
for their paintings at Kelvingrove Art Gallery.
It would have been an interesting finish to this anecdote if I went on how to describe what a talented painter and artist I have gone on to become in later life.
Alas, I remain completely useless at arts and crafts, to this day.
Although, it is still one of my remaining ambitions in life, to present an exhibition of picture frames during the Edinburgh Festival.
It would be a dream come true.
It would to a certain extent, mitigate the disappointment I felt when the tv series “You’ve Been Framed!” appeared on our screens.
I didn’t want to see people falling off hammocks or kittens playing a piano, I wanted to see a documentary on picture frames.

Coincidentally, I remember at school there used to be great big fights between all the boys called John against all the boys whose proper name was John but who were in practice referred to as "Jack".
It was as if the Jacks were seen as a threat by the rest of the Johns to the integrity and survival of the John forename.
I always got on ok with the James and Jimmys, but found the Jamies a bit odd.

Now is the winter of my 2-man tent

2010-11-06T12:56:00.004Z

So anyway, I was reading the Guardian "Film & Music" section.
There was an article on Eli Wallach, best known for playing the part of "Tuco Martinez",
the "Ugly" in "The Good, The Bad & The Ugly" spaghetti western.
Spaghetti westerns exert a strange power over me.
If I stumble across one on the telly while channel hopping, I will always watch it...even though I am likely to know the screenplay off by heart.
They are curious films, in that often some of the characters speak in English to other characters who are speaking Italian, but have been overdubbed in English.
Often the actors involved didn't understand any of the language that the other actors in their scene were speaking.
It must have just been a case of waiting for the other actor to stop speaking then get your line in.
I think this works in the films favour though, and gives the action that unique stylised stilted feel, which all we spaghetti western lovers know and love.
Genius.
Anyway, Eli is 95 years young and still working in the film industry.
David Coleman would describe this as "quite remarkable!".
I was intrigued to read on and discover that he is also a prolific composer, writing some "50 operas, including mini-operas for children and full-scale works in the grandest tradition".
He also collaborated with Tim Rice on the musical "Blondel", which was a "resounding success'.
I was amazed at this secret hinterland of the scheming "Tuco" from "The Good, The Bad & The Ugly".
But then I discovered that in skipping from column to column in the article, I'd failed to notice that the Eli Wallach article had ended and the column I was currently reading was a memorial article to the late classical composer Stephen Oliver.
It just goes to show that folding a newspaper in a certain way can cause hilarious misunderstandings.
This was definitely the closest my life resembled an episode of a traditional sitcom yesterday.
Last evening I answered a knock at my door to find a slightly dodgy looking young man wearing a rucksack.
He was displaying something in his right hand which was obviously purporting to be some sort of official id.
The first thing I noticed was that it didn't have a photo on it, which is quite unusual for an id card.
On closer inspection it was just a piece of cardboard with writing on it.
I couldn't make out exactly what it said.
I inquired what he was wanting, and he replied "I'm selling things".
I then said that I was on the phone to someone in America (I wasn't, and I truly have no idea why I said that rather than just say that I wasn't interested in buying any "things")
He didn't say what the things were, but asked if he could come back later and I just said "no".
This was definitely the closest my life resembled and episode of "The League of Gentlemen" yesterday.

Why isn't October the 8th month of the year?

2010-10-07T16:57:00.002+01:00

I'd parked my car in the Marchmont area of Edinburgh, and approached a ticket machine to buy a parking ticket.
On the machine I noticed that there were 3 parking tickets stuck on to it.
These tickets were yet to expire and had been attached to the machine by kindly motorists, who hoped that they would possibly
be re-used by people about to buy a ticket.
I found this sight strangely moving.
It was a nice bit of philanthropy in the midst of the usual I'm-all-right-jack urban mentality.
Something of a polite insurrection against the ridiculous parking charges now in force.
We were sticking it to the man.
I would have taken a picture of it, but I'd deliberately left my phone at home as an exercise in non-connectivity, to combat my
OCD internet excesses.
Anyway, I quite liked the way it was in the old days when people announced their phone number when they answered the phone.
Not only do I still do this, but when people knock on my door, I open it and then announce my address.
It's called "doing it right", ok?
Also, why don't they show old episodes of "Tomorrow's World".
It's be fascinating to see some of the ridiculous predictions and new technologies that they featured.
I wouldn't be surprised if the BBC had scrubbed them all.
Of course, they never predicted the rise of the Internet though. The idiots.
I remember being taken to Art Galleries as a young child and always being more impressed by the ornate golden frames than the paintings themselves.
I was baffled watching a heist film in which robbers cut round the painting with a knife, stealing it but leaving the frame in situ.
I thought they were mental, but apparently it was me who was in fact mental. So there you go.
Why has K2 got such a boring name for a mountain?
Has anyone ever had a pencil and kept using it until it was just a little pointed cone?
I was down in London traveling on a bus with the atheist slogan on the side, ie "There probably isn't a God, so just enjoy your life!".
I was quite comfortable traveling on such a bus, but would feel a greater sense of unease if the same slogan was written down the side of a plane I was traveling on.
I know it's irrational.
If you're worried about the threat of Iran developing a nuclear bomb, then I find it helps relax if you think of the Iranian Prime Minister as Mr Claypole from "Rent-A-Ghost".
I have gone 5 weeks without smoking, so my latest stopping smoking venture is going well.
As a reward for this achievement, I've treated myself to a reverse lipo-suction operation, and have had 2 kilos of goose fat pumped into my midriff (on the NHS, of course).
It's a good look.
My other idea is a show, with alternate endings to famous films.
eg Steve McQueen jumps over the wire in his motor bike and escapes in "The Great Escape" ;
President Charles De Gaulle gets his head blown off in "The Day of the Jackal" (ok, or maybe just gets his hat shot off...at least that would be funnier)
"Thelma and Louise" fly away like "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" but then get shot down by Tom Cruise in his fighter jet;
The Nazis capture all the Von Trapps at the end of "The Sound of Music";
James Stewart rushes in to the house at the end and catches his wife in bed with Mr Potter on Xmas Day in "It's A Wonderful Life"
"Billy Liar" ; Tom Courtenay GETS ON THE TRAIN and goes off with Julie Christie...why wouldn't you, you idiot!
etc etc
"Raiders of the Lost Ark" they open the Ark and a big jack-in-the-box thing springs out which looks like Hitler.
Right, that's enough, I'm going to lie down now and hum to myself for a few hours.

Good Afternoon.

2010-09-28T15:47:00.004+01:00

I haven't written anything in this blog for ages.
However, as I'm languishing indoors with some kind of flu bug, I might as well take the opportunity to regale you with some fresh shite.
The Fringe came and went ; the usual cocktail of highs and lows, the usual emotion-themed rollercoaster.
In summary, I felt we put a pretty good show on.
It had all looked a bit worrying after Traverse-gate. (our first proper preview)
But anyway it's hats off to the Edinburgh Evening News for giving us not one, but two, bad reviews.
The first was one was our first preview at a free gig in a pub. They failed to mention that it was a preview, slagged us off and put a big 1/4 page photo of us alongside the review.
Marvelous.
Tragically, neither of the reviews made it onto the internet.
Other than that we had a fairly typical mix of good and bad press coverage.
As of last year, it was a great honour and pleasure to again be part of The Stand's Fringe programme.
We had to work a bit harder for the audiences this year, compared to the 2009 sellout-fest.

I've just finished doing a little Scottish tour organised by the Gilded Balloon supporting Hattie Hayridge.
I was very flattered to be asked to do it, and I was obviously very keen not to make an arse of things.
I'm really happy with the way all the gigs went, and Hattie and Viv were a delight to work with.
All the gigs were on huge expansive stages which were totally crying out for some expressive, dance-based stand-up.
Maybe next time.

For some unknown reason, the film "The Naked Prey" came into my mind.
I remember watching it on television as a kid and being quite shocked.
The story concerns a group of British people on safari in Africa, going around shooting elephants for their ivory.
Some tribesmen appear and hint that they'd like some gifts as a payment for using their land to pursue elephant atrocities.
The safari leader tells them to piss off.
This turns out to be a bad move, as the tribesmen return and take out their vengeance on the hunting party.

It's the inventiveness of the executions which stuck in my head as a kid.
For one bloke a crowd of women dress him up like a chicken, chase after him, then dozens of them stab him with little pointy sticks.
Another is covered in clay then roasted alive in a spit over a campfire...
Then another is tied to the ground and a snake is scared by flames and then bites him in the face...
The rest of the film is about the surviving safari member being given a sporting chance to run away and then be hunted down..
(he was in favour of giving the tribesman a present at the beginning, so they are more lenient with him)

To my surprise, the whole film is on youtube.
It's disappeared from tv showings, that's for sure.
I think I was 8 when I watched it on tv.

I'm now suffering from some delayed Fringe-Flu lurgae type thing.
It's an injustice.

I've got a few new bits of pieces of stand-up which I'm trying to batter into shape.
I was trying to find a way of using my experience at the waxworks museum in Amsterdam.
I was in a "politicians" section and saw Margaret Thatcher.
I was quite transfixed by the Thatcher model (not in a sexual way) and just stared at her for quite a while.
As I moved away, I became aware of a gasp behind me.
And (I swear to god this is true), behind me was a Dutch man who thought I was a waxwork dummy, and was startled when
I suddenly moved.
(he established this through acting out a dummy coming to life)
Unfortunately, he didn't speak English (I know..in Holland??? bizarre!), so I wasn't able to discover who he thought I was.
Denis Thatcher?
Another European political leader? Charles De Gaulle?
Anyway, I started telling this story at a gig recently, and people seemed to be liking it, but it didn't really go anywhere.
Like a broken down bus.

Fringe Magnet

2010-08-11T11:47:00.002+01:00

It's fair to say that after the first couple of "The Silence of the Trams 2" previews, I was seriously considering renting a Cessna 206 six-seater light aircraft, inviting the rest of the cast to join me, then flying it into the Scottish Parliament building.
It just seemed appropriate.
Of course I would do it at night when there was no-one working in the building.
I wouldn't want to be accused of having a selfish disregard for other peoples' lives.
It's just the symbolism I was interested in.
Anyway, after the wreckage of the Illicit Still and Traverse previews we had a cracking one in Burntisland, and another
at Stand 1 last Monday to an unexpectedly big crowd.
All of a sudden we were cock hoop!
It's such a fickle business.
Apart from last Saturday where we had a very low-energy, cold audience that you get every now and then at a Fringe comedy show, it's been ticking along nicely.
Yesterday a man who had apparently been drinking came down and sat beside me, hesitated, then asked if I knew of a nearby
"mortuary".
I immediately worried that this was some kind of obtuse threat to my well-being.
But he seemed quite non-threatening, so I explained that I thought there was one in the Cowgate.
I didn't ask him why he was looking for a mortuary, or even make a joke saying the one at Cowgate is in the "dead centre" of Edinburgh.
He went way quite happy with my information.
Shortly afterwards, I was approached by incredibly grumpy-looking, elderly American tourists.
"Can you tell me where the tourist office is?" said the man, with a cheeriness reminiscent of the way Clint Eastwood asked his soon to be victims if they're "feeling lucky, punk?"
I started giving them directions which were quite complicated, given their current position.
I realised half-way through my speech that he'd mentally switched off.
He waited for a pause then said "Thank you" and headed off.
Surely he needed to run through what I'd just told him, to make sure he'd got it.
I felt like I'd been buzzered off on a kind of "Giving Directions X Factor" show.
I think the hotel that they book into are going to have a tricky time keeping these 2 happy.
As usual I am rapidly losing weight during the Fringe ; as usual I will put it back on after the Fringe as I become
Mr Creosote for a few days.

Hello again

2010-07-03T18:59:00.004+01:00

There's been a bit of a layoff on the blog writing.
This is mainly due to working on computers during the day and consequently feeling uninspired to start typing on a different computer, at the end of the day, as Alan Hansen might say.
It seems all wrong on a number of different levels.
Anyway, I am feeling quite smug because I haven't smoked for 6 days.
No matter how fucking ridiculous and unwarranted the smugness is, I still am.
It's totally pathetic...
How many times have I been down this road?
I have by now now fully paved the road to hell with my good intentions, and am just concentrating on routine maintenance work these days.
I have no credibility in this area, and you are completely within your rights to sneer and guffaw in my general direction.
I deserve it.
This latest health stint is on the back of being a bit ill for the last week.
Emerging from a good prolonged bout of illness always represents an ideal opportunity to embark on a half-hearted new health regime.
I did 4 nights at The Stand last week, each night feeling awful, and genuinely concerned that I might faint on stage with the heat.
I had a really good run of shows though. There's obviously something intrinsically funny about appearing ill and slightly out of sorts.
Re the coffin nails, I was doing quite well, Oct 2009 - March 2010, not a single gasper.
The stress involved in doing a show at The Stand in Edinburgh then driving through to Glasgow to do a solo show at the Comedy Festival ended in a reckless couple of sneaky fags, and I've been back as an occasional puffer ever since.
I will obviously just have to avoid any unnecessary stress for the rest of my life.
I have also been giving thought to quitting booze as well.
I got rather drunk last week and crashed my bike on the way home.
I was ok but my bike was seriously injured.
The handlebars are now at a 45 degree angle to the front wheel.
Unless I manage to adjust them I will be unable to ever get anywhere on my bike and will just have to content myself with cycling in a small circle.
I could say that I'm hilariously satirising my life?
At least it'll still be good exercise.
I was really mad with myself the next day. I should have moved on from participating in this sort of fucked up behaviour.
Maybe I should just give up cycling.
The World Cup group stage was turgid crap, but the knockout matches have been excellent.
I think in future I'll just start watching it when it gets to the last 16, and avoid the preamble.
I felt sorry for Ghana last night.
The handball thing left a bad taste in the mouth.
The problem is that there is no real disincentive for the man on the line at that stage of the game to not punch the ball away.
He gets sent off, but the match is over anyway, so being reduced to 10 men is a meaningless sanction.
He gives away a penalty, but that's better than a goal and certain elimination.
I can't think of any other sport where you could deliberately cheat like that and ultimately secure victory for your team.
It's true that most players would probably have done the same thing ; although not if it had happened early on in the game, rather than the last minute of extra time.
Did anyone honestly think that Ghana were going to stand a chance in the penalty kicks?
Psychologically they were shot to pieces because they knew they'd missed a golden opportunity.
FIFA know that seeing someone who's just cheated and been sent off, being carried off shoulder high in triumph by his team mates, is a PR disaster for football, and they'll feel that a rule tweak may be required.
Mark Lawrenson continues to drive me insane with his whiney drivel, closely followed by Mick McCarthy and Chris Coleman, while Alan Hansen has really perfected his "clubhouse bore" persona.
Do they have jobs for life at the BBC?
Mind you, if you ever want to cheer yourself up, search on Twitter for "Mark Lawrenson" and "Alan Hansen" during a match broadcast, and be comforted in the knowledge that you are far from alone in considering them annoying bellends.

Eventful weekend

2010-05-04T15:59:00.003+01:00

On Friday I set off up North for a weekend walking/camping up in the Highlands.
We were heading to Kinlochewe where the plan was to walk up to the banks of Lochan Fada to camp on Friday and Saturday ; do a couple of mountains on the Saturday, then do Ben Slioch on the Sunday and then head back down.
We decided to take wood up there as there isn't any around at Fada.
The walk up was pretty long (about 10k), and was tougher than I anticipated ; mainly due to my ridiculously heavy rucksack.
I had 8 logs of wood, 3 litres of wine, a tent and various other bits and pieces.
I found the carrying of this weight brutally hard work.
At the best of times I'm more of a "mountain snail" than a "mountain goat", so progress was slow and I found myself in my traditional backmarker role.
I had a map and stuff, and knew that we were camping at the side of the loch, and assumed that when I arrived at the loch it would become obvious where the camp was.
Of course you should never make assumptions of anything in this environment.
My overriding concern was just getting this ridiculous rucksack up the path, and nothing else was really occupying my thoughts.
There were quite exposed parts of the path along the way and a careful crossing of a steam in spate.
These moments would not normally be any cause for concern, but the destabilising effect of carrying a large pack on your back is something you have to be acutely aware of.
A slip at the stream crossing would lead to a virtually certain death as you plunged down the waterfall into the steep gully.
Eventually I reached the loch but became a bit confused as the path seemed to diverge.
At first I took the right turn (this was the correct way), and followed it down towards the loch.
I couldn't see the tents anywhere, so convinced myself that I should walk back up the path and carry on the left fork which headed up the side of the loch.
For about an hour and I half I walked up this path.
There was a series of dips and plateaux, and I kept convincing myself that when I reached the next plateau I'd be able to spot the camp.
I didn't.
I was as knackered as I can ever remember and it was starting to get dark.
No mobile coverage. Shit.
I blew long and hard on my whistle and waited for any response. Nothing.
I then had to take the awful decision that I'd have to take shelter and put up the tent while I still could see what I was doing.
It was a highly stressful time as I fully realised the anxiety that my non-appearance would cause, but there was now no alternative.
The forecast was pretty grim and I'd definitely have perished with exposure without the tent.
It wasn't a good place to camp.
I effectively put the tent up in a bog and was slightly submerged when I clambered into it.
A fog came down and it started pissing with rain.
I worried that the high winds forecast might blow the tent away as pegs in bog ain't that secure.
I didn't sleep..I was cold, wet and knackered but the stress of the situation kept me wired all night.
It's a very lonely and desolate place to hang out.
I just waited for light so I could get moving .
I started off at about 5.30 and began to head back down the side of the loch again.
At about 7.00 I clambered up a slope then saw me old mate Mitch pop up on the horizon.
"Jim?' "Jim Park?" he shouted.
"Yes" I shouted back.
It was very emotional when we met up.
He pretty much thought I was dead and must have fallen off the path.
Like laughter, tears are very infectious...and we both had a greet and a hug.
Then he told me that the mountain rescue were out looking for me.
I was absolutely mortified when he told me this...I hadn't anticipated this at all.
Then the mountain rescue man appeared.
Then over the mountains appeared a huge rescue helicopter.
He seemed slightly bemused when he noticed I was carrying 8 logs on my rucksack.
Must have thought I was a mentalist.
Then a flare was set off to guide the chopper in to land.
It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life.
Although I was fine, I was told I had to get on the helicopter and get flown back down to Kinlochewe to report in and see if the police wanted to interview me etc.
2 of our group had headed back down the path in the middle of the night to get to Kinlochewe to dial 999.
I felt terrible about this, because by making this journey, they'd put themselves in a far more dangerous situation than I was in.
The helicopter ride was very exhiliarating ; although there was a sombre reminder of different outcomes when I looked at the stretcher beside my seat.
The rescue team were great though, and assured me that in the circumstances, the right decision had been made to call them out.
I got talking to a bunch of Jehovah's Witnesses out on a day trip, and explained to them what had just been happening.
They didn't miss the opportunity of reminding me of the God stuff, and handed me some leaflets and a magazine to read.
What was weird was that I had never really been in danger, but as as result of all this going on, I was beginning to feel that I'd escaped a near-death situation.
I was all choked up...and there was John and Dave at the rescue centre...looking as relieved as I was embarrassed.
The knowledge that your friends thought you were dead is quite upsetting.
I booked into a hotel, but then decided to re-join the rest of the gang as they'd decided to move camp to lower down.
We had a great night by the camp fire with exotic home-made curries, wine and whisky, then went up Ben Slioch the next day.
It was an unexpectedly sunny, warm day with the most incredible views.
So all's well that ends well, I suppose.
I made a sizeable donation to the rescue team.

Spotted

2010-04-02T14:43:00.003+01:00

I bumped into Kenny, the manager of The Stand, last night.
He'd seem me doing my main road walk in Barnton as he passed on his motorbike, and thought that I looked "highly suspicious".
There's no real privacy in Edinburgh. It's a village.
I was thinking that if there was any serious crime committed on Wednesday, within the vicinity of my main road walk, then I could easily find myself to be a suspect.
The "Crimewatch" reconstruction would mention that "a man with a vacant expression wearing a blue waterproof jacket was seen walking alone in the area at approximately the same time as the offence was committed".
The police would be urging this oddball to come forward to "eliminate himself from police inquiries".
I'd be reluctant to do that though, as I'd have to reveal to the nation that I walk along main roads as a recreational activity.
The police would find that alibi so unlikely, that they might stitch me up, thinking that my defence would get thrown out by any jury as incredible ; and I don't mean that in a good way.
I've just got to hope that there wasn't a murder near the Barnton roundabout on Wednesday.
I woke up this morning with the most appalling hangover I've had in years.
I did the usual vows to never drink again, or at least for a while etc etc
But then it dawned on me that alcohol has not passed my lips for 3 days.
What I was experiencing was the after effects of spending 5 hours digging in my garden.
I was aching all over and could hardly get out of bed.
This is what happens when a normally sedentary worker dabbles in hard, manual labour.
I'd imagine that my net-curtain-twitching neighbours found the sight of me digging for 5 hours to be "highly suspicious".
What with the main road walking, and the uncharacteristic, prolonged digging in my back garden, a compelling case is being built up against me.
I finished up quits on the Wednesday night football action.
I won on Inter Milan beating CSKA Moscow, but lost on my bet of Arsenal beating Barcelona.
The Arsenal match was a perfect illustration of why you should always consolidate your winnings if you are in a favourable position on a football match.
Barcelona were leading 2-0.
The match up till that point was like Brazil vs Accrington Stanley reserves.
It's very rare to see a team so comprehensively outplayed as Arsenal were, at this stage of the Champions League.
You could have got 160/1 on Arsenal winning at this point.
The people who betted on Barcelona to win must have felt completely secure about their investment.
But of course, the unpredictable nature of football comes into effect and Arsenal score twice to draw.
They should have been 5 down at half-time ; a draw was a totally ridiculous result, given the balance of play.
Of course, a draw is a great result for bookies.
Relatively few people bet on a draw ; the inclination is to back a winner.

The Walk

2010-03-31T22:40:00.002+01:00

I went for a 12 mile walk today.
I walked out to Corstorphine, then across Drumbrae to Barnton, then back into Haymarket.
Why?
No idea...I was a bit cabin feverish after yesterdays glorious weather and felt I needed some fresh air.
Walking along main roads is quite an unusual activity.
I didn't meet anyone else doing it.
I was wondering if I could maybe write a guide on great main road walks in the UK?
It's not very picturesque, and you are forced to inhale the exhaust fumes of thousands of vehicles.
However, if you get bored, you have the opportunity to stop at a bus stop and jump on a bus.
This is not possible when you are hillwalking in the Highlands.
One thing I noticed in the course of my grand walk is that I have a long-standing predilection to stop and look in the windows of fish shops.
I'm not sure why I do this.
The wares on display tend to be pretty constant.
Haddock,Cod,Halibut,Smoked Haddock,Whiting,Sole,Mussels,Prawns and that's about it.
One thing that annoys me looking in fish shop windows is when the fishmonger(s) stare at me while I'm doing it.
It makes me feel uncomfortable, and I probably spend less time looking in the window than I would ideally like.
It's the expression on their faces that gets me.
I imagine that it's a similar expression to one that somebody would do if you walked into their garden and pressed your face against their living room window while they were watching television.
Surely you should welcome people looking at your fish?
They should smile and wave at me...that way I'm more likely to come in and buy a fish.
I've come to the conclusion that I was a fish in a previous life.
This is the only rational explanation as to why I am constantly drawn to look into fish shop windows.
I'm beginning to think that the Fishmongers recognise this and see me as some kind of threat to their livelihood.
Perhaps they fear that I want to steal all their goods so that I can give all my brother and sister fish a decent burial, rather
than allow their bodies to be disgracefully displayed to the public by the evil Fishmonger trade.

Anyway, month 2 of my football betting system got off to a poor start when I bet on Rangers to beat Dundee United last week, but discovered just before kick-off that Walter Smith had slected a virtual reserve team.
Dundee United Won.
I got back on track by backing Liverpool to beat Sunderland.
Last night I hit the jackpot.
I was already backing Bayern Munich to beat Manchester United.
Man U scored after a minute.
I deviated slightly from my system by putting more money on Bayern to win.
I just had a gut instinct that Man U had scored too early and that Bayern could come back and win. (at odds of 8/1 now)
There is a bit of a history of teams scoring first in big games then going on to lose the match...most recently Aston Villa in the league cup final against Man U...
It can slightly discombobulate a team to score so early, and they end up surrendering the momentum of the match.
In the end Bayern won 2-1, and I made £366.70 on the match.
My month 2 situation is now £273 in profit.

Goldfish Bowl

2010-03-28T14:20:00.002+01:00

To be involved with either Old Firm club either as a player or a manager, your existence will constantly be referred to by the media
as like "living in a goldfish bowl", in terms of the scrutiny you come under.
Celtic need a new manager now.
I think it would be a good idea to actually appoint a goldfish.
This isn't as idiotic as it sounds.
There are advantages.
For instance, the goldfish would be unlikely to get into bother with the SFA as a consequence of openly criticising match officials.
In a post-match interview, if the goldfish was asked about a controversial penalty in the first half, he'd already have forgotten about it completely, and would have no view to make known.
(yes it will be a male goldfish...the SPL isn't quite ready for a female goldfish manager)
Also, the goldfish can say that he will "take one match at a time" without being regarded as spouting managerspeak cliches.
At press conferences, the media representatives should be forced to throw a ping pong ball into a goldfish bowl before they can ask the manager a question.
The goldfish could also win favour with the hacks by producing a series of quotable, dreadful, fish puns...
"Are you expecting a big crowd at Parkhead on Saturday?"
"Yes, we fully expect to fillet"
"What's your favourite pop group?"
"Fishbone Ash"
The press will love all that sort of stuff and give the goldfish an easy ride in the tabloids.

I gigged at "Hamish's Hoose" in Paisley last night.
It was hard work, and the heckles were coming thick and fast, but I enjoyed the combative nature of the performance.
I always know now when it is going to be quite a tough gig.
I come on and say that I "specialise in impro-VISATIONAL comedy"...I raise my clipboard and shout "thank you very much" before the audience get a chance to respond.
Most of the time this gets a big laugh, as it all comes across as being a bit mental.
I usually have a good gig if they find this bit funny.
Occasionally, it gets nothing, and from that moment I know that it is going to be hard work.
It went ok in the end but a tough gig nonetheless.
It's a great room for comedy though, and it's always a pleasure to do a gig that fellow comedian Chris Scoular promotes.
He's one of the genuine good guys in comedy, and a very funny man as well.
There was a big crowd at the gig, but it was noticeable how dead the rest of Paisley was on a Saturday night.
There were boarded up night clubs and bars that previously had been swarming with hundreds of revellers.
It had a real ghost town feel to it.
I got back at about 3.00am (losing an hour in the process)
Starving.
The only place I could think to go was the kebab joint at Tollcross.
It's weird being in a place like that when you're stone cold sober and everyone else is pissed out of their skulls.
The way alcohol makes everyone shout at each other is a fascinating phenomenon to observe.
Was alcohol ever called the "shouting drug" in its early days?
I was going to order a healthy kebab, but I couldn't stand waiting in this shouty nightmare, so went for the instant option of a large doner.
I haven't had a doner kebab in years.
I have to admit I enjoyed it, but 2000 calories just before bedtime is not ideal preparation, in terms of conditioning, for
a triathlon.

Catching Up

2010-03-22T15:35:00.002Z

The poor old blog has been sadly neglected of late. I can't apologise enough.
Anyway, in hindsight my cunning plan of doing a gig in Edinburgh an hour before I did my solo show in Glasgow was
completely mental.
Idiot.
The normal stand-up has been going really nicely, but I wasn't happy with the solo show.
I decided not to include any existing material in it, and just wrote an untested hour of monologue.
Again this was probably more than a little mental.
Because the show had a narrative thread to it, I thought it would work by keeping the script fairly loose.
But on the night I seemed to be using all my energies trying to remember what I was going to say next rather than
breathing life into the story.
I was stressed out bigtime anyway, and that didn't help.
I even decided to smoke a few cigarettes before the show, thereby ruining my glorious 5 months abstinence ;
(back off them again though...I'll probably have to accept there may be an odd lapse every few months)
It was certainly a learning experience, that's for sure.
I was away in the mountains at the weekend with a pal of mine who informed me that the car he was driving used to belong
to someone who was killed in a mountaineering accident this year.
I'm not really superstitious, but the tabloid sub-editor in me could see a good "story" if the two of us managed to fall off a cliff on this trip.
"The Curse of the Car".
I've relaunched the Betfair football betting as an alternative source of income (hopefully).
It's going pretty well at the moment ; I've made £772 profit in March so far.
It's critically important to stick to the rules though.
My policy is to never have a bet "just because I feel like having a bet".
I must only bet on a match where I perceive there is some "value" in the odds.
I must always resist the temptation to make another bet immediately after a losing bet.
I only bet on matches which are live on television and facilitate in-play betting.
The other rule is that if the team I am betting on scores the opening goal, I must immediately lay off on the other team to cover my initial stake.
This means that if my team doesn't win, I don't make any profit, but I don't lose any money.
If my team wins, I make a profit with a deduction on the amount I've laid off against them winning.
You get so many games where a team goes into the lead, dominates the whole game but then loses a late equaliser.
The in-play bet guards against this coupon bustin' possibility.
The last time I got involved with this Befair malarkey, I ended up even over the long term.
I should have been way ahead but made some ridiculous, foolhardy bets chasing after losses.
I'm hoping I can make a decent profit if I stick rigidly to my system.
It doesn't really feel like a particularly honourable job though.
Am I contributing to society in a meaningful way?
Probably not.
Oh well, I'll be attempting to spread the gift of laughter this evening ; it being the best medicine and all that...allegedly.

Really? Well I never...

2010-02-19T12:41:00.002Z

The first thing I heard when I woke up this morning was some blustering buffoon on a radio phone-in show complaining about the government "squandering millions" on a variety of "white horses".
It's nice to have a good rueful sneer to start the day with.
So I was waiting at a bus stop on Monday and along came a bus. Who'd have thunk it?
Anyway, what made this event slightly more noteworthy was the fact the LED display denoting the number and destination of this particular bus wasn't working.
The bus pulled up at the stop, the doors opened, and the bus driver shouted out "Number 44!".
He did not sound at peace with the world at all.
Having to shout "Number 44" at the top of his voice at every single stop on the route was undoubtedly taking its toll on him.
To make matters worse, after he shouted "Number 44", the woman in front of me in the queue asked him "Is this a 44?".
I found it very amusing that a few of the people at the stop who got on the bus seemed very, very cagey about the whole business.
It was as if they were deeply uncomfortable about getting on a bus without a number and destination clearly visible.
I sensed they thought it might be some kind of trick.
They had the demeanor of a group of chickens boarding a vehicle who'd just noticed that the driver was a fox.
The tailspin in enthusiasm with which the driver shouted "Number 44" at each successive stop on my journey was keeping me entertained big time.
In fact I'd say it's pretty much the funniest bus journey I'd ever been on.
I used my telepathic skills to get people at the bus stops repeatedly ask the driver that it definitely was a "44".
At one point he shouted "Do you think I would just make this up?"
In hindsight, I would have been tempted to bribe the driver and get him to shout out a completely different number at the next stop.
"Number 31!".
At this point I would jump out of my seat screaming "Oh my god! It's a trap! It's a trap! We're all going to die!", and then pretend to faint.
I'd then try to get a hold of the closed circuit tv footage and create a viral phenomenon on youtube.
Oh well, next time.
After my disastrous gig of 2 weeks ago, I had probably as good a gig as I've ever had anywhere at The Stand on Sunday night.
The most important aspect of it for me was that it was the "main support" slot, but the energy level felt like a 5 minute middle-of-the-bill spot.
It was bizarre to have such contrasting gigs at the same venue in a short period of time.

The Tree

2010-02-08T12:51:00.003Z

I thought I'd better do another blog.
It's maybe not a good idea to leave a shit review on the first page, even if it was penned by my good self.
I'll have to do another one pretty promptly after this one too as I've now referenced the aforementioned "shit review" twice.
Many people have emailed me asking for an update on the tree situation.
Well, what's happened is that a large branch (itself the size of a medium tree) just fell off the big tree one day.
I'm a bit worried in case the whole tree falls down, and I happen to be working in my garden pruning fruit trees.
it could land right on top of me.
The ramifications of such a tragic event would be unthinkable in the world of Scottish Comedy.
Middle-aged, alcoholic women in West Lothian would likely commit mass suicides in a chilling echo of the Jim Jones sect's demise in Guyana.
Anyway, I'm on the case.
The tree must go.
AND it blocks out the late afternoon sun.
However, this is primarily a health and safety issue, and the fact that the tree blocks out the sun and fucks up my TV reception, is purely incidental.

First Gig of 2010

2010-02-01T21:39:00.004Z

I hadn't gigged since before Xmas, so was a little edgier than usual before last night's gig.
Unfortunately, my debut gig of 2010 was a far from joyful occasion.
I thought it looked a pretty good crowd initially, but it soon became clear from the compere's opening exchanges that the
stage was ring-fenced by a large group of pissed-up, spray-tanned, over-made-up, gobby, middle-aged women from West Lothian.
Scott Agnew went down very well with them, but my gut feeling was that they were really not my demographic and that this might well be a bit of a struggle.
I started off ok, but it soon became clear that I was a little too "out there" (or "not funny" ; whatever is most applicable for "The Friends of Subo" collective's comedy sensibilities).
They spent the rest of my set talking amongst themselves and periodically heckling.
I didn't really handle it all that well, and not having gigged in almost 6 weeks certainly wasn't helping.
There was another strange man who kept shouting out weird random comments from the back.
I couldn't really see him properly because of the lights, but when I clocked him at the interval, my first thought was "is he going to a fancy dress party as a paedophile, or are these his own clothes?" (he had a big bushy beard as well).
That might have helped my cause if I could have seen him properly during my set.
The problem is that the nature of my set encourages people to shout things out (although 99% of the time they don't).
It was an impossible situation, and the ladies succeeded in making the show about them.
More able comedians would have ripped them apart though.
Anyway, it was 15 minutes of pain, and immediately became one of my top 3 "least enjoyable gigs of all-time".
I could criticise the crowd, and call it a large-scale "Cunts Convention", but the other comedians had decent gigs, so I have to take the blame for not being quick enough on my feet to reverse the catastrophic progress of my performance.
Oh well, at least the "Daily Record" weren't in to review it (I don't think so, anyway).
I am feeling a bit wounded, but am trying to channel my genocidal impulses towards the people of West Lothian by throwing myself into writing with a vengeance.

Testing Times

2010-01-22T12:00:00.002Z

I had a gruesome session of root canal treatment yesterday.
It was just not enjoyable on any level ; very disappointing.
I had a very sore face at the end of it.
If the dentist had spent 40 minutes repeatedly punching me in the face, it wouldn't have been any less pleasant.
It's the slow-grinding drill which seems to make your whole head vibrate that I particularly dislike.
The day had started badly when I missed the attempted delivery of my new astro-turf trainers which I'd bought on the Internet.
I bought them on the Internet because the trainers i looked at in all the shops in Edinburgh were shitty, gimmicky and craptastic.
I didn't want trainers that lit up or were fluorescent silver with embarassing slogans written on them.
Anyway, I checked the card...the Citylink man had ticked the box that said "customer must collect at depot".
The depot was in Livingston.
Handy.
I drove to Livingston the next day, only to discover that the driver had ticked the wrong box, and that he was going to attempt another delivery that day.
I wasn't best pleased at this revelation, and resorted to my usual default setting of extreme sarcasm towards the Citylink receptionist.
I asked for the driver's mobile so that I could arrange to meet him in Edinburgh.
Apparently, I couldn't get this without his express permission.
I sometimes wish I would go completely ballistic in a situation like this.
I'm sure it would be immensely satisfying.
It's just not in my nature though.
They were having trouble contacting the driver, but my sarcasm eventually paid off, and they miraculously managed to contact him, and he agreed to meet me in Grove Street.
He wasn't apologetic about his idiotic mistake when I met him.
"Bit of a drag driving out to Livingstone chief!" was all he said as he handed me the package.
I was playing football that afternoon.
The trainers were too small for me.
This didn't improve my mood.
I then realised that the Internet shop was in Kirkcaldy so I just decided to drive across and exchange them.
I then went to Sainsburys.
I was walking down the steps into my flat when my baguette slid out my bag.
I didn't notice I'd dropped it until I stepped along the length of it in my muddy boots and squished it.
I wasn't happy about this development, but it was an exceptional moment of physical comedy that Rowan Atkinson would have definitely incorporated into his next hilarious Mr Bean adventure, if he had witnessed it.
In a more positive development, I have completed my self-assessment tax return a full 10 days ahead of the deadline.
This is unprecedented.
And 3 months of no smoking has now been achieved.
It's time to get the cigars out...it's finally over...possibly.
I didn't drink for 2 weeks just after the New Year.
Worryingly, I found this much more difficult that stopping smoking.
It's the continual active encouragement to drink that makes it tougher...it's still socially acceptable to pickle your liver.
Going to the cinema these days and watching all the ads is like being subjected to a massive alcohol propaganda campaign.
I think it's just a matter of time before these ads go the same way as the old fags cinema ads.

"Never Knowingly Underwater" Glasgow Comedy Festival Friday 12th March, State Bar, Glasgow.

2010 (time and a half)

2010-01-10T11:44:00.002Z

Happy New Year.
I liked the way Gordon Brown referred to the current Ice Age as a "cold snap" today.
Nobody in the meteorological camp is sticking their head above the parapet and predicting with any conviction when this is going to end.
It feels like the Festive season hasn't finished yet.
It always does drag on a bit towards the end, but this is ridiculous.
The Park clan was split up in various locations this Christmas, so I ended up in a merger with some friends and friends of friends.
It made a really refreshing change to do the Christmas thing with a mix of relatives and friends.
I was supposed to be spending New Year up North but bottled driving up with the weather and all that.
I'm now viewed as "unreliable" though, and I sense that my personal approval rating has disastrously slumped.
My brother gave me the biggest laugh of the Festive season.
A few of us were round at my sister's for a meal, and a fair amount of wine had been consumed.
I was in the kitchen, and noticed my brother opening a bottle of Italian champagne which was part of a bulk mail order my sister had organised.
I tipped Ann off about this.
Once Gavin had returned, Ann talked about how she'd invested a lot of cash in a highly prized bottle of Italian champagne.
She's been specifically advised to invest in this brand, and it would reportedly be worth a 5 figure sum if she held onto it for 10 years.
The look on Gavin's face was priceless.
It was reminiscent of a "Tom and Jerry" cartoon in which the colour theatrically drains from a character's face.
She had him hook, line and sinker for a couple of minutes.
Beautiful.
2009 was a real up and down comedy year.
The highs were fantastic gigs at the Hackney Empire and the Comedy Store.
There were also some really good reviews and also a lot of awful reviews.
(the Daily Record one stands out as the worst)
It was a great honour to be invited to do a Fringe show at The Stand.
We were mega-successful at the box-office, but took a severe kicking critically.
In 2010, I'm doing a solo show at the upcoming Glasgow Comedy Festival to drag me kicking and screaming out of my comfort zone.
I think I might finally have quit cigarettes for good.
That's nearly 3 months now, and I didn't really have any inclination to smoke during the Festive season ; traditionally,
a burial ground of ex-smokers.
Now, I can start thinking about taking the weight off (part of the non-smoking strategy was to allow gluttony)

I understand...

2009-12-17T12:13:00.004Z

To a certain extent, I have sympathy for Tiger Woods and the predicament he currently finds himself in.
I too am a golfer, and only too aware of the accompanying pressures which participating in this sport bring.
The basic truth of the matter is that for millions of females, the sight of a man carrying a bag of golf clubs, whilst wearing a pringle sweater with brightly-coloured slacks, is the personification of irresistibility.
I've experienced this phenomenum first hand many times, and understand how easy it would be to succumb to temptation and use golf as a convenient vehicle to get off with literally hundreds of women.
In fact, as well as my regulation, full set of clubs in my bag, I also keep a shitty stick, which I use to ward off the hordes of groupies who loiter outside clubhouses waiting for golfers to emerge.
At least Tiger's downfall has brought global attention to the plight of golfers having to cope on a daily basis with this constant hounding.
It is only by choosing to play on rainy days, with a wind chill factor of minus 5C, that I can "enjoy" a game of golf without constant interruption these days.
I'm playing probably the last game of 2009 next Monday. (I thought you might be interested)
Bob, who usually whips my ass (this is a golfing metaphor), has failed to beat me in the last 8 matches.
Next Monday represents his last chance in 2009 to halt the "Jim Park Golfing Juggernaut" (I thought you might be interested).
I could just write about golf all the time really...
Is anyone still reading this?
btw I am on twitter as jimmyparker99
I can give you a hole-by-hole update if you follow me.
So there you go...

Round up.

2009-12-12T16:16:00.002Z

My sketch got a pretty decent reaction at "Melting Pot".
It probably would have been better received if anybody in the audience had heard of the Broons comic strip, (very international crowd).
I'd already decided that a Broons parody was all a bit hack anyway. Must try harder.
I was already aware that there's not quite as much money in pro snooker as there used to be.
This was confirmed when I saw that this week's snooker on BBC is the "Pukka Pie UK Snooker Championship".
No disrespect to pies, but I suspect that the sponsorship cash on offer from PP represents a tiny fraction of what the fag companies used to put up before they were banned.
It's a reverse situation from football.
In football the older retired players must curse that they missed out on the big cash £100K a week wages possibilities.
In their day, they had to either become managers or run a pub after they retired ; whereas a lot of today's players don't really need to do anything beyond their playing careers, such are the riches they can now achieve in the game.
However, in snooker, the heyday was the 80s and early 90s when Embassy and Benson & Hedges etc threw millions at the game as it gave them extended prime time terrestial TV advertising.
But now, it's the time of "Pukka Pies" and selling advertising space to local traders on their waistcoats...
I was interested to see the BBC pre-match announcer shout "Let's Get The Boys On The Baize!".
Some of the audience joined in, so I assume this is the new snooker catchphrase.
It's snooker's answer to dart's "Let's Play DARTS!" (genius)
Just been for a haircut...quite a grumpy Australian barber.
This was the opening chat?
Barber : "Were you out last night?"
Me: "Yes, just for a couple of beers"
Barber: "Where were you?"
Me: "Burlington Bertie's"
Barber: "Was there a lot of pussy in?"
Now, I thought that was a bit over-familiar, and I was a bit shocked.
I hesitated, then replied "A reasonable amount", but didn't elaborate.
This seemed to put a dampener on the conversation, and there was silence for the next 5 minutes.
Then he suddenly shouted "You stupid cunt!"
I thought he was talking to me, but he was berating someone outside who had accidentally walked into his barber "A" board on the pavement.
He then moaned about people in Gorgie being "the fucking thickest on the planet, mate..."
Australian people are supposed to be relentlessly cheery.
What has happened?

Suspicious

2009-12-09T13:56:00.003Z

Amongst the pile of Christmas cards, I spotted a plain envelope addressed to "The Parents or Carers of Jim Park".
That's an unusual first line, I thought.
Has my performance at the "Heresy Comedy Club" last week led to moves for me to be sectioned?
With a degree of trepidation, I opened the letter...even though it was not actually addressed to me personally.
Was I breaking the law?
Anyway, it turns out that it was from the Organ Donor Registry people confirming that "Jim Park" had registered to donate his organs.
I then noticed that the date of birth of "Jim Park" recorded in the document was "14/05/2009".
I was officially only 6 months old, hence the letter being addressed to my "parents or carer".
I can't help feeling that there is something slightly dodgy in a parent registering his infant child for organ donation.
There is obviously a question of consent!
And it's not really the nicest present you can give your 6 month old son.
I could now be under suspicion for having some illegal organ dealing business.
I might already be under surveillance by the social services.
This is the most interesting thing that has happened to me today.
I've got sketch on in "Melting Pot" tonight at The Stand, so will be going along to hear how it goes.
I don't think it's that great, but it's good to force yourself to write.
I saw "Me and Orson Welles" yesterday, and it's the most I have enjoyed a film for yonks.
I still haven't managed to buy new trainers yet.
It's a scandal.
I noticed that this weekend there are a couple of "Tap O'Lauriston Memorial" events.
I used to work and socialise in this much missed Edinburgh Institution, so may go along to pay my respects.
It was an interesting bar, in that one side of it was very much a traditional "old man" type pub, whilst the other side was a trendy, muso, arty bar.
When you worked there, you effectively worked in both bars, as the service area was circular with the trendy and old-fashioned bars on different sides.
It was hard work, and you could hardly see for smoke...but hey, ...good times!

Born to be Mild

2009-12-04T12:12:00.003Z

So I did my joke about a clipboard facilitating a speedy passage along Princes Street at the Heresy Comedy Club last night.
Nothing.
Not a sausage.
Unprecedented.
That immediately sends a comedy flare up that you should just abandon the script and fool around as much as possible, which
is what I tried to do, with varying degrees of success.
I made some banter with some IT guys about Cobol.
It wasn't very funny.
Who'd have thunk it?
It's a good training exercise.
Mind you, the chuggers on Princes Street seem to have abandoned their trademark clipboards, and are less easily identifiable.
The clipboard has obviously become a loathed symbol of their ilk, and has been replaced by a little badge that you don't notice
until it's too late.
"Excuse me sir!"
Aaarrghh...!
I watched Channel 4 News depressingly document the continuing, seemingly unstoppable, deforestation of the Amazon.
I'd like the whole of Scotland to be covered in trees again just like the good, old days of the "Great Caledonian Forest" (we've only got about 1% of the forest we used to have).
So, couldn't we reforest the whole Highlands, and by doing so get a massive indefinite EEC subsidy for our carbon offsetting, then the population could forever live off the fat of the land, and we'd all live happily ever after.
And by doing so we could help fix the global warming thing.
Just a thought.
I know...but I'm trying to come up with a quick thought every day to keep my brain active.
Right. Xmas Shopping. Go go go.

Resting

2009-12-03T11:03:00.002Z

The problem being "between jobs" at this time of year is the shit weather.
Sometimes I think, I might as well be sheltering in someone else's office using their central heating.
If it was June or July, this enforced leisure period would be much more enjoyable.
But dems da breaks.
Jeff O'Boyle was compering Red Raw at The Stand on Monday.
He informed the audience that there would be a "prize draw".
There is always a prize draw, and the existing convention is that on hearing this news, the audience make an excitable
"woooooooooo!" sound.
Interestingly, I was the only person in the club that night who made an excitable (and very loud) "woooooooooo!' sound.
It was very funny.
You had to be there.
I've always thought of myself as having a relaxed, informal Bohemian style when it comes to dress sense and appearance.
This is a look I've assiduously cultivated through the years.
However, my self-image took a bit of a knock on Monday when I was compared to a "tramp" by two separate individuals of my aquaintance.
I assume the remarks were borne primarily out of jealously, as the accusers themselves are highly unlikely to find themselves in the shortlist for "Best Dressed Person 2009".
Nevertheless, I don't want to be complacent, and am going to buy some new clothes this weekend.
I've now gone 7 weeks without a cigarette, and feel good.
My lungs are cock-a-hoop, but my liver is a bit pissed off at the additional workload that has come its way as a consequence of my decision to bid farewell to Mr Nicotine.
I got through the "Beechers Brook" of the no fags regime ok (ie doing a Thurs/Fri/Sat run at The Stand without succumbing to the temptation of the ritual pre and post-gig cigs).
However, this is just a warm up for the "Festive Period" ; very much the Helmand Province tour for the ex-smoking fraternity.
I was trying to get parked near Causewayside in Edinburgh yesterday without much success.
Then suddenly I came across a street with loads and loads of free "pay and display" spaces.
Something didn't seem right.
Anyway, I parked and approached the meter to buy my 30 minutes of parking time (more than enough, but sensibly buying a little extra in case I got delayed).
So anyway, it turns out you have to buy AT LEAST 3 hours of parking time...for £3.
No wonder the street was empty.
Whose idea was that?
I reluctantly paid the £3 then found out that the sports shop that I was told was a good place to buy trainers, doesn't exist any more.
I just want a bog standard pair of trainers, without lights on them, or big padded heels, or stupid colours, that have astro turf studs on them...but apparently this is impossible.
It's an injustice, it is.

Disappointing

2009-11-19T15:57:00.004Z

I started to watch France v Ireland last night and had an inkling that the Irish were more than capable of pulling off a shock result.
They've got a fantastic togetherness about them, which Scotland occasionally have, but often pathetically don't, (eg last Saturday).
In the end, that controversial goal was hard to take.
I desperately didn't want to witness a "glorious failure" in the Scotland tradition, but I think Ireland's experience eclipsed even Scotland's formidable record in this area.
It's so disappointing that in a match of this stature, the wrong call was made on a huge decision.
There's now an overwhelming case for video technology to be made available to the 4th official, and perhaps use the "2 appeals allowed" system currently in force in tennis.
There is a fair amount of hypocrisy doing the rounds though.
I remember Joe Jordan's handball against Wales which bizarrely resulted in Scotland getting a penalty and scoring the decisive goal that took us to the Argentina World Cup in 1978.
I can't remember a lot of agonising going on in Scotland over the unfairness of the decision against the Welsh, (who were by far the better team on the night).
Although, if time travel became available, I'm sure a few Scots might want to go back and kidnap the referee before the Scotland v Wales match, and hope that a less myopic replacement would give a different decision.
In the end, it might save Scotland from making that harrowing trip to Argentina, and "Ally's Tartan Army" would never have been written, and Andy Cameron would never have appeared on Top of the Pops.
I know you shouldn't meddle with the Space-Time Continuum, but there should surely be some exceptions to this general rule?
Mind you, Archie Gemmil's goal against the Dutch was good...
Hmm...
I'm still not sure what Joe Jordan was trying to do.
I assume he wasn't trying to get a penalty.
I've never seen a decision like that one before or since.
I'll be taking advantage of the fine weather to go for a relaxing drive through to Glasgow tonight, as I'm doing the weekend at The Stand there.
Headlining is one of my all-time comedy heroes, Simon Munnery.

Thursday Thoughts

2009-11-12T13:42:00.002Z

My sketch got a great reaction at "Melting Pot".
I was very happy about this, feeling weirdly nervous about the whole thing as my sketch was introduced.
So I now feel suitably motivated to write some more.
I have plenty of free time to do it...there is no excuse.
I've been watching a bit of "International Bowls" on BBC2 this week.
One of the prominent sponsors on the advertising hoardings is "Co-operative Funeral Services".
This was the first time I have seen a funeral business sponsor a televised sport.
I know that sponsorship is thin on the ground at the moment in light of the prevailing economic climate, but have
the Bowls people really thought this through?
It doesn't exactly make bowls seem like an aspirational lifestyle choice.
The subliminal message seems to be "why not have a game of bowls? oh and btw you're going to die soon ...".
Where do you draw the line though?
Would they also accept sponsorship from "Incontinence Pants R Us"?
It might be an idea to stipulate that the competing players dress up as "Grim Reapers" to reinforce the brand sponsorship?
I think that funeral advertising would work better on Motorway signs, bottles of whisky, packets of cigarettes, the summits of mountains and comedy club green rooms.
At least these activities have a more obvious link with the death thing.
The problem is that people don't really like being reminded that there is a sport called bowls, and that we will all watch it accidentally one day.
There's a universal squeamishness about this subject.
But there's no way you can avoid it.

Never Knowingly Underwater

2009-11-10T11:07:00.002Z

That's the working title for my debut solo show at the Glasgow Comedy Festival in March next year.
It makes me laugh, but that is no guarantee of anything.
Other news.
I've extended my unbeaten run of golf challenges against Bob Hind to 3 matches.
I thought you might be interested in that impressive statistic.
We've started playing a regular game at Braid Hills of a Monday morning.
It's a great start to the week, and the views over Edinburgh were amazing in the bright autumnal sunshine.
You can never really get blase about stuff like that.

I've written a few bits and pieces and am getting one of my sketches performed at "Melting Pot" at The Stand tomorrow night.
I'm slightly apprehensive about what "death by proxy" might feel like, if it bombs.

And through the letterbox has just arrived, "The Rhythm Method".
Yes, it's the memoirs of erstwhile "Revillos" drummer, Rocky Rhythm, aka Nicky Forbes.
I was an obsessive Rezillos/Revillos fan, and got to know the band and their entourage fairly well, way back in the day.
I am looking forward to reading some warts and all retelling of the anecdotes of these halcyon days.

Nearly 4 weeks of no cigarettes.
I am now feeling slightly healthier, I think.
I'm going to try and sign up for a Smoking Cessation Group.
I think I could probably manage ok on my own, but I'm interested in getting involved and seeing how it's run.

Comedy Gospel

2009-11-06T23:22:00.001Z

"Comedy criticism is basically what a cunt thought of something they didn’t understand"
Frankie Boyle.

Amen.

So anyway...

2009-11-06T14:22:00.002Z

I haven't smoked for 3 weeks...
Do I feel any different?
No...
Oh well, at least I've saved some cash.
I've been spending a lot of time trying to write various things. It's hard, really hard.
I have a lot of stuff, but have no idea whether any of it is funny or not.
Someone passed me a video of a typical day in a Factory Egg Farm type place.
Hideous.
The sight of a continuous conveyor belt of "commercially valueless" live male chicks getting dropped into a grinding machine has put me right off eggs.
It's the way no concession is made whatsoever that these are living creatures that really sticks in the craw.
I don't have a problem eating animals that are reared humanely, then stunned and slaughtered.
And yes, amn't I great?
It's ironic in that a lot of "vegetarians" will happily eat eggs.
And, oh shit, eggs get used in cakes don't they?
And omelettes...
Jeezo...
Anyway, on that hilarious note, I had a fun gig at the "Queens Retreat" in South Queensferry this week.
This was my venue of choice for underage drinking when I lived in SQ.
Underaged beer is the best tasting beer you will ever taste...Nectar of the gods.
(obviously I'm not going to extend this metaphor)
They must have been very relaxed about things.
I didn't even look 18 when I was 18.
Funnily enough, the decor in the bar is pretty much exactly the same as I'd remembered it.
Well if it ain't broke, don't fix it...that's what I say.
JoJo Sutherland runs a really great comedy night there, with a great regular crowd who are well up for the comedy thing.
I left my clipboard in the bar though.
Was this a subconscious decision to free myself from its clutches?
I'm looking forward to seeing Miles Jupp get bollocked by Peter Capaldi in "In The Thick of It" on Saturday.
I can just imagine the chemistry being really funny there.
I read Frankie Boyle's autobiography.
Very funny.
The complete absence of hyperbole is impressive.
He just routinely describes the different stages of his successful career in a matter-of-fact way, and throws in a lot of
his trademark acerbic descriptions.
(it makes my self-congratulatory prose on doing a good 5 minutes at Red Raw seem horribly embarassing. Perhaps it's better just to concentrate on writing jokes and let others say whether it's any good or not)
His affectionate tribute to The Stand's Chris Cooper as "..a frighteningly degraded-looking 26. He looked like a 26 -year-old man from the Middle Ages and spoke in a low, rasping, sexualised whisper." caused me to nearly fall off my seat laughing.
I know Chris will have been equally amused.
At the same time I was reading Michael Palin's diaries.
This was with his permission though, as he's published them in a book.
You could hardly get two more different author perspectives, but they were both absolutely compelling reads.
I am now making soup.
I am loving the not-having-a-proper-job-thing.

Stretching credulity

2009-11-02T17:10:00.010Z

So what do you think the connection shared by these celebrities?
Yes, you're absolutely right!
They are indeed "celebrities" whom people have said that I "remind them of".
I swear to god this is true...
I sense that the alleged "Marlon Brando" similarity will generate the biggest communal guffaw....
This was said to me by a girl I met in Peru.
In fairness, she was no obviously no stranger to recreational drugs, and I feel this may have slightly skewed her judgement.
I also neglected to establish whether she was referring to the smouldering, dangerous sexuality of the young Brando, or
whether she meant the elderly Brando in "The Godfather" who has a cardiac arrest in his garden, pretending to be a monster to his grandson, with a bit of orange peel in his mouth.
I'll never know.
I'm assuming it's the former.
The others are Frank Skinner, James Woods, Steptoe, Richard E. Grant & Geoffrey Rush.
Having finished my IT contract, I now have a lot more time on my hands.
Could you have guessed this?
If I had to pick I'd take the Christopher Lambert one, and to be honest, I can't really see the Steptoe likeness at all.
I think that was just said as a poorly conceived joke.
I'm not delusional, so don't start questioning my sanity...
It's a relief to have finished my contract, and I'll never be able to say that I miss the social aspect of the job.
This is mainly because, there never was any social aspect to the job.
Not a lot of fun at all.
Other than that, there was a big get-together in the Oxford Bar last week.
My friend David reminded me yet again that I once brought too much curry on a hillwalking trip.
Every time he recounts this anecdote, it just gets funnier and funnier and funnier.
Little did I know that my fateful decision to bring a little too much curry on a hillwalking trip would provide years and years of unending amusement.
And apparently, I went to sleep straight after the walk too!
Comedy...it's a funny old game...!
I am on tomorrow night at the "Queens Retreat" in South Queensferry, if you want to talk to me about why I decided to bring
a little too much curry on a hillwalking trip.
It's good to feel chipper again though.
I was ill for virtually the whole of October.
Illness is, first and foremost, boring as hell.
I reckon I had swine flu, then followed it up with some exotic cold/throat infection which I picked up on the flight back from Spain.

A bit knackered...

2009-09-26T19:22:00.004+01:00

t’s been a busy week.
I’ve been gigging in Aberdeen and Glasgow (both great gigs), then did a spot at Jongleurs in Edinburgh last night.
It went ok, but it wasn’t spectacular.
It’s a pretty tough room to play ; a long rectangle with the stage in the middle.
The opening 20 act, who I think is hilarious, was not getting much of a reaction at all.
I bemused them initially, but finished pretty strongly.
I’d never set foot in this club before, so it was something of a culture shock.
The staff are great though and can’t do enough for you ; free drinks and food and all that.
I’d like to do it again though, as all of the comics agreed that last night’s audience was severe hard work.
I was thinking of trying some joke about how I was the new European welterweight boxing champion, having
just beaten the reigning Spanish champion the previous evening.
Just before the bell went, I got my trainer to sneak behind the champ at his corner, and stick two long spikes with feathers on them into the back ofhis neck.
I then got a friend of mine to ride a horse into the ring and poke him on the back several times with a big sharp lance thing.
He was quite startled by this, and I capitalised on his distraction and strode across and biffed him,
knocking him out.
I still say it was a fair fight.
Probably just as well, I didn’t try that last night.
The fact that someone put another “Downfall” spoof on youtube, this time with an Edinburgh Trams theme, has massively increased the hit rate of our TSOTT video. (It appears on the same frame when you view the “Downfall” one).
I wouldn’t call it a viral phenomenum quite yet, but we have now accrued more views than the “official” trams video which we initially used for our spoofery.
I actually suggested to my erstwhile TSOTT colleagues that we should now maybe capitalise on the brand awareness and write a sketch show purely about the Trams fiasco!
It would act as a form of redemption in view of all the pelters we took for our lack of trams content.
Sadly, I was told to “fuck off” in so many words, and that they never wanted to have anything ever to do with trams again.
Bastards!
This is a sad loss, isn’t it?
What?
Oh fuck off, that’s a terrible attitude!
No, it's ok...I fully understand.
I saw Billy Connolly three times last week at the Usher Hall in Edinburgh.
That may seem a bit mental to some people, but I don’t know how many more tours he’ll be doing.
He’s 66 now, you know.
Anyway, I’d say 60-70% of the material each night was new.
He did about 2 hours 10 mins each night without a break ; of pure stand-up.
It’s pretty extraordinary stuff.
It felt odd to have just stumbled on some tickets on the Usher Hall’s web site the night before ; then to find
myself sitting in the front row, when all the concerts had apparently been “sold out” for months.
Strange.
I watched a bit of the SCOTY Gong show, after my “Fourplay” gig in Glasgow.
I was expecting a bearpit but it was disappointingly civilised.
So there you go!

IT Pin-up boy

2009-09-14T20:27:00.002+01:00

So anyway, I hated the idea of getting a great big photo on myself on the back page of my work's in-house corporate magazine thing.
However, I convinced myself that it was going to be good publicity for "The Silence of the Trams" show, and agreed to go ahead with it.
Unfortunately, publication was delayed, and the magazine came out A WEEK AFTER the show had finished.
Marvelous...
So in the end, we got no publicity benefit from this whatsoever, and I have to put up with my big, stupid face looking at me from hundreds of copies of the magazine scattered throughout the office.
I've decided to punch the next person in the face who passes me in the office and says "tell me a joke, funny man!".
My cover's been blown, and life will never be the same again in my present workplace.
It's not the best photo I've ever seen of me either.
I'm sporting a ridiculous, self-satisfied smirk.
The only way that a decent photo can be taken of me involves a total ignorance on my part that someone is pointing a camera at me.
Something terrible happens as soon as I pose for a photo.
I used to deliberately do ridiculous toothy grins for school photos to sabotage the shot, and it appears that I never managed to re-adjust my camera image to look natural again.
It's also worth pointing out that the magazine itself is fairly tedious.
In it you can find out interesting facts about the Financial Accounting Section, and read a quick interview with the deputy-manager of the department.
Usually, they've got ambitions to play a round of golf with Tiger Woods, and say that their ideal dinner companions would be Linda Lusardi ("because she's lovely!") and Henry VIII ("because he'd have lot's of interesting stories!").
And apparently "the staff of a company are its most important asset!"
This makes me feel valued, and almost makes it up for having my photo everywhere.
Kanye West may well feel like a complete twat after his impromptu awards speech, but it's trivial compared to my embarassment.
It's tough on Kanye though.
There's nothing worse than trying to be noble to impress a lady, and you just end up embarassing her.
I've got a rich experience of such gestures.
I remember trying to be cool on my new moped in front of an object of my desire, but managed to hit the kerb and fall off the aforementioned vehicle right in front of her.
But even that wasn't as bad as this magazine thing.

September

2009-09-13T15:35:00.005+01:00

Looks like this is turning into a monthly blog.
Pathetic.
I'm still slightly frazzled in the aftermath of the Fringe.
Even more pathetic.
So anyway, "The Silence of the Trams" ; the verdict?
Well, the number of tickets we sold was way, way beyond our most ambitious hopes.
We got a mention in Tommy Sheppard's post-Fringe press statement.
We had 3 reviews ; one was decent and 2 were dreadful.
Some people dismiss reviews as "just one person's opinion".
I think that's true in certain cases, but if the writer is knowledgeable and has a respect in the comedy business, then it's
delusional to completely discard what they have to say about you.
I've completely discarded what they had to say about us.
Our reviewer from Festmag, Sarah D'Arcy, attended on one of our best nights.
She sat in the front row, continuously writing copious notes on an A4 notebook , and laughed heartily throughout the show ; then gave us a right kicking in the review.
The reviewer in The Skinny, Rebecca Gordon, also came on a really good night, and then proceeded to hammer us.
Both of them seemed to be outraged that the show wasn't entirely about trams.
Imagine that...a Fringe show with a funny title, that doesn't correspond precisely with the whole content of the show.
I've never seen that done before!...Unprecedented...!
(Although the Evening News stitched us up by intimating that the show was purely about trams, but who takes seriously anything that is written in the Evening News?)
The skinny reviewer is also a self-styled "film reviewer" but "has never seen Citizen Kane" and recently watched "Love Actually" for "about the millionth time" ; according to her Blog.
No more questions, your honour.
I'm not bitter though...not at all...no, really!
I had a load of friends come along, and cringed inside slightly as I knew they'd heard much of the material many times before.
I feel their pain.
The problem is that the majority of the audience hadn't seen us before, so you want to use your strongest, bankable stuff.
But having churned it out for a month, I'm committed to binning most the old favourites and becoming a born-again comedian.
On the plus side it was great fun and a fantastic honour to do a show as part of the Stand Fringe programme.
There's hundreds of comedians who would kill to get a Fringe spot with them, so we appreciate how lucky we were to get invited.
I should have gone to see more Fringe stuff, but working during the day killed me.
I saw "Camille O'Sullivan" and was completely blown away by her.
She did a load of my favourite songs (Bowie, Jaques Brel,Tom Waits), and managed to make an incredible emotional connection with the audience, the likes of which I hadn't previously witnessed in my puff.
Unfortunately, Scottish comedy's Gordon Alexander wasn't as impressed as me, and his demeanor during the show was akin to him watching Grimsby Town lose a relegation dog-fight, six-pointer at home to Hull City.
Jo Caulfield made me laugh by describing how some Japanese people had walked out of her show after 5 minutes.
They went to the box-office and complained ;
"We were expecting a "performance", but it was just a woman talking on the stage".
So there you go...
I was looking through some of my Dad's old books last night, and came across a biography of the RAF's famous wartime pilot, Sir Douglas Bader,"Flying Colours".
He must have bought this in a charity shop, as someone has made written notes on some of the pages, and it is not my dad's handwriting.
My favourite "note" is on page 204.
It states "Bader was still hated in the RAF in the sixties. He was a big-headed, snobbish, little bastard".
This made me cackle with laughter.
I must try to get out more.
Other notes I liked were ;
"The middle/upper class get the gongs and knighthoods. The erks get fuckall"
"Did Spike Milligan write this book?"
Maybe this was an angry ex-RAF man who made these comments and gave the book to a charity shop so that his views would become more widely circulated.

Sunday

2009-08-10T14:53:00.004+01:00

Disappointingly, there was one empty seat at last night's TSOTT show...
There it was at the back,staring at us contemptuously...
Our run of sell-outs had to come to an end sometime.
The other TSOTT boys were initially refusing to go on... giving it the big Diva stuff...
"We only perform to FULL HOUSES..." they shrieked through hysterical tears.
Thankfully, I managed to persuade them that this was the wrong attitude, and that it was churlish to blame this audience for the "one empty seat" fiasco.

We had a problem connecting the laptop to the digital projector, and as a result I had to stand in front of the audience holding up the laptop to play the Trams video.
It was all very comical, and I really enjoyed watching the audience reaction to it...they loved it.
I had by a long way my best gig of the run....
Afterwards, it was straight through to Glasgow and a spot at the Glasgow Stand.
It was probably the best ever gig I have had there, putting the cap on a
great day.

I ended up giving fellow comics Paddy Lennox and Jason John Whitehead a lift back to Edinburgh.
As we left the Stand there was a full-on monsoon in progress.
I hate doing the M8 in torrential rain late at night.
Never a pleasant driving experience.
The comedy gods had obviously decided that my day had just gone too well, and that I needed some adversity.
This came initially with the discovery that that the East-bound slip road onto the M8 at Charing Cross was coned off.
I'm not that familiar with driving in Glasgow, but located an alternative M8 slip road, and it too was coned off.
Then I got lost. (didn't have the sat nav with me...didn't think I needed it!)
I drove around somewhere in Glasgow for about 45 minutes trying to find my bearings.
It's fair to say that, the torrential rain wasn't helping matters.
Eventually,found a way onto the M8 at got home at about 1.15am.
knackered.
I was so wired from the horrible torrential rain M8 driving experience that I couldn't get to sleep and was lying awake at 4.00am.
I am now feeling very dozy...
It's an early night tonight, that's for sure.

I haven't eaten anything but sushi for the last 4 days.
It's the ideal Fringe fuel.
It keeps you going and feeling sharp without any bloatedness.
I think I could live off it all the time.
My wallet might disagree though.
And traditionally at the Fringe, the pounds have started slipping off, as one meal a day seems to suffice.
(it all goes wrong in September though, when I start eating like a bear emerging from hibernation)

And they're off....

2009-08-08T12:11:00.005+01:00

We had our first night “proper” of the TSOTT run last night.
Another sell-out.
Another sauna.
A few jokey heat references this time to make light of the desperate discomfort.
I enjoyed the gig a lot more than the previous night, feeling a lot looser and relaxed.
As of last year the esteemed publication “Three Weeks” sent a reviewer to see our show on the FIRST NIGHT of the run.
I don’t really feel any great anxiety about reviews like I used to.
I’ve had some great ones this year, and also some complete stinkers.
Kipling was right...
Although, obviously I’d prefer if the reviews were all great, of course….
I'm not STUPID.

It’s funny how the stress levels are so low (with the occasional exception, eg Gordon having to get a taxi from the venue to his flat and back ; 25 minutes from showtime, to get a laptop) to previous Fringes.
It’s now a fairly seamless routine, to get in, give the running order to Erik the Tech, play the Trams Video, activate the virtual compere, do your act, present the prize draw then go home.
Last year we seemed to spend hours looking for missing cds, props, organising guest spots, etc etc
It all seems so organised now. Bliss.
And, it has to be said it’s an incredible honour and privilege to be part of the Stand Fringe programme.
We appreciate we’re really lucky to be given this opportunity, and are desperate to make the show as successful as possible.
Ideally, I would like to be stretching myself a bit more in terms of doing longer sets.
We are all capable of doing longer sets, but because of the restrictions of a 4 man show in an hour, it’s always going to have to be a fairly tight set.
I’m constantly tweaking and trying out new little bits every day though, so it’s great to have a long run of gigs
to be able to do this.
When Tommy Sheppard did his traditional speech at The Stand Fringe Press Launch, he was very critical of the inflexibility of the Council and the massive disruption that the current state of the Tram works were causing to the hosting of the Fringe in Edinburgh.
At this point we glanced at each other thinking that this could well lead to a link to plug our show…
But anyway, it wasn’t, and afterwards we laughed at our misplaced, self-importance.
We’re “Plankton And Proud!”:-)
The ticket sales seems to be going really well anyway, so mustn’t grumble!

I toyed with the idea of going to see The Stranglers at the Picture House last night, but felt too weary in the end.
Reading an Evening News article on said band earlier in the day, I was somewhat shocked to discover that the drummer
Jet Black is now “in his seventies”.
Jesus!
It was one of these moments when the passage of time really hit me.
Fair play to him though…!

I ended up having a couple of pints with star of the hit 2005 Edinburgh Fringe spectacular “Park’s Circus” ; Mr Tony Wilkes.
He then missed his train (apparently the late Glasgow trains don’t stop at Haymarket), and crashed at Chateau Parky.

TSOTT begins

2009-07-30T09:19:00.001+01:00

We had our first preview for TSOTT at the Traverse theatre on Monday night.
68 paying punters rolled in which was way more than we had anticipated.
Alas, we couldn’t show our intro Tram spoof video due to technological constraints, but the show was generally well-received and it was certainly a worthwhile outing.
It’s clear that the show name was what got the punters in, rather than the individuals involved in it, (even though we are all brilliantly funny…obviously).
I’d also imagine that there was very possibly, a certain degree of disappointment amongst a proportion of the audience,that the show wasn’t entirely devoted to lampooning the saga that the Edinburgh Trams Project has developed into.
The challenge we face is to make the show so funny, that people ultimately won’t mind that the show didn’t quite fit into their pre-conceived idea of what it was all about.
It’s handy that the name attracts people, but we need to get a good word-of-mouth going from these punters to really get the box-office zinging.
I reckon that by the end of August, neither myself, Jeff O’Boyle, Martin McAllister or Gordon Alexander will want to set eyes on one another for at least 6 months, or wish to hear any of each other’s material ever again.
That’s my prediction.
They intensely irritate me already and we haven’t even started the run yet.
It’s not their fault though…they just don’t realise how naturally irritating they are.
Maybe I should mention it to them sometime?
Other news, I have bought an Apple Mac.
I have finally summoned the courage to tell Bill Gates to “step off”.
Is it too late for me to re-train in the way of the Mac?
Who knows…the point is I really hate “Windows” and always have done.
I only justified sticking to a PC because I’m generally using a PC at work.
Now, however, the IT freelance market is on the point of collapse, so it’s maybe time to move on and do something else.
Maybe I’ll write a best-selling guide on switching from one to another “with hilarious consequences”.

That's what friends are for...

2009-07-25T12:06:00.005+01:00

So anyway, I did this gig at The Stand a few weeks ago.
It was a Sunday night and I had a 10 minute open spot.
I made up my mind to try out some completely new material.
Shortly after arriving at the club, I was told there were 2 reviewers in.
One of them was the Daily Record.
After a bit of thought, I decided to press on with my original plan, and just go with some new stuff.
There were 6 acts on the bill, so if it went badly I'd most likely be ignored, as most of the review would probably concentrate on the legendary Phil Nichol, who was headlining.
I'd say trying out new material is a bit like asking someone out on a date when you are by no means certain what the response will be.
It's also difficult to do it confidently in front of an audience of strangers.
So I do the gig...it doesn't go particularly well.
Most of the acts were in agreement that it was a very quiet audience, and it was a night where everyone had to work hard for the laughs.
In a way it was probably an ideal night to try out new material, because if it had gone over really well with that audience, then it was obviously comedy dynamite you had on your hands.
Weeks passed, and I forgot about the Daily Record review.
I'd done a bit of googling but there was no sign of it.
My good friend Billy came to the rescue.
His girlfriend had spotted it in the Daily Record, and Billy was helpful enough to read it to me on the phone.
He is a kindly soul.
What became immediately apparent was that the reviewer only talked about 2 acts from the 6 who were on.
This was myself and the headliner Phil Nichol.
Surprisingly, he'd actually written more words about me than Phil.
Anyway, here it is......

"As Frank Carson endlessly pointed out, the way you tell 'em often matters more than the material itself when it comes to being funny.
Carson's advice sprung to mind while watching Jim Park, one of half a dozen acts at the Sunday night package show.
Jim has a neat line in oddball oneliners but cunningly manages to deliver each and every one of them absolutely stillborn. Deadpan just doesn't do him justice.
Presented with more vim,verve and structure, or possibly by someone else, his surreal gags could slay an audience.
Instead, he left this one looking confused and slightly embarassed for him.
Cruelly, the more Jim died on stage, the funnier I found his act, to the point where I began to wonder if he was deliberately sabotaging his own set.
I laughed until I cried but I suspect it was for all the wrong reasons."

When you get a "rave" review like that, the first thing your comedy training tells you to do is look for a quotable quote...
"I laughed until I cried" Daily Record, is the one that stands out.
(I have misquoted it slightly on my web page, but taken from the Daily Record, there's an amusing irony in that)
There's also "a neat line in oddball oneliners" "surreal gags...slay an audience"
So that's all positive.
I can't really regret trying out a load of new stuff with reviewers in.
I think if I'd gone for the tried and tested and had a solid gig, I wouldn't have been mentioned.
Elaine Malcolmson and Jeff O'Boyle had top gigs I thought, but didn't warrant a mention by Mr Jonathan Trew.
He'd obviously wanted a sacrificial lamb to use in his "Frank Carson" themed piece, and I assumed that role.
So, yes, it's a bit unfair, but he still has a point.
I was talking to a UK comedy mogul recently, and he said he really liked my stuff, but that I needed a greater stylisation in the delivery if I was to climb further up the comedy ladder.
We have a preview of "The Silence of the Trams" at the Traverse Theatre on Mon 27th July.
Feel free to come along and watch me "deliberately sabotage" the show... :-)

Thoughts

2009-06-30T16:37:00.002+01:00

Well it looks like, for the first time ever, I’m on course to get through a series of “Big Brother” without watching ANY of it…
I am very proud.
It is one of my finest achievements.
By not watching any of it, I am sending out a powerful message to Channel 4 that as a product, “Big Brother” is finished.
This has to be the last series.
I watched Andy Murray impersonating Tim Henman last night…it was quite convincing.
Tennis can be entertaining, but there’s far too much faffing about.
If I was in charge, I’d make the following rule amendments ;
You’ve got only one service…and if it hits the net cord and lands in play, THEN JUST PLAY ON…!
(all this “First Service”, “Second Service”, “Let” is a big waste of time…)
From now on you get to sit down at the end of a SET not every TWO bleeding GAMES.
Come on…! You’re athletes…not Chelsea Fucking Pensioners.
Furthermore, you’re only allowed to dab a towel on your face once every twenty minutes.
If you break strings in your racket you just have to carry on with it.
Look after your equipment!
If they’d have introduced these rules before last night’s game, it would have finished two hours earlier, and we might have achieved more at out TSOTT strategy meeting.
This week it’s become clear that Edinburgh has decided to stop being known as the “Athens of the North” , and is now competing for the title of “The San Francisco of the East”.
San Francisco is famous for Trams as well…
This could form the basis for our satirical Tram show.
or maybe not.

FF Row

2009-06-29T16:40:00.004+01:00

There was an article on “The Silence of the Trams” in the Evening News on Saturday.
I look on it as an empirical test of the theory “There is no such thing as bad publicity”.
On the positive side, it’s almost a full page in the newspaper, and in terms of Fringe publicity, very valuable.
On the debit side, I fear we come across as a bunch of tossers…but maybe we are a bunch of tossers.
The article implies that the show is entirely devoted to Trams.
We never said this, but at the same time, I’m not stupid and realise that they were always going to emphasize
the Tram angle as they know that it’s a hot, local topic.
We’ll have a few tram references of course, but I just hope people aren’t disappointed that it’s not an hour-long satirical revue on Edinburgh Trams.
It’ll probably be a good idea to make fun of the lack of tram references.
I sent 300 “TSOTT” promotional emails last night as I went through all the historic entries in my yahoo address book.
I’d no idea who many of them were, and I suspect there may be a bit of confusion from some of the recipients as to who I am.
I’d joked before doing this, that some of my old contacts may not actually be around any more.
Unfortunately this turned out to be tragically true.
My email to old snowboarding buddy Paul McCrae bounced from his Westminster Council email address.
I thought I’d do a quick Google to see if I could find an alternate contact address for him.
I was then stunned to find a “Just Giving” page set up “in memory of”.
I stayed at a snowboard chalet with Paul and his girlfriend Fiona a few years ago, and principally remember spending the whole of that week continuously laughing.
My snowboarding was largely rubbish, but the banter was spectacular.
He was an incredibly warm, full-on funny guy, and I find it very hard to take in that he’s not around any more.

On a lighter note, I spent a recent weekend golfing in Northern Ireland.
Again the actual “sport” aspect of the holiday was fairly dreadful in terms of my individual performance ; however, there were a few amusing off-course moments.
I’ve never seen a hotel more anxious to get the money for accommodation paid as quickly as possible.
In a way I was impressed, as they obviously regarded our party of “golfers” as capable of larging it up and causing wanton destruction to the hotel, when in fact, we neither have the energy nor the inclination for that kind of stuff any more.
Interestingly, the founder of the hotel had obviously done a fair amount of animal slaughter in Africa judging by the abundance of animal heads on the walls, (as well as a stuffed tiger in a glass cage).
I was interested to spot 2 antelopes arses on the wall as well (with a drink dispenser emerging from a predictable source).
This isn’t something you see every day.
Another talking point occurred on the Saturday night.
It was a fairly large hotel with about 8 different bars, as well as a couple of club-type bars which attracted top local youth in their hundreds.
At one point, along with about 50 other people, I found myself in the “smoking area” ; a roofless ante room to the main club bar.
I was talking there to fellow golfer Calum.
He stopped in mid-sentence with a vaguely startled expression on his face.
I looked around and saw a young couple sitting on a bench snogging.
Nothing unusual about that per se….
However, as my eyes descended, I noticed that the gentleman’s forearm had disappeared under the lady’s skirt.
The arm movement was akin to a lead violinist playing “The William Tell Overture”.
There’s not really any way you can dress this up…
This was a public act of energetic fingering...
A bouncer intervened and informed “Romeo” that his actions were “inappropriate”.
Stunned by this spectacle, we left…then tried to explain our gobsmacked expressions to the rest of the party.
This isn’t what Jane Austen had in mind, surely?

Anyone still there?

2009-06-15T22:42:00.004+01:00

I've been neglecting the poor old Blog...
I can't apologise enough to you both...
It's lazy, lazy, lazy.
Anyway, I felt a chill today as I read the sad news that someone had a fatal fall on Clachaig Gully at the weekend.
The location of this accident is on (what I am now aware is) the dangerous, inadvisable descent from the frankly, terrifying Aonoch Eagath ridge walk at Glencoe.
There is a much safer way down, but stupidly neither I nor my companions on that day decided to take it.
I didn't even realise that the Clachaig Gully route down was dangerous anyway.
The problem is that it leads straight down to the Clachaig Inn, and on intial inspection appears a fairly straightforward descent to the pub and the enticing prospect of a delicious cold beer.
It had been a blistering hot day, we'd run out of water half way across the ridge (clever) ;I was dehydrated and my knees were tired and aching.
The path down is badly eroded with large sections of scree.
I fell over loads of times on the way down, as my feet repeatedly gave way in the scree.
I didn't think much of it at the time, but what I didn't realise was that, slightly disguised by high grass, was a several hundred foot drop which was literally inches from where I was frequently losing balance.
What an idiot.
Never go up mountains without a map.
On a brighter note, we ran a TSOTT preview as part of the "Leith Festival".
It was a sell-out and we ended up having to turn away about 40 people.
(We put an extra show on later on)
It was a great night, great crowd. Quite remarkable!
This is really encouraging and hopefully bodes well for the marketability of our Fringe run.
On a less brighter note I had a near-death experience at a comedy club in Glasgow on Friday at a place where I'd had a stormer on my last visit.
This brought to an end a great run of really rocking gigs.
So one duff gig after ten great ones should be put into some kind of perspective, shouldn't it?
Of course not, that would be too logical. I'm pissed off about it. Curses.
The main reason that I'm starting to write this again is to try and get some creative energy going to write some new material.
I tried a few things last week with variable results.

Ding ding! All aboard...

2009-05-04T14:53:00.002+01:00

If you have ever walked around all day with a pit bull terrier’s jaws locked onto your calf muscle, than you have an inkling of what it is like to have presented funnyman Gordon Alexander with a tempting opportunity to take the mickey out of you in a sustained attack.
Gordon’s attention had been captured by my “QI” warm-up spots posting.
He spent most of yesterday, casting doubt on the veracity of my tragic tale of missed opportunity and heartbreak.
We were forced together, as yesterday was the photoshoot for our upcoming show “The Silence of the Trams” ; now forever referred to as “TSOTT”.
I took the opportunity to dress up as a “tram conductor”, complete with a false moustache and a camp hat.
There are people who may think that the “QI” anecdote was a crude episode of self-promotion…a desperate, cloying attempt to take something positive from a day of disappointment by hoping that the disclosure, that I was within a million miles of being selected for a job of this nature, might inflate my comedy profile, and cause the conservative, small-minded Scottish promoters who consistently pass me over for gigs, to think again and re-evaluate my comedy status, (I’m joking…I’m joking…).
Nothing could be further from the truth.
It’s warts and all on this blog, and, of course, everyone knows that disasters make much better reading than success stories.
I have just experienced two dropping incidents in two days.
Last night I dropped a pint glass during Billy Kirkwood’s impressive set at The Stand.
The glass, thankfully, didn’t smash, but everyone turned and stared at me disapprovingly, which I found very unsettling.
Then today at work I dropped a carton of tea, causing mayhem. Losing my grip? (on reality?)
I didn’t get where I am today by dropping a pint of lager and a cup of tea, on consecutive days.
We got a little mention in the Evening News…
http://edinburghnews.scotsman.com/opinion/Liam-Rudden39s-Fringe-Firsts.5227716.jp
I particularly liked the “finest young comedians” bit.

Almost quite interesting....

2009-05-01T11:57:00.002+01:00

I got an email yesterday from the Hackney Empire people.
It was confirming a couple of gigs (one of them doing an extended set back at the Hackney Empire “Best of Hackney New Act of the Year” show on July 18th ; I’m looking forward to that!).
They also went on to ask if I’d be interested in doing warm-up spots for the studio audience of the BBC show “QI”.
Apparently, the “QI” people had been at the Hackney final and were “very impressed”, and had asked about my availability.
I said I was interested, after picking myself up off the floor.
I then made the classic mistake of telling a few people about the “QI” thing, and then got another email later that day to say that unfortunately they’d already filled the spots.
I wilfully broke the law concerning talking about something before it was a done deal.
Idiot.
The initial email had been in my inbox for a few hours before I had the chance to read it, so perhaps I missed the boat timewise.
Gutted.
Still, it was flattering to be considered for such a position, and hopefully I’ll get another opportunity.
We’ve recently been spending some time sorting out all the Park memorabilia which has been stored away in my sister’s flat.
Being involved in this process stirs up a lot of emotions.
There were a lot of laughs, but also a great many poignant moments.
There was some hilarity when an old diary belonging to my Gran was discovered.
One entry concerned my sister and I and read ; “Jim and Janie came to visit me. It was nice to see Janie”.
Now, my interpretation of this was that my Gran mentioned “it was nice to see Janie” because she wasn’t as regular a visitor as I was,
and that her happiness at my presence didn’t need to be explicitly remarked upon, as I was pretty much the favourite Grandchild who was constantly doted on, (well this is my clear recollection anyway).
A visit from Janie was a rarer event, and this is obviously what Gran is alluding to.
She was too busy going to parties and hanging out with freaks.
What worried me was thinking, that if I was to become a famous comedian/national-treasure-type figure, some BBC commissioning editor
might decide, in the future, to commission yet another mean-spirited BBC bio-pic on a British comedian.
They’d be researching my life, and on finding this diary, would wrongly assume that my Gran couldn’t stand the sight of me, and would
no doubt feature this in the film as one of the many indicators of the private tragedy behind funnyman Jim Park’s chirpy demeanor.
Obviously, I’ll have to make sure I write a tedious autobiography to counter such possible misconceptions.
(suggested titles? “No Parking!”, “Just Jim!”, hmmm…very poor)
But there were also sadder things.
There was a stack of “Get Well” cards that the kids at my Mum’s school had made for her when she was ill.
The cards had obviously meant a lot to my mum.
We were trying to be ruthless with a lot of the stuff, but couldn’t bring ourselves to bin things like this ; even though they were painful to read.
We also found an old cassette tape with a Park party going on in the background…lots of laughter, singing songs round the piano.
I heard myself playing a medley of tunes on the piano at the party.
There was “Sleepy Shores” (my piece of resistance) as well as (very ironically) “The Sash My Father Wore” and “Derry’s Walls”.
I did this mainly to annoy my Dad who was raised a catholic, and couldn’t stand Rangers.
I’ll always remember his face when my Grandpa gave me a Rangers LP for my 8th birthday with all the usual delightful, sectarian bilge on it.
Although, at the time, I thought it was great and played the record incessantly.
Then we read this by successful Edinburgh singer/songwriter Kim Edgar.
We were all really touched by how she regarded my mum as such an inspirational figure.

Walking

2009-04-29T16:04:00.001+01:00

I did a couple of days walking the West Highland Way last week.
It was a charity event organised by The Stand to benefit “Barnardos”.
The weather was glorious, and the walk down the whole length of Loch Lomond from Inverarnan to Drymen was spectacularly beautiful.
Well that's all very well, but where were the funnies?
I'd say, the Inversnaid Hotel "lunch experience" deserves a mention.
It’s situated about half-way down the east side of the Loch and immediately brings to mind the building in “The Shining”.
3 of us arrived and made our way to the bar to order lunch.
I was told to remember that my order was “order number 1”.
I was a little surprised that a numbering system was being used, mainly due to the fact we were the only people who on the premises.
We sat outside and awaited our order.
About twenty minutes later a waitress appeared carried two dishes.
Is this for “number 1” I said helpfully.
“What?”
“I was told to remember that we were order number 1!”
“What?
“It’s our order number…number 1”
“You’re number 1? I don’t know what you mean…”
“The barman told me to remember our food order was number 1”
This went on for quite a while…
Eventually, it was firmly established that the food was for us…
However there were only 2 dishes…we were short of one plate of fish and chips…
“I’ll get another one” she said.
Twenty minutes later there was still no sign of my fish and chips.
I decided to go and find out what was happening.
I am an alpha male.
I saw the waitress in question chatting merrily to the receptionist.
“Hello. I just wandered when I was getting my fish and chips?”
“Oh! I’m sorry! I completely forgot! I’ll order it now! I’m sorry…”
I was too stunned to react angrily.
Now these things will happen occasionally in any restaurant.
Admittedly, it is unusual to happen in a restaurant when there is only one table being occupied by customers.
That takes a superior level of incompetence to carry off successfully.
It must be fairly manic in there when they’ve got two, or maybe even three, tables to deal with at a time.
After a couple of minutes reflection, I did feel like smashing the door to the kitchen with an axe, sticking my
head through the hole and shouting “Here’s Jimmy!”, but would that have speeded up the preparation of my fish and chips?
I don’t know…perhaps?
I also found it amusing that many of the people we passed coming in the opposite direction described the walk they’d just done
in terms comparable to a final push for the summit of K2.
Although it is fair to say though that there was the odd exposed 6ft drop, and once we had to use our hands to scramble over a
small boulder.
At this point my life did flash before me.
But overall it was a right old laugh, and I’d like to do the whole thing at some point, and have a dessert at the Inversnaid Hotel.

Yorkshire Tour

2009-04-21T16:30:00.001+01:00

I had a one date Yorkshire Comedy Tour last week in Beverley.
The gig itself was great ; although not so great was the 6 hours it took me to drive there as I got caught up in
the Easter traffic. I’ve got a very low boredom threshold, and long journeys do my head in.
It would probably have helped if I’d brought some decent cds to listen to on the way down, rather than the collection
of garbage currently residing in my glove compartment, (I like the way we still quaintly refer to this storage area as the “glove compartment”
in spite of the fact that very few drivers (I suspect) are currently still in the habit of donning “driving gloves”.)
In addition, most of my cds get stuck on certain tracks, and when this happens in the midst of yet another traffic jam…well, it all gets a bit too much for me.
I listened to “The Best of Bananarama” twice.
Desperate.
The gig was a “Buzz Comedy” gig run by the legendary “Agraman”.
He’s a true maverick of the comedy business who delights in the pun.
Most comedy clubs start with a fanfare of loud music, followed by an enthusiastic compere whipping the crowd up into a frenzy, by asking members of the audience where they come from and what job they do.
Agraman is different.
He just appears on stage without any intro, and gradually batters the audience into submission with a long series of terrible puns, and
an innate charm. I really liked his approach, and so did the audience.
They’re obviously very familiar with his style and took it in their stride.
The last time I’d gigged in this neck of the wood was when I’d only done a handful of gigs, and had a spot in Scarborough.
At that stage in my career, I was quite freaked out to discover that there was an audience of 400 at the club.
I talked at 100mph throughout my set, and was told by many people after the gig that they had absolutely no idea what I was talking about as they ouldn’t understand I word I’d said,(they do definitely talk a bit slower in Yorkshire than they do in Scotland).
This time I deliberately slowed down the delivery, and it all went really well.
Rather than immediately embark on the epic journey home after the gig, I decided to get drunk and stay at a B&B in Beverley ; a very pretty town I thought.
It was at this point that I decided to give up smoking (again).
There was no “Marlboro Lights” to be had, so I ended up buying a pack of “Lambert & Butler” out of the machine (£6.20).
I smoked 2, but didn’t enjoy them at all, and ended up throwing the rest away.
£3.10 a fag…
Ridiculous, I thought…that’s it, I’ve had enough of this stupid habit…
It was the latest in a long line of “nicotine epiphany moments”.
Oh well, have now gone 11 days now without smoking with relative ease….(yawn!...I know…I know…)
On the bill with me were Liane Ross, Marc Lucero and Kevin Dewsbury, and extremely funny they all were too.
I noticed that Liane Ross was also dazzlingly attractive.
It’s fair to say that Marc and Kevin were also dazzlingly attractive ; albeit in a slightly less conventional interpretation of “dazzlingly attractive”.
At the end of the show everyone drove off into the night, but I stayed around to have a couple of pints.
Unfortunately, I got locked in a less-than-enthralling discussion with a Beverley-based, ex-pat Scotsman.
His main topic of conversation was the Glasgow Underground.
He maintained, at considerable length, that it was a far superior underground system to the London Underground because in Glasgow ALL of
the track is underground.
London “pathetically” has several stretches of it’s erroneously titled “underground system” which are ABOVE the ground.
We discussed this for a good (I use the term loosely) half-an-hour.
What made Glasgow even better was the fact that they even had to make the trains underground, as there was no other way to get them there.
Rather than starting to self-harm, I made my excuses and left…cleverly getting lost in Beverley (which is a tiny place ; I am an idiot), as I tried to find my B&B

Hello! Hello! We are the silly boys!

2009-04-07T14:52:00.003+01:00

Barry Ferguson and Allan McGregor had already annoyed me before “Fingergate” all kicked off last week.
I’d settled down to watch the Holland v Scotland match, with limited expectations..
As “Flower of Scotland” droned away, the camera panned down the line of Scottish players, in the traditional
fashion.
The majority were making some effort to sing along, but right at the end were Ferguson and McGregor, tight-lipped and both displaying
a deeply-negative body language.
With hindsight, this image was the opening scene of a peculiarly Scottish Shakespearian-esque tragedy.
These images are shown on the big screens in the ground, and are an opportunity to connect with the Scottish support , letting them know
that the team are fired up and ready to burst into action.
This was not the subliminal message imparted by Ferguson & McGregor.
They came across as a couple of surly, dim-witted neds being asked to play against their will.
Now, to be honest, I can’t stand “Flower of Scotland”.
For starters, tunes in “waltz time” just don’t work as anthems.
Furthermore, the lyrics are mawkish, browbeaten nonsense.
Yes, we did send Edward homeward to think again, but after thinking for a bit, he came back and whupped our asses.
And, of course I’m sure that the majority of the ancestors of the middle-class, investment bankers in the Tartan Army were in all probability fighting for the Government army at Culloden.
There are so many other things to celebrate positively about Scotland in song.
I think “Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep” by “Middle of the Road” would have more gravitas as an anthem than “Flower of Scotland”,
For example, there’s a wealth of Burns poetry positively celebrating Scotland and mankind (and womankind) in universally appreciated sentiment.
Get some people to come up with some new tunes for them, and let’s get it on.
TV Show to select the winning tune? “You’re Bard!” ?
As a text I really like “A Man’s A Man For A’ That”, but the melody is a bit rubbish, I think.
I hope “Flower of Scotland” gets the boot soon.
Listening to the supporters singing it like a “London’s Burning” round, on International sporting occasions, because they can’t get the timing right (2/4 always works better than ¾ for anthems, ok?), makes me feel like sawing my own head off.
However, in spite of all this, if I was representing my country, I would sing “Flower of Scotland” at the top of my voice, as if I was auditioning
for a Broadway musical.
It’s a no-brainer. Let the opposition know you mean business, THEN lose heavily…
It was annoying to read in the next day’s press that Holland “outclassed” Scotland.
That’s baloney…a distinctly average Dutch team were gifted some soft goals, by an insipid Scottish team led by a ned.
I have to say, I was slightly surprised by the ensuing 8 hour drinking binge.
I thought we’d moved on a bit from the crazed footballer drinking syndrome….but apparently not.
I suppose there still remains a cultural attitude in Scotland that if a bar is open it should be used, regardless of time,(check out the pre-holiday binge drinking going on at 6am at Scottish airports for an example of this phenomenum).
It’s basically the same attitude the over-70s have to toilets.
It’s the stupid factor which really stands out in this instance.
I love the fact that it doesn’t occur to them that remaining sitting in a bar after an all-night drinking sessions, as members of the public appear for lunch,
might not be such a great idea.
And of course after their hilarious “offensive gesture” japes at the Iceland game, they declared open season on themselves.
You’d think anyone in their situation, who regularly have to deal with the media, would realise that as soon as the press published photos of their puerile pranks, they’d have to get out there double-quick with big, big apologies and contrition to every media outlet available.
That’s what the great Max Clifford would have done.
But no, they did nothing, and they got hit with a particularly heavy punishment.
Rangers deserve credit for acting decisively, but you can’t ignore the fact that given Rangers’ disastrous financial position, they’d love to be shot of these two under-performing numpties and their huge (by Scottish standards) wages.
They are expendable, both for Scotland and Rangers.
Their idiotic behaviour unfortunately coincided with a groundswell of opinion that someone should finally take a stand against moronic, out-of-touch, overpaid footballer behaviour.
If I was them, I’d blame the “credit crunch”.
“We’re mad as hell, and we’re not going to take it any longer!….” as someone once said.

Relatively armless

2009-04-03T09:53:00.002+01:00

3 weeks ago, I spent an enjoyable Sunday afternoon thrashing about on a drumkit with some musical associates.
This was all fine and dandy, but by the next morning my right shoulder had seized up completely.
I probably should have immediately gone to see a physio, but kept thinking that it was just a minor strain and would soon clear up.
The pain was ok during the day, but at night it was impossible for me to find a comfortable position to sleep (in spite of being loaded up with industrial painkillers).
As a result, I hardly had any sleep for a week…
Lack of sleep is not a lot of fun.
It makes you grumpy (I know..un-BELIEVABLE), tired (obviously), unable to pay attention (even more than usual).
It’s not good.
You get very little sympathy either.
An incredibly short timescale elapses before your friends and aquaintances declare your moaning about the constant pain you’re experiencing to be deeply tedious.
I’ll now always be much,more sympathetic in future to tedious idiots who moan incessantly about their varied aches and pains.
I will, I will…
They are good, gentle people and I was wrong to dismiss them as twats.
Anyway, I was then off to France for a few day’s boarding.
There was sunshine, blue skies and lots of snow, (including one big powder day).
As usual my boarding was at its best over the first couple of days, then gradually began to deteriorate as the fatigue set in.
My unusual “no sleep for a week” fitness preparation didn’t really work out.
I had meant to get a lot fitter for this holiday, but sadly this wasn’t possible.
As ever, I loved it though, and it remains extremely invigorating to be hurtling down slopes in the Alps on a beautiful sunny day.
On my last day, the light went a bit flat, and I succumbed to a few heavy falls…all of them involving landing heavily on my right shoulder…ouch!
I then started experiencing a continual numbness in my fingers, indicating that I had trapped a nerve.
Such is the current strength in my right arm that a mug of tea wobbles about while I drink from it.
For the foreseeable future, I can’t sit beside elderly people in cafes in case my tea drinking technique is misconstrued as a cruel lampooning
of them.
The Chiropractor didn’t seem to help that much, so I made an appointment at a Physiotherapist.
This does seem to have improved things, but the session itself was 40 minutes of sheer torture, pushing me to the absolute limit of my pain tolerance.
Ah “deep tissue massage”, how I love thee so...
As I flew back into Edinburgh from France in a zombie trance-like state, I was cursing the knowledge that I immediately had to travel through to
Glasgow to do a gig, and also the thoughts of other gigs in Glasgow on the following days, made me feel even more weary.
However, the gigs at McPhabbs (“Ding Dong Comedy”) and Bacchus (“Four Play”) were cracking gigs for me.
I have found in the past that sometimes when you feel absolutely zonked and spaced out, it can often lead to really good gigs in the end.
I was also due to perform at Jim Hobbit’s show but had to get bumped as the show was running way over time and I had to head for the hills.
Oh, and I should get the plugging started and say that our show this Fringe is called “Silence of The Trams”, and it will be on at “The Stand 4” from August
7-30 at 6.05pm…
I’ll remind you all nearer the time.

Not that I'm one to complain, but...

2009-03-13T15:41:00.002Z

So anyway, I poured some “organic” milk into my cup of tea, and glanced down at the “best before” date…
It said “March 4th”, and the actual date was “11th March”….
I cautiously sniffed the top of the carton, but a nasty pong was conspicuous only by its absence.
“Hang on a minute”, I thought…”organic milk shouldn’t last that long…”.
This leads me to believe that the whole “organic milk” industry is complete bollocks.
There surely must be preservative chemicals in the milk for it to last that long.
In the olden days I remember milk used to last a couple of days max.
When I was at school, by the afternoon the old free milk would often be “on the turn”, and was best avoided.
My “organic” milk was now 10 days old, and should really be stinking out the joint…
If this is the case with organic milk, I wonder how much else of this whole organic business is a complete con…
I’ve also been having a wretched time trying to book a snowboarding holiday in France.
It should be a piece of piss doing this on the Internet, bad sadly this is not the case.
Too many annoying companies and businesses have second-guessed every possible “Google” search you might carry out trying to sort out the details of such a holiday.
As a consequence, it’s infuriatingly difficult to find precisely the information that you need, as every search result is awash with sites of no interest at all to me.
It’s trying to discover relatively simple things, like trying to work out what the transfer options are from airports to the different resorts.
If you didn’t know better, you might assume that the only option available would be an expensive private hire cab, as these
companies have managed to smother all the search results completely.
There are maybe ways you can tinker with google to filter off all this shit, but unfortunately it’s beyond my ken.
There were times where I was on the point of giving up and abandoning the idea of even taking a stupid, bloody snowboarding holiday.
And don’t get me started on booking flights.
It’s now an obstacle course of trying to avoid accidentally paying too much for baggage handling, insurance, car hires, “special” check-in
privileges…eg pay a tenner and get on the plane first (marvellous…well worth the money)
The sites are designed to catch out people making bookings in a hurry.
It’s ridiculously easy to unwittingly include an add-on you don’t require, and once you’ve booked it, you’ll get charged an admin fee and will have a long extended 0871 call to pay for, should you try to revise your booking details.
I made a vow never to use Ryanair again after I’d recently booked a flight to Dublin, and found at the end of the procedure that the “booking fee” for using a “Visa debit” card was £9.50.
In the future I’d rather pay more to another airline than go with them.
It’s pure deception, and I’m surprised they’re allowed to get away with it.
How on earth can you justify £9.50 as a handling charge for a debit card?
The flight I booked from Edinburgh with www.jet2.com was advertised at £69.99.
By the time they’d added on taxes, snowboard carriage fee, card handling fee, a meal on board (I wasn’t going to, but weirdly I always enjoy airline food…I know..I know…), it came to £143.50.
I was mildly irritated at the discrepancy between advertised and actual fare.
Is this still legal?
I did a charity gig this week, and unwittingly found myself on the bill as the “Headline act”.
I was introduced as”…and now…our headline act, “The Stand’s” Jim Parks (sic)….”
I’m not quite sure how I became an official ambassador for “The Stand”, and I can only apologise for any damage that I have caused to their
reputation as a result of this unforeseen association.
I had a pretty good gig, but must admit to being slightly spooked by the “headline” tag…it’s a very different feeling to that comfy womb-like place in the middle of the running order.

The Write Stuff

2009-03-04T16:40:00.003Z

I’ve got some new clips on Rooftop comedy.
I don’t think they are the strongest elements of my set, and it is likely that the ensuing publicity will dictate that I never work again.
But on the bright side, it’s all been a marvellous “journey” hasn’t it?
I’ve also got my Hackney set on youtube.
I think that most of my set is now in the public domain on various sites.
This is a good reason to get writing and revamp the whole set.
I’m trying to stick to a new regime of writing for an hour every day.
I figure this is better than spending hours on end at one sitting, banging my head off the table trying to come up with some new, dynamite funnies.
The disheartening fact is that 99% of the stuff I write is complete rubbish and totally unusable.
(Some people might hold the opinion that I am badly underestimating this figure)
However, you just have to keep plugging away to mine that 1%...there is no alternative.
Rather than increase the price of alcohol, I would introduce legislation whereby all Scottish children, upon attaining the age of 13, must drink the entire contents of a large bottle of Advocaat.
This certainly completely ruined my taste for alcohol throughout my succeeding adolescent years in which you traditionally tend to perform your most anti-social acts.
Most of us can handle drink without going around punching people and jumping up and down on car roofs, so surely this practice would be more efficient, and would target would-be troublemakers while they are still young and impressionable.
I didn’t so much have a hangover per se , more a 3-day vomit-fest, wondering what on earth had hit me.

Thatch's dotage

2009-03-03T13:59:00.002Z

I very much enjoyed the play “Margaret” on the telly the other night.
It concerned itself prinicipally with the fall from grace of Margaret Thatcher.
I find it difficult to fathom that this occurred more than 18 years ago.
Lyndsay Duncan was excellent in the leading role and inhabited the
character of Thatcher very accurately.
I have to confess though to being in a highly confused state during and after the play, mainly down to the fact that this particular characterisation of “The Iron Lady” was unarguably giving me the horn.
This is beyond “wrong”, and I am honestly thinking of receiving counselling to allow me to come to terms with this trauma.
This blurring of fiction and reality in this way is highly dangerous.
It’s probably fair to say that I found Denis Healey to be sexier than the real Margaret Thatcher, (it was the eyebrows, I think).
John Sessions was great as “Geoffrey Howe”…he WAS Geoffrey Howe!
There was an interesting portrayal of John Major, apparently base on the character of “Blofeld” in the James Bond films.
Also, less-than-convincing was the Michael Heseltine character who looked (and talked) like he was half-way through a werewolf transformation scene.
Other good news is that myself and the “No Comedy For Old Men” boys have got our show accepted as part of “The Stand’s” 2009 Fringe programme.
This is fantastic news.
It’s a big step up from last year’s show in a pub at the bottom of Leith Walk, (enjoyable though it all was).
I reckon we’ll be changing the name of the show though, as “No Comedy For Old Men” is somewhat out-of-date

Got My Mojo Back

2009-02-24T16:10:00.004Z

Well, I was granted redemption and had a rocking gig at The State Bar in Glasgow on Saturday night; finally getting this cursed monkey off my back.
The journey to the gig had an inauspicious start.
Driving out of Edinburgh, I decided to recite my act, as I’d been having trouble lately remembering the correct sequence, having
recently switched some of the set around.
This was all going fine, but unfortunately my mind wandered from the job in hand, and I found myself on the Edinburgh Bypass
heading towards Berwick-on-Tweed.
I’d driven straight past the M8 turn-off. This was unprecedented, (that means it’s never happened before).
Anyway, I had to drive a good few miles in the opposite direction before I was able to turn around and once more head in the direction
of Glasgow.
From having plenty of time, I was now on a fairly tight schedule.
I got a bit bogged down in Glasgow city centre, and it was now 5 minutes till showtime, I’d still to find a parking place, and I was due on first.
I hate this sort of scenario, and tend to arrive early and swan about for a while before the show.
I got parked then sprinted towards the venue…
It was 8.45pm, the advertised start time…
When I arrived, I was the first person there…apparently the show wasn’t now starting till 9.30pm…Marvellous!
45 minutes of completely unnecessary stress.
I really enjoyed the show though.
It was a great crowd, and a pleasure to play to.
I’d spent the previous evening watching with fascination as Mojo the Chihuahua enthusiastically played with Ziggy the 12 week old kitten at my friend’s house,(they come from two different families)
It was a great example of communal living by natural enemies.
I think Ziggy and Mojo should be hired by the “United Nations” and perform in all the World’s trouble spots in front of the various political leaders involved in all long-running, intractable conflicts.
Having just signed up to Facebook, I extended my continuing years-out-of-date approach to embracing fads by trying out the Wii product range.
I triumphed at golf, but was soundly whipped at tennis, bowls and boxing.
I also aggravated my sore shoulder as a result of the manic, flailing about of punching during the boxing Wii.
Coincidentally, I almost had a real-life boxing match yesterday with a cyclist in Edinburgh.
Dressed all in black, and with no lights, I didn’t see him speeding towards me as I crossed Maitland Street, (it was semi-darkness)
“Dickhead” he shouted as he had to brake and swerve past me.
“You’re the dickhead! Where’s your lights?” I shouted at him at the top of my voice (slightly startling an elderly lady who was walking past me)
About 50 yards further on, I watched him stop the bike, dismount and start heading purposefully towards me.
He looked well over 6ft and quite well-built.
I decided to use the psychology of walking towards him to demonstrate that I wasn’t feart.
It’s a technique I saw used by a man who used to live alongside grizzly bears in Canada, (it worked for a while but he was eventually eaten alive)
We then went face to face…
I said “I didn’t see you..you’ve no lights”
“It’s not dark” he said.
“So why has every car passing got their lights on I said?” (it was very much a “Rumpole of the Bailey” moment)
Then there was a pause as we just stared at each other.
“Why don’t you kiss my arse!” he said aggressively.
At this I just laughed and said “very good!” very good!” and walked away.
I was half-expecting an attack, but it never came.
Whenever I find myself in a situation like this (quite often), I ponder on whether I should really learn some martial arts stuff for self-defence.
The thing is, I reckon you’ll get into more trouble if you have these skills because you’d be less likely to defuse the situation, motivated by self-preservation.
Maybe, I should just take more care crossing the road?

Strum Enchanted Evening?

2009-02-12T11:57:00.004Z

Well last night’s gig was always going to be tricky.
I thought I did ok-ish, but it was hard work.
The show at the Voodoo Rooms is predominantly an open-mic musical event, featuring a succession of acoustic singer-songwriters performing 3 songs each.
The compere cheerily introduces the acts, but the overall tone of the evening is quite earnest.
To parachute stand-up comedy in the middle of a show like this is something of a challenge ; a challenge which I was happy to accept, as it’s definitely worthwhile to get out of the comedy club “comfort zone” and test your act on an audience who have not been warmed up by a comedy compere, or perhaps have not even anticipated that there was a scheduled comedy element on the bill.
I was highly impressed by the quality of the musicians. There was some really excellent stuff, and regardless of how my act went, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening..
I did feel I possibly lost a few of the audience even before I got on stage though.
A young male act deadpanly introduced an instrumental piece by informing the audience that he’d written it especially for his girlfriend and was originally intending playing it on a local radio station on Valentine’s Day and dedicating it to her.
He then went on to lament that his girlfriend had unexpectedly ended their relationship earlier this week.
There were a few suppressed titters at this tragic revelation, but I involuntarily loudly guffawed, and attracted several withering glances.
Being an alleged comedian, I was anticipating a punchline, and when it didn’t appear my big laugh reverberated around the room, as my brain computed “jeezo…! he’s serious!”.
There were pockets of the audience giggling away merrily during my act, but there were also quite a lot of blank, non-comprehending expressions.
It probably would have worked better if I’d tried to write some material specifically about the musical open-mic phenomenum.
As a form, it seems to have really exploded, and there must be a lot of humour to extract from it.
I did feel awkward in that some of the preceding acts had described their aspirations for a “raised level of consciousness” to save mankind, with many other worthy sentiments of peace, love and understanding.
I’m not saying I disagree with these ideals, just that it felt a bit odd in context, to be bemoaning my Grandfather’s blocked toilet.
I did mention that I felt I’d inadvertently emptied a large bucket of shit into the “stream of consciousness” which had pervaded the evening.
That got quite a big laugh.
The puns got a lot of groans.
This is always a sign of a troublesome gig for me, in that the audience are reacting solely to the admittedly, often awful punchlines, rather than, ,for example, finding the concept of someone walking around all day with a pot of pasta attached to their foot, intrinsically amusing.

CSb RIP

2009-02-11T15:07:00.006Z

I think most people are probably bored reading about anything with “credit crunch” references in it, (I know I am).
However, I have to admit I’m pretty shocked at what is going on in central Edinburgh.
As I take a lunchtime stroll around Tollcross, I notice with each passing day more and more businesses collapsing.
The only firm that seems to be doing quite well at the moment is the one which manufactures the “To Let” signs.
They must be selling like the proverbial cakes of the hot variety.
Many of the restaurants in this area no longer even bother to open at lunchtime, and those that do are virtually empty.
The “Festival Alehouse” and “Scruffy Murphys” bars have closed, (admittedly no great loss, but they seemed reasonably busy compared with many other bars).
The musical instrument shop next to the King’s Theatre has now closed (can’t remember its name).
If things carry on at this rate, the only businesses still open will be the big Coffee chains, and a couple of Poundstretchers.
Although maybe a few more charity shops will start up? (just what Edinburgh needs).
More bad news emerged this morning when I discovered that my beloved snowboarding haven “CSb Chalet Snowboard” has gone out of business.
This is a total disaster as there is nothing else like it on the snowboarding market.
I may have lost millions on misplaced share deals recently, but this is ultimately more painful.
Csb ran a dedicated snowboarding chalet near the Avoriaz resort.
What made it unique was that the people who ran the chalet were also all top boarders, who would act as guides and take you all over the resort, including to a lot of off-piste areas, where their local knowledge was invaluable.
Everybody at the chalet boarded together, ate and drank together ; and although you’d get the odd mentalist, 99.9% of the residents were great people.
I’ve been there 5 times, and I’m gutted to hear of its demise.
I’ve had some fantastic times there over the years, and it’s just not the same anywhere else.
What is particularly annoying is that in Canada last year, I finally ditched my old board, got a Burton T6 on Ebay and totally transformed my snowboarding abilities, and was really looking forward to doing another CSb holiday to consolidate my gains.
Pah!
A couple of years ago, myself and a couple of aquaintances were toying with the idea of taking over the lease of the “Holyrood Tavern” .
In spite of all my financial disasters of late, the fact that this never came to fruition represents a great escape.
In the current economic climate, re-launching the Holyrood would have been a financial catastrophe beyond imagination.
Phew!

Pow!

2009-02-10T15:20:00.005Z

“Hurtin’ my back
On the way to the gym…”
Of course, that could be a couple of lines from “Isn’t It Ironic” by Alanis Morrisette, if it was actually about irony…
But it isn’t, it’s what happened to me yesterday.
I thought I would start the week positively, in a blaze of smug glory, by going to the gym at work.
I also had to carry my laptop in to work as it’s been acting up and I wanted to take it to the repair shop at lunchtime.
So, while walking up the street and carrying this lopsided load, something tweaked in my back and the gym visit had to be cancelled on disability grounds.
And now I’m hobbling about in pain.
Those of you in your early 70s will remember the BBC series “Colditz”.
On Sunday night, I found myself watching a whole episode on Youtube, (I am living the dream).
The episode I was watching is generally regarded as the most memorable one, and has been repeated many times over the years.
It’s called “Tweedledum” and is the story of one of the POWs who feigns insanity in an attempt to be repatriated.
It features a brilliant performance by Michael Bryant as “Wing Commander Marsh”, the central character.
I enjoyed watching it again, but was somewhat dumbfounded that the very end of the episode was missing.
It’s fair to say that the end is quite important.
It involves “Colonel Preston” (the senior British officer at Colditz) reading a letter he has just received from Marsh’s wife.
The upshot is that by spending so long appearing to have cracked, he has had a genuine mental breakdown and is now permanently
hospitalised in England, with no hope of recovery.
It’s quite a powerful ending.
However, today’s generation of Youtube viewers will think that “Tweedledum” completely fooled the Germans with his cunning plan, and lived happily ever after back home in dear old Blighty.
(It’s probably what would have happened had Hollywood made a version of the tale)
It can be quite misleading missing the end of films and stuff.
Imagine you’d walked out of “The Sting” just as Paul Newman and Robert Redford were shot?
You’d think it was a rather tragic and abrupt end, to what had been quite a jolly film up till that point.
Or you might have left “Snow White” before the end, and felt pained to realise that she was going to spend eternity sleeping in a glass case…very sad!
Robert Wagner was in “Colditz”, although he only ever has about one line an episode to say…(I wonder how much he got paid?)
I laughed more than I have just about ever laughed at anything last night watching Irish comic Paul Currie at The Stand.
He did a lip-sync to the “Hart to Hart” theme (starring Robert Wagner ; what a flawless link…) with an embarrassed-looking couple forced to join him on stage.
The theme is funny in itself, but when he mimed “when they got together….it was moidah!!!!” , and then froze for a couple of minutes while the rest of the theme played out…well, I nearly had a fit.
Beautiful stuff…
My “Chairman Mao” watch has attracted a lot of admiring interest.
Unfortunately, it loses approximately 10 minutes in every hour.
There should be a joke there somewhere?
Gordon Alexander made one last night, but I have managed to forget it.
Something about “a cultural step back in time”.

well hello there China!

2009-02-08T17:56:00.002Z

My sister has just returned from a month long holiday in sunny China.
She has brought me back a great watch which has an image of Chairman Mao waving his hand on the face.
It is the best watch ever. Hilarious.
She did a 2 day tour of Beijing and complimented her tour guide on China's overall organisation of the Olympics.
She also mentioned that the Paralympics were impressively staged as well.
At this the tour guide said "I didn't like the Paralympics"
Puzzled, my sister asked "Why?"
The guide replied "I don't think it is right to make people with one leg to race each other...it is cruel!"
Hmmm...now that is a puzzling, yet highly interesting take on things!
My niece Kitty (2) now routinely asks my brother ; "Have you sold your house yet?"
(it has been on the market for quite a long time)
This is very funny too.

Punctured bicycle on a hilltop desolate

2009-02-07T11:05:00.002Z

So anyway, last night at the Heresy Comedy Club was pretty much up there on the “Jim Park disastrous, crash-and-burn gigs roll of dishonour”.
It was always going to be difficult.
I was on first. (It’s like assuming the role of the Star Trek crew member you don’t recognise, going off on a reconnaissance mission).
The bulk of the audience comprised of some kind of works night out thing, where the men were, without exception,acting like the most annoying, surly, ignorant adolescent twats.
It was clear from the start that they wanted the show to be entirely about them, and that they weren’t interested in listening to material of any sort.
There followed an extended, hideous demonstration of showing-off and one-upmanship between them.
To a certain extent I could compare my experience with that of Chesley Burnett "Sully" Sullenberger III.
When a couple of banker jokes failed in the opening minutes of my act, you could make an analogy with Chesley’s plane smashing into a flock of Canadian Geese.
It was at this point that we both realised we were in trouble.
The other comedians on the bill (Rob Kane, Elaine Malcolmson and Mark Nelson), did a much better job than me of stepping outside their material (athough, more or less forced to), and taking on the heckling idiots.
I tried this once at my disastrous State Bar gig, trading insults merrily for 25 minutes, but I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not really my bag.
So I gamely ploughed on with my material.
If myself and Chesley Burnett "Sully" Sullenberger III. had swapped places ; rather than land the plane safely on the Hudson River, I would have steered the plane
straight into the foyer of the Rockefeller Center with catastrophic consequences.
As well as the adolescent idiots, a psychotic-looking woman in the front row seemed furious about my Islamic Terrorist “You’ve Been Framed” TV special joke ; repeatedly shouting “I KNOW people there…! I KNOW people there..!” (continuing long after I’d finished that bit).
Experience informs you when a gig is beyond rescue, so I cut the set short and beat a hasty retreat.
Chesley was hailed as a great American hero.
I wasn’t.
If I'd taken out a sub-machine and sprayed the front rows with bullets, I would have been entirely justified.
The tabloids would have a field day with the man who was a "lifesaver" last week becoming a mass murder the following week.
It would make a great film too.
My next engagement is at a “spoken word” event in which I am the only comedian, and will be performing a 15 minute set.
Before last night, with a high confidence rating, I had no worries at all about taking on something like this.
However, now the doubts have set in again.
Carey Marx did a line last night about getting into a train carriage full of Chinese peopl that had me howling with laughter.
First time I've seen him...sublime stuff.

It’s a right old laugh isn’t it?

You must be choking! (genius)

2009-01-30T11:01:00.002Z

There was high drama in the office this week, as I stepped in to prevent a colleague at the neighbouring desk choking to death.
I was working away diligently, as is my norm, when I noticed his hand banging the top of his desk as he was hunched over in his chair.
My first thought was that he was bent-double laughing and was just doing the banging on the table for “theatrical emphasis” purposes.
I then caught a glimpse of his face and immediately recognised that this was a serious situation. His face was crimson and it was obvious he was completely unable to breathe.
I firmly thumped his back a couple of times, and thankfully that cleared the blockage.
If that hadn’t worked I was going to have to have a go at the classic “Heimlich manoeuvre”, which I’d never attempted before, and was unsure if I’d be able to produce the desired result.
It was surreal in the sense that while this crisis was unfolding, everyone else in the open plan office were tapping away on their computers,
blissfully unaware of the unfolding drama going on at the back of the room.
It’s made me think that taking a first aid course is something that everyone should do, because you can all of a sudden find yourself in a situationwhere you have to make an immediate intervention, and it would certainly help if you had a rough idea about what exactly to do.
So there you go…making people laugh and saving lives…surely that is worth an MBE?
I’m too humble to nominate myself for such honours or write to the producers of Esther Rantzen’s “Hearts of Gold”, but if anyone else wanted to, I wouldn’t stand in their way.
And if I got really famous as a result, I promise you that I wouldn’t pathetically use the limelight to boost my comedy career, but would concentrate all my energy on focussing attention on the carers and lifesavers and other “Hearts of Gold” type people, in a kind of “Comedy Relief” way.
After all, I just did what anyone would have done if they found themselves in a similar situation.
I’m not a hero ; just an ordinary bloke. I was just doing my job as a fellow human, and it would be for other people to decide if it merited wider recognition and reward.
The experience of doing the Hackney Final and getting decent reviews seems to have boosted my comedy profile.
I can exclusively reveal that I will now be making a special guest appearance on the “Jim Hobbit” Glasgow Comedy Festival show, as well as getting a weekend of gigs in Dublin next month.

Jim stops smoking again shock!

2009-01-26T16:17:00.005Z

I feel I should award belated kudos to my old friends Egg and Mitch who travelled to London from Shropshire and Scotland respectively, just
to see me perform at the Hackney Empire.
This represents a classic example of outstanding devotion, above and beyond the call of duty.
I was impressed and deeply moved.
Mitch runs the Edinburgh Film Studios.
I would implore you all to go there immediately, and arrange to make a film.
Cinema was very popular during the Great Depression of the 1930s, so it could be a great opportunity to indulge your creative whims
and direct a “Credit Crunch” , feelgood Blockbuster for 2009.
I got a couple of reviews in The Stage and on Chortle.
They are both generally positive and have some really good quotable quotes.
I find the “squashed face” description a bit odd though.
I’ve been called many things, but “squashed face” is a new one…
The review was written by a Julian Chambers, whereas last year’s (at times extremely scathing) Hackney review was written by one Julia Chamberlain.
I suspect they are the same person?
Intriguing…
But hey, I’m really happy with the reviews…and hopefully I can use them to open a few doors.
I’m working with a few Indian guys at work at the moment.
They’re good guys and I have a good laugh with them.
I find it very amusing that they all call me “Park”.
(I’m listed as “PARK, James” on the directory)
I haven’t pointed out to them that they are calling me by my surname.
It just feels quite funny to be called that.
I don’t think I’ve been routinely referred to as “Park” since I was at High School.
Could I be getting nostalgic for my dreadful time as a pupil at Queensferry High School?
From what I gather, it’s a good school now, but in my time it was a rotten, depressing environment.
So anyway, do teachers still use the surname to deal with pupils, or have we arrived at a more touchy-feely era in which
first names are invoked?
I don’t know.
I’ve had to stop smoking again.
This becomes necessary as I have arrived at what I term as the “stupid phase” of my smoking habit.
For a while I can just have the odd cigarette now and again ; often having 2-3 day smoke free intervals.
Unfortunately, I have been smoking just about every day for the past month (the Hackney Empire is definitely a contributory factor here).
My cue to stop is when I start smoking cigarettes when I don’t really want one.
It’s a mad impulse…
In spite of having no urge, I’ll smoke one, then stub it out half-way through the cigarette, and go “Ugh! I didn’t enjoy that at all…”
I have done this a lot in the last 2 weeks and as a result, it is now time for another ceasesmoke.
So “peace in the Middle East” or “Jim quits smoking for good”…
Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen….
I did a bit in my set last night at The Stand about my fictional Great Uncle Duncan.
Having completed what I now refer to as the "potato section" of my set, I mentioned that Uncle Duncan once said "The best laughs are with potatoes", shortly before sticking a fork into the side of his head.
Soon afterwards we had to put him in residential care.
This went really well...
It was a sold-out "Burns Special" at The Stand last night, making it the third cracking gig I've had in the last week.
Confidence is high at the moment.
I'm overdue a disaster...

Hmmmm....Nice...!!!

2009-01-20T15:49:00.005Z

So Hackney has come and gone….
It was the definite highpoint of my comedic career…
What a buzz to play in front of a sold-out Hackney Empire…1500 people…ker-pow…!!!
On this occasion I’d like to say “Fuck self-deprecation..!”
I had a storming gig…I couldn’t have wished in my wildest dreams for it to go any better…it was an absolute joy to play that stage…
My main anxiety before the gig was that I wouldn’t do myself justice, and regret not making the most of probably the biggest gig of my life.
Being so relieved it had gone well, any concern over the subjective musings of a group of judges seemed gloriously irrelevant.
I promise you. I’m not delusional…why only last Thursday I did much of my set to silence at the esteem’d “Heresy” comedy club in Edinburgh.
It was like doing a bible reading at school assembly.
I’ve no interest in hiding disasters.
I know they’re much more interesting to read about than the successful gigs though. I’m not stupid…
But it all got filmed, so I’ll stick a copy of it on here and then you, yes you, can decide if I’m being ludicrously, over-generous with my nauseatingly subjective self-review.
I was delighted that Fergus won…I‘m a big fan of his work as part of the “Colin and Fergus” double-act, and I loved his offbeat solo set on
Saturday night. Class.
Compere Arthur Smith was also on fine form.
He strode into a fairly tense Green Room before the show, and informed everyone that the previous year’s winner had now given up performing (this is true), so that winning this thing wasn’t necessarily recommended for your “fucking career!”, and did his trademark throaty chuckle.
He instantly transformed the atmosphere and had everyone giggled uncontrollably for the next few minutes as he held court.
Weirdly, I felt hardly any nerves as I strode onto the stage and did my set.
I felt more nervous doing the heat upstairs in a pub in Stoke Newington.
I just found the whole place such a comfortable, friendly environment that the nerves just went, and all that remained was a determination to
savour the experience, as these sort of things don’t come around too often.
And playing that stage was a celestial orgasm...buzz-tastic.
Of course being an emotional kind of guy, after the show I was choked at how celebratory my friends were who’d come along to see me.
They were miles more nervous than me about the whole thing ; utterly terrified of witnessing me having having a disaster.
I’m lucky to have the friends I have…they rock! (this is obviously turning into my Gwyneth Paltrow/Halle Berry moment)
And it was great to see my old samba muckers Hannah and Jen also making a surprise celebrity appearance.
Looking back, I really enjoyed the immediate aftermath of qualifying for the final.
Participating in the stand-up comedy experience involves taking a regulatory amount of kicks in the bollocks from time to time, so it’s nice to occasionally get a little bit of recognition that you’re doing something right.
I was enjoying this phase up until the beginning of last week ; then all of a sudden the final was looming large on the horizon.
I spent most of last week constantly pondering on what material to select for the 5 minute set.
It’s agonising, as you contemplate after the event bemoaning that you ended up making some catastrophically bad choices.
Then you have a bit of a worry on where you’ll end up on the bill…probably better to be in the middle of the first half I thought… There are so many acts to get through
that you don’t want to be too far down the bill and perform to a frazzled audience (I ended up being on 3rd in the 2nd half…not great, but could have been worse)…
You worry in case someone’s material is too similar to yours (particularly if they are on first) …Then you worry that if the person on before you is TOO funny then the audience will need a rest and you’ll catch them in a lull…or if the person before you has a lingering death, it may take time to get the room warmed up again…
There’s a whole range of anxiety inducing stuff to ponder over…
I think I’ll make that the end of my competition days…the performing is great…the surrounding stress is not so great.
But back at work now and have made a right pig's ear of something...I'm not getting as good a reaction from my work audience at all...
Back to reality.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-10T15:59:00.005Z

found this old review of me on the interweb…
I don’t think it was one of my finest hours, but I reckon I could use the “best act of the evening” quote though…
Interestingly, I do seem to be getting criticised for having a go at scripted comedians, then proceeding to read off a clipboard throughout my act…
I imagine that if one4review were doing a review of “Dad’s Army” ,in a similar vein, they would criticise Corporal Jones, for repeatedly telling his colleagues “Don’t panic! don’t panic!”, while acting in a highly agitated manner which gives the viewer the distinct impression that he himself is panicking, in direct contravention of the advice he is seen to be vociferously issuing.
I can’t remember doing impersonations at any point. Intriguing!
I do like the reviewers though. They are comedy fans, and I wouldn’t want to discourage them.
I was down in Manchester doing a gig at the Comedy Balloon this week, and staying with my illustrious, older brother.
I’ve always been a little disappointed in that, despite living in Manchester for more than 20 years, he still does not refer to me as “our kid”.
Unfortunately, it was a damp, freezing horrible night, Man Utd were live on the telly, and the acts outnumbered the audience.
It was a funny evening though, and I was still grateful of the chance to get in some training before the Hackney event.
And £1.89 for a pint of bitter!
It’s fair to say I’m enjoying gigging in England much more than Scotland at the moment.
I think I’m fortunate in the sense that my material has no particular Scottish identity, and has a universal quality about it.
I’m not saying “universally hilarious” though ; I’d be the first to admit that some parts of my set are “universally mediocre”.
But I’m working on it…
I must confess I have been tuning in occasionally to “Celebrity Big Brother”, and actually enjoying it.
When Terry Christian presented “The Word”, he was the most loathed man on television, as far as I was concerned.
But now I really like him ; he’s totally re-invented himself into a cool, funny guy, as well as coming up with the most quotable quote of this series ;
“Big egos and low self-esteem, that’s why we’re in the business…”
That is so true…not universally, but there’s a lot of it about…
I’ve also been greatly enjoying “Dead Set”.
I’m generally quite partial to zombie stuff anyway, but with a crackling Charlie Brooker script and some fantastic, innovative film editing also in the mix, it’s sublime viewing.
I'm currently watching "World Darts".
You could argue that aesthetically, it's ridiculous watching fat, middle-aged men parading about on stage to a bombastic rock soundtrack.
I disagree.
I like it.

They've found Tom!

2008-12-31T09:40:00.002Z

I felt like a bit of an escapist experience this week, so ended up going to see "The Great Escape" at the cinema.
It was grand to see it on the big screen again. It took me back to my experience of seeing it at the cinema as a little boy, and being totally blown away by it.
Watching the tunnelling stuff in a large darkened room really boosts the claustrophobic effect.
Since I virtually know the screenplay off by heart, I paid more attention to what was going on in the background of a lot of the scenes.
There is so much more to follow in the cinematic image as opposed to the compressed TV format.
For example, in the "4th of July party" scene, where all the POWs are getting trashed on locally distilled hooch, there is some hilariously bad acting by the extras.
They've obviously been told to "appear drunk" , but are doing this in a very unconvincing way by swinging their cups from side to side in a piratey fashion, with smaller groups linking their arms, and swaying about like an old music hall act.
There's also a "Hitler youth" kid who appears in the background of a number of scenes, as a form of Nazi window dressing.
James Coburn's Australian "accent" is still just as funny after all these years.
and Danny ("Tunnel King") played by Charles Bronson, still wears the most disgusting pair of brown corduoroy trousers to escape in, (presumably he was concerned about how his nerves would hold up in the tunnel?)

There are some bits of the film that seem more than a little unlikely, (apart from Steve McQueen's fence-jumping-motorbiking...obviously)
For instance, after the escape a few of the POWs head to the train station to catch the next train out of there.
Isn't this maybe chancing things?
Wouldn't the Germans have suspected this, and checked everyone arriving at the station?
I'd have stayed in the woods, but that might have made the film less interesting?
Also, it's difficult to imagine the circumstances in which a non-German speaking American pilot and a blind, English ornithologist, could penetrate the undoubtedly high security around a German air base, and nick off with one of their planes.
But this is nit picking...it is still the classic adventure yarn.
Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-27T19:32:00.002Z

Ok, watch this, it's very funny, ("funny" being a prized commodity in light of the relentless shite I've been watching on television for the last couple of days).
There was a landmark moment on "Match of the Day" last week.
Highlights of Hull City v Sunderland were being shown.
They both favoured stripey tops and dark shorts.
Yes, very interesting, but if you turned down the colour on the TV to "black and white" level they were virtually indistinguishable.
Has the day now arrived whereby no-one in Britain has a designated black-and-white telly?
Maybe the credit crunch will instigate a comeback? It's a cheaper license isn't it?
I kept my "Strictly Come Dancing" fan of a brother informed of the progress of the final as he dined in a Birmingham restaurant.
I eventually informed him that all the couples were level at the end, and they had been asked to do a "Charleston" with no prior rehearsal to decide the overall champion.
Much to my amusement he believed my cruel deception.
The positive element of this escapade is that rolling on the floor, kicking your legs in the air is a very effective aerobic exercise.
The amazingly talented Mark Lawrenson has been prattling on for weeks about how Robbie Keane can't fit into Liverpool's "system" and has no long term future at the club.
He seemed to play really well yesterday, scoring two goals in the 3-0 victory over Bolton.
I was curious to hear the great football philosopher's comments on this phenomenum after the game.
He didn't mention it.
Money for old rope...money for old rope...
My "Hackney" endeavors weren't mentioned at all over Christmas Dinner by my family.
They're a tough audience to impress...
I've been criticised in the last couple of days for being too eager to drop a reference on it into a conversation at a relatively early stage, as well as being slagged off for being too coy overall about it.
So that's it...no more mentions from me...!
I watched the second half of Rangers losing to Celtic today after a bit of a yomp round Holyrood Park.
A few years ago I would have been gutted at witnessing the debacle of the Gers losing at home to an eminently beatable Celtic side.
Today, I din't really feel anything, and found myself getting progressively bored watching it.
Bored? Watching an Old Firm game?
What is happening to me?

Cor Blimey!

2008-12-16T21:04:00.002Z

So anyway, I've been insanely busy at work for the last couple of weeks. By the time I get home I'm mentally frazzled and find the complicated plot structure of "Pingu The Penguin" a little too difficult to follow, so I just crash out.
I then rounded off the week with a lacklustre gig at The Stand in Glasgow.
I started and finished well, but there was a rather elongated mid-set slump.
I was chatting to some audience members at a break, and a few of them said that they thought I was funny and really liked me, but that they were too familiar with my material, having seen me several times doing a similar set.
I've always worried that this might be the case, particularly on Sunday nights in Glasgow where Michael Redmond has a cult following of regular attendees.
It was good to hear people say that though...
I thanked them and promised that on my next Sunday night there I would do a set of entirely new material, hopefully...
On a brighter note, I heard yesterday that I'm through to the final of the "Hackney New Act of the Year" competition on 17th January 2009.
I knew I'd had a really good gig in the heat, but experience has taught me to prepare for disappointment and treat anything else as a bonus.
The thought of possibly winning something like that doesn't enter my head...no chance...(well I would say that, wouldn't I?)
However, being introduced by one of my great comedy heroes, Arthur Smith, at the legendary Hackney Empire in front of 1500 people...Well, I'll have some of that!
That will be such a blast...!
Obviously, I hope I don't catastrophically die on my arse...but I've no fear about it. I'm just looking forward to having a bit of an adventure...
Apparently, the crowd can be quite feisty, and I can't rule out the possibility of hearing a resounding chorus of "Fack Off... You Cant!" ,sung to the tune of "Amazing Grace", echoing round the cavernous theatre as I depart from the stage.
But hopefully this won't happen.

I wish it could be Xmas every day! (I don't really...)

2008-12-14T12:29:00.000Z

So anyway, I found a film of this fat twat doing stand-up comedy...
There's definitely some kind of potential there though, doncha think? chortle chortle
Actually, I'm a bit disappointed with this clip.
For some reason the sound is very muffled, and gives the impression that the clip was recorded using some prehistoric condenser microphone.
It was a very lively night, and the clip doesn't really reflect that...(I would say that though, wouldn't I?)
I've been under the cosh somewhat in my daytime job, working long hours and getting mentally frazzled.
This has played havoc with my Xmas social commitments, and has resulted in me having to make several cancellations.
It's somewhat irritating to see people coming back from big boozy lunches, laughing and joking as I sit hunched behind my computer with an expression frozen in angst.
(quite similar to the facial expression that Paul Ince is currently favouring)
Mind you, my liver is having an unexpected holiday, as this time of the year is normally its "crazy time".
I decided to go the gym today but it was closed for redecoration.
I was hoping that the ventriloquist dummy was going to win "X-Factor" last night, but unfortunately he was the first to be eliminated.
However, the fact that a ventriloquist dummy was able to get all the way to the final must give all the nation's ventriloquist dummies incredible confidence and hope for the future.
There was a strange segment in the programme in which they paraded a selection of the most bizarro auditionees to come out and do an ensemble version of "Thank You For The Music".
It all felt very wrong...
There were obviously some singers who knew they were mental and crap and rejoiced in it.
However, there were also some who (judging from the auditions) actually believed they had star potential in spite of massive evidence to the contrary, and argued vehemently against their elimination.
It was quite sad to see them swallow their pride and appear in a "Parade of Shite" for our "entertainment".
The problem is, singing out of tune isn't really funny, it's just extremely painful to listen to.
I don't usually watch X-Factor though, ok?
I was just having a tea break from work.

And another thing....

2008-12-06T13:22:00.003Z

I neglected to mention that the much esteem'd Electric Mouse comedy club was started up again last week at Espionage in Victoria Street.
Graeme Harkins did a sterling job compering, with Tommy Mackay, Me, The Hobbit, Martin McAllister and Gordon Alexander making up the bill.
We had a reasonable crowd in and they seemed pretty happy with the product, so we'll be doing another in January.
I was down in London this week, and did a "Hackney Empire New Act of the Year" show.
I'm pretty anti-competition, but this was a really enjoyable gig, and it was good to catch up with old muckers of the comedy world.
It didn't really feel like your typical, common-or-garden comedy competition show.
It's basically a heat, amongst several, from which they select a number of finallists to appear next year at the famed "Hackney Empire" of old London town.
There's no winners announced on the night as they just pick a selection after seeing all the heats ; therefore you avoid crushing disappoinment and can remain happily delusional for a while.
I had a really good gig but wondered later if I'd maybe crammed too much material into my spot, (I reverted to a babbling 100mph delivery...just like the old days...I really enjoyed it!)
The flight back to Edinburgh on the next day was horrendous.
There was really bad turbulence for the whole journey, and I couldn't wait to get off the cigar tube of death.
I am something of a nervous flyer, but can usually cope with it ok. However this pushed me to the limit, and I was on the point of running up and down the aisle screaming "We're all going to die!!!"
Thankfully, I didn't have an aisle seat, and this kept me restrained.
In the worst of the turbulence, I did feel a need to begin talking to the man beside me.
I think this is a primal urge, in that we feel the need to make some sort of contact, rather than die with a group of strangers you know nothing about.
Unfortunately, he turned out to be one of the most boring people I've ever met in my life.
In some ways this was a good thing, as he made the turbulence look good in comparison.
But hey...I made it!
I'll get the bus next time I think...
Talking of competitions, I had this idea for a new comedy competition.
It's called "Universally Funny Comedian Of The Year".
There will be a series of heats in different solar systems of the Universe, with a Grand Final next year on Earth (well it's my idea, so my planet should be allowed to host the inaugural final!)
(I'd thought of a good opening line for an act..."Well, I'm surprised there's no heat on the sun for this competiton! Aye thang u!)
To qualify you have to have lived in the Universe for the last 12 months, or be married to someone who's lived in the Universe for the last 12 months...
and that's about it...there's big money prizes and a vague promise of some gigs in deep space.
It's a winner, I think...!

Feeling a bit fragile today....

2008-11-30T19:03:00.000Z

Last night was the official post-Fringe wrap night out of the "No Comedy For Old Men" troupe.
A curry was followed by a Stand visit, then onwards to a party in Bruntsfield.
The evening commenced at 6pm, and ended when I got home at 5.15am
Unfortunately, drinking for 11 continuous hours has had the surprising effect of making me feel like absolute shit today.
Who would have thought it?
People should be warned about this...these adverts in posh casinos with people dancing about drinking "Cinzano Bianco" aren't telling the whole story.
It was a right old laugh of a night out though...very entertaining.
Last weekend at The Stand went really well, although the Saturday night was a fairly mediocre night for me.
2 out of 3 is pretty respectable though for the first time doing that spot.
The other bad news is that after 3 months and 3 days of smug righteousness, I slipped off the nicotine wagon, and succumbed to the lure of the coffin nail.
It's a comedy club thing...it's always at a comedy club that this happens...
Oh well, never mind...I'll stop again at New Year as is traditional.
I suppose the fact I haven't smoked for 3 months is still vaguely beneficial to my health.
I don't find giving up stressful, and don't use any aids like patches or chewing gum or owt like that.
It was beginning to get dark as I emerged from my pit today.
I hate when this happens...
A whole day has been lost...life is too short for that sort of shit.
Right, I'm off to the pub.

Ouch!

2008-11-22T15:02:00.001Z

I took a bit of a tumble down the stairs outside my house last week and ended up smashing my ribs off the stone steps.
I was initially relieved that I hadn't broken any limbs or cracked my head, but found it difficult to get out of bed on the following day.
I was accompanied by a visiting Spanish dignitary, and she said it was "The funniest thing I have seen in my life ever!".
This sustained me in my time of crisis.
Now I've had quite a few injuries...I've broken my wrist, broken one of my metatarsal bones (long before it was fashionable), torn various knee ligaments and broken my scaphoid a couple of times...
However, if you took all these events and accumulated all the pain involved, it would still come nowhere near the level of pain I experienced when I sneezed the day after my fall.
I nearly passed out, and dropped to the floor in absolute agony.
I'd have confessed to anything at this point, if threatened with another sneeze.
I shudder to think what would have happened if I'd injured myself in summer and had one of my standard hay fever sneezing fits.
I think it would have killed me...I would have had to stay in a bubble until Autumn.
With the help of industrial quantities of codeine I've managed to cope with the pain, but it's been nasty.
On a lighter note, I'm spending the weekend doing the opening spot at The Stand, and am very happy with the way it is going.
It's the first time I've done this spot over a weekend, so I have to be pleased that so far I've had 2 solid gigs.
Jason Cook is also on the bill, and I've been mesmerised by his brilliance as a performer.
He's one of these acts that you watch as a comedian and think "what is the point?", in terms of your own act.
I've undoubtedly had a couple of really good gigs, but watching Jason take the roof off really puts things into perspective.
To employ a musical metaphor, it was like I was playing a kazoo solo for 15 minutes on stage, before making way for John Coltrane to play some tasty jazz sax.
He's such a totally natural performer, it's sickening.
It's a really good line-up though all round, and everyone has been doing well...
Still one night to go though...hope I'm not tempting fate by prematurely proclaiming the weekend a success. Ha Ha.

Father Jack

2008-11-07T12:10:00.001Z

I intended not to drink yesterday, and had earmarked the day to kick-start an ambitious 7 day abstinence from the evil that is alcohol.
Unfortunately there were problems.
I’m entertaining tomorrow night and decided to make a stew with guinness to feed my celebrity friends.
I only needed one can of guinness, but was shocked to discover that my local Sainsburys mini-store only sold cans of guinness in 4-packs.
I panicked and ended up buying 4 cans.
Of course, having used one can for cooking purposes, I decided that the fridge was getting dangerously cluttered and it would be sensible to drink the remaining 3 cans and allow the fridge to function more efficiently and emit less CFCs.
I’ve heard it said that people who have an alcohol problem will effectively be in denial for a long time before accepting their condition, and will typically use an enormous range of pathetic excuses to justify their drinking practices.
As far as I’m concerned, that’s a load of old nonsense.
In fairness, I deserved a drink after participating in a football match in which I fearlessly saved a thunderbolt shot with my testicles.
Disappointingly, we still lost heavily…
Today is the Glenrothes by-election.
It must be very disappointing for Glenrothes that the election is happening so soon after the US election, and has been more or less completely ignored by the media.
This is a shame, as a by-election gives a town a unique opportunity to promote itself to a UK audience through the regular TV coverage leading up to the day of the poll.
A lot of tourism potential has been missed.
If you are a fan of the St James Centre in Edinburgh, then think of a hundred similar versions of it all in one town, and there’s Glenrothes for you.
It is an architectural gem of the highest order.
An ornate delight of concreting excellence.
They have pubs and everything!
Not that I’d be particularly interested in that because, to be honest with you, as far as alcohol goes, I can take it or leave it.

So Long Dubya!

2008-11-05T08:50:00.000Z

Having decided to join the gym at work, I dragged myself in at lunchtime to get an idea of my current level of fitness.
I was not impressed.
I was a lot fitter when I was smoking.
I think the problem is that having given up smoking (nearly 3 months now), I have been drinking more alcohol..
I’ve not been getting drunk or anything like that, so don’t give me any of your tsk tsk stuff.
However, I’ve got into the habit of having some alcohol every day, and it definitely has the effect of making you progressively more and more sluggish.
I never used to do this.
I noticed that my main man Melvyn Bragg never drinks alcohol during the first week of the month, in order to demonstrate to himself that he is in control of his habit.
So, if it’s good enough for Melvyn then it’s good enough for me.
He also acknowledges that occasionally he likes to drink a lot of alcohol.
I think this is fine unless you are one of these people who turn into a psycho after a certain amount of alcohol..
I just talk louder, make stupid jokes and then fall asleep.
Although, apparently I do have a predilection for talking/shouting in my sleep after a generous serving of alcohol.
Surprisingly, hardly anything has been written about this Ross/Brand “Manuelgate” episode, so here’s my fascinating thoughts on the issue….
I have never found Jonathan Ross funny at all.
I accept that a lot of other people think he is hilarious.
I respect their right to think this, but they are completely wrong.
Russell Brand is capable of genius both as a writer and a stand-up, but he wasn’t being very funny in this instance.
I hate the Daily Mail with a vengeance, but they had a point this time.
I’ve always found the £18 million Ross contract flabbergasting, and would much rather the money had been spent on an alternative range of smaller BBC projects.
This has nothing to do with “censorship”…
There’s lots of comment expressing worry that this will compromise the BBC’s “cutting edge” comedy. Ha Ha!
I very rarely enjoy any comedy on the BBC, and find the majority of their current and recent output to be garbage…
I’ve had my fill of the endless “panel games”, and recent sitcoms such as “Two Pints”, “Grownups” etc etc leave me totally bemused by their unrelenting awfulness.
And talking of Manuel, I once showed an episode of “Fawlty Towers” to a Mexican friend of mine and she thought it was ”the most racist television programme” she had ever seen.
What does this add to the debate?
I’ve no idea…
And it’s President Obama! woo hoo!
He’s not going to be a particularly radical president, mainly because the economy is in such a mess, he has very little room to manoeuvre.
However, it’s great to see that the number of people using their vote in America has rocketed.
The Republicans might struggle to win another election, as they’ve always been the main benefactors of the traditionally poor turnout.

Vogue vogue vogue...

2008-10-27T20:44:00.003Z

One of the benefits of working temporarily in a zany insurance office is that I get a chance to see what the current fashion trends are amongst urban professionals.
I'm thrilled to observe that the knitted tank top is making a big, big comeback.
It's also clear that some men are using the opportunity presented by a less rigid formal dress code (ie the tie is no longer compulsory), to wear their golf gear to the office.
Slacks, sleeveless golf shirts and Pringle sweaters are very much de rigeur.
It's a great privilege to be exposed to this high fashion sensibility on a daily basis, and I'm hoping that some of it will eventually rub off on me, and I will at last achieve my lifelong ambition of being a global style icon.
Other than fashion news, I decided to try the canteen today, and immediately regretted it ; although not as much as my colleague Nigel did, when presented with his salmon steak which looked like it had been cooked in the late 1960s and heated up for him today.
Looks like myself and fellow comedy man Graeme will be running a fortnightly comedy club at the Espionage in Edinburgh starting at the end of November.
We're planning on running it on a Friday night, early evening, and using the Fringe show format, ie an approximately 80 minute show with no interval.
The idea is that people have a chance to split the evening between comedy and being out on the lash/dancing.
Anyway, it will be an interesting experiment.
In exciting Home Improvement news, I'm getting the windows draught-proofed this week.
I reckon by 2039 this work will have paid for itself in the resultant energy savings.

9 To 5

2008-10-21T22:44:00.003+01:00

One good thing is that I don't have to take the morning train, as it's only a 12 minute walk from my home to the office.
It's fair to say that my return to the wacky world of IT contracting is proving every bit as enjoyable as I had anticipated.
Pension Schemes' online transactions rock I tell you..., and anyone who disagrees is a right cunt!
I had a bit of a chuckle as I went and purchased a cup of tea at the cafe bit.
I think I've done about 8 separate contracts here over the last 10 years, and this guy has always served me my cuppa.
In spite of buying probably a four figure number of cups off him, he still refuses to acknowledge me with any pleasantry or greeting, or engage in the most perfunctory of idle banter.
He knows I always have a tea but he never second guesses my choice in a way that a friendly bartender might.
There is almost something gently re-assuring about his studied indifference to his customers.
No, it's not just me. I have discussed this with others who share the same experience.
If he ever says "So you're back! How are you doing? Tea?", the shock would probably kill me.
Had a hugely enjoyable gig at The Stand on Sunday, and it was grand witnessing Andrew O'Neill's glorious, nonsensical rambling for the first time. Quality.
There was also a young guy Stephen Callaghan doing a 5 minute spot, who I'd never seen before and thought was bleeding hilarious.
This lightened my mood, as I contemplated the next day shock of employment.
The first day was ok, but I perhaps ill-advisedly went out to watch "Red Raw" in the evening, and ended up slurping down 6 pints of Amstell lager whilst sharing witty badinage with the ample comedy radar blips of Gordon Alexander and Antony Murray.
All very entertaining, but left me feeling like shit on Tuesday morning.
Must try harder.
Watched the final episode of "Sunshine" with Steve Coogan.
To be honest it's all a bit twee, but it still left me choked at the end, shamelessly manipulating my vulnerable old emotions.
Yes, I am such a big fucking sap these days, you wouldn't believe.
I still can't be bothered with football..
I watched a bit of Man U v Celtic but got bored and switched over.
20 years ago that fixture would have been hyped for weeks in advance, and it would have been deemed unthinkable to miss it.
Tonight's match was completely devoid of edge and excitement.
I got a contract in the post today for a gig down south that I got by speculatively sending out my comedy cv and gig audio to a few promoters.
A simple event, but one that made me feel like a "proper" comedian.
And yes...I know, I know just how wanky that sounds...but does my face look bothered?
No it jolly well does not...so there!
Don't judge me...

Woo Hoo! It's Winter Time....!

2008-10-18T09:51:00.001+01:00

After a couple of problematic gigs followed by the cancellation in Glasgow, I had a cracker at the Heresy Club at the Jekyll & Hyde.
That bar has been something of a happy hunting ground for me of late.
Other thoughts.
The voices of "River Cottage" presenter Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and "Channel 4 News" presenter Jon Snow are virtually indistinguishable.
I have cancelled my Cable Sports subscription.
I have finally realised that I have fallen out of love with football, (Kris Boyd's post-Scotland v Norway, stupid, scowling face and reading Chick Young's ludicrous BBC Blog helped me arrive at this decision), and would rather use time spent watching it doing something else.
I'm not paying these twats wages any more.
I'm bored with the obsession with "Champions League millions".
I'm pissed off that there is no great improvement in Scottish footballers' technique, in comparison with other nations.
I watched the last US Presidential Debate this week.
It was slightly more interesting than the preceding debates, in that they finally had a bit of a pop at each other.
It was all still faintly anodyne stuff though, and most of the debate "action" has been as interesting as watching 2 men conducting independent powerpoint presentations.
I think you have to go back to 1988 to when there was a real big moment in one of these debates.
This was a classic moment when Lloyd Bentsen caught Dan Quayle with a big sucker punch.
It's particularly noticeable that the audience were a lot more involved in those days.
The audience in the modern version are obviously told not to react vocally to anything that is said during the course of the debate.
I quite like this one as well...
Ronald Reagan's face is a picture as his "There you go again..." line is thrown back at him with interest.
All very entertaining, but in the end George Bush (the first) and Reagan still won the elections in question, so maybe they don't matter that much anyway.

Take Me To The Bridge

2008-10-08T16:28:00.001+01:00

My Ryder Cup betting triumph has been somewhat overshadowed by the disastrous effect of the credit crunch on me poor old shares.
I don't want to dwell on this other than state it is just as well that I live in a basement flat.
By way of a new hobby,I have begun the practice of burning cash in a brazier in my back garden.
This is quicker and easier than buying shares, with the additional benefit that I don't have to pay dealing charges.
It's a win/win situation.
Things have come to such a sorry pass that I have been forced back into IT Contract slavery, and begin to serve another 3 month sentence on the 20th October.
It's a sair fecht.
Last Saturday presented an opportunity to return to the scene of this disastrous gig.
It remains my most catastrophic gig ever,and probably merits a top 10 position in the pantheon of "worst gigs experienced in the history of stand-up comedy".
But here was a chance of redemption...14 months after the event.
Comedy impresario, "Honest" Rick Molland drove myself and 2 other acts through to Glasgow for the evening.
By coincidence he had been the MC at my disastrous gig.
He took great delight in regaling the tale of my previous downfall to the other acts.
Oh how we laughed!
It's fair to say that a certain amount of exagerration has crept into the telling of the tale, but this is very much in the great storytelling tradition, and it would be churlish of me to object to it.
I expect that by this time next year, the legend will have it that an estimated total of 400 people walked out the gig as I ranted and raved , of which 23 later committed ritual suicide in Sauchiehall Street, so traumatised were they by my display.
But this time it was going to be different.
I was gig fit, and was ready to spring on stage like a lean, mean boxer and punch someone in the front row in the face, metaphorically, with my jokes.
In the end, 3 people showed up, and the gig was cancelled...
What made the night worthwhile was that we were afforded two views, from an east and west perspective, of the the new pedestrian bridge which has been placed at Harthill on the M8.
It has cost 5 million quid and was placed there by "the largest mobile crane in the world".
So to be among the first 10 000 or so people to have seen the bridge from the M8 made it a very special evening, in spite of our disappointment at the cancellation of the gig.

27/09/04 Golf IS cool

2008-09-27T20:47:00.004+01:00

And lo, it came to pass that the USA did in fact win the Ryder Cup...
kerrching....kerrching!
It actually was a lot closer than the final score suggests, and could have gone either way, but anyway...a nice payday for me.
It's a real shame that the Ryder Cup is on "Sky", as it needs to get seen by a bigger audience.
It's the most gripping sports event of all, I think.
I'd compare the last day of the Ryder Cup to watching 5 hours of back-to-back penalty shootouts.
It's such a PR own goal by the Golf administrators to not sell the rights to a terrestrial channel...
Anyway, I suspect my "cool rating" is plummeting faster than a portfolio of Banking shares, as a result of my weird, evangelical ode to the great game of golf.
The golf bet was just a one-off and I am not resuming my football betting regime.
Having just watched Arsenal lose at home to Hull City served as a reminder of the dangers of football betting.
That is definitely the grandaddy of all coupon bustin' results, I'd say.
I just sent a text to an Arsenal supporting friend, who was at the game, asking if he knew who the comedian was who had the pet emu.
Ha Ha...amn't I the funny one...! what?
I jogged/walked to the top of Arthur's seat yesterday...
It was a cracking day, and I was joined at the top by a group of American tourists who cooed at what a fantastic view it was and what a "truly beautiful city" Edinburgh was.
After a few minutes a group of teenagers, with recogniseable local accents appeared.
One piped up loudly "Ya Cnut ya...! Imagine sledging doon that...!!!" as he surveyed the view from the summit.
I felt very proud.
On the way down, I met three witches...
They said something like "Teddy should win....but that Rab Brown, riding a black stallion still might pose a threat".
I've no idea what they were on about, but maybe it will become clear later?
I woke up in the middle of the night and started jotting things down which seemed funny at the time, but in the cold light of day I'm not sure...but I'll give them a bash at a gig on Tuesday...
...well here's what I wrote...
I was in Canada and I was talking to a Grizzly Bear.
I said "Have you ever killed a salmon with your bare hands?"
He said "Yes"...in a sarcastic tone.

Do you know when you're trying to take off a wellington boot, and you're easing your foot out, and sometimes you leave the sock behind in the boot, when you finally pull it out?
That's a bit like when you take your jumper off and your t-shirt comes off at the same time, isn't it?
That's my observational humour bit.

And, I've got 2 hurricanes chatting to each other.
"Did you see me? did you see me? I took the roof off!"

I also have started a new treatment aimed at obese women with self-esteem issues.
I'm calling my approach, "Hippotherapy".

I saw a cracking film last night.
It was a German film called "The Wave".
It's about a teacher at a High School in Germany who has a week to teach his class about the political doctrine "Autocracy".
He decides to fully immerse his pupils in the subject, and for the week they create a "movement" and explore the ideology of the greater good of the "group" subjugating that of the individual.
Of course, things get a little out of hand.
There were a few moments when credulity was stretched, but overall a compelling movie.
It's like a reverse of "Dead Poets Society".
I have to say that it did at times make the conversion to a fascist mentality enormously appealing and fun, even though, of course, I would oppose this happening.
Obviously.

16/09/08 Awesome

2008-09-16T12:48:00.001+01:00

I recommend you go to see "Man On Wire".
What a brilliant, absolutely compelling tale.
I still can't believe he had the balls to do that.
There was something very eerie about his total self-belief and nervelessness.
I suspect I'm not the first person to say so, but it was great to be presented with
an amazingly memorable, uplifting image in the context of the twin towers, rather than forever associating them with the gruesome footage of planes smashing into the the buildings.
I also saw "The Mighty Boosh" live.
Very funny, but a little bit too much playing at being rock stars with their Boosh Band.
The bits I find funniest are the front-of-curtain banter sections with the 2 of them just riffing with each other and the audience.
When I watched "Morecambe & Wise" as a kid, it was always the similar thing they did at the start of the show which was my favourite bit.
I was never a fan of the big musical numbers or patchy sketches.
I have now gone a month without smoking, as the latest campaign to free myself from the evil addiction gathers momentum.
That's the good news...the bad news is I have to lose some weight again.
As usual I'd lost a fair amount during the Fringe, but coupled with not smoking, I've approached September and food with the attitude of a bear emerging from hibernation, scoffing anything that moves.
Last night I sat down on a stool and it buckled and broke.
This was maybe about to happen regardless of who sat on it, but I can't be sure and I can't afford the expense of hiring a structural engineer to analyse the stool to determine if there had been a certain amount of pre-existing, inherent weakness in the stool.

13/09/2008 My Lovely Ryder Cup

2008-09-13T13:41:00.000+01:00

I took the plunge today and bet on the USA to lift the Ryder Cup.
I feel downright dirty and wrong, but succumbed to my base instincts.
I was unable to resist their current underdog status at the bookies.
I can't help feeling that the plot of this year's event is similar to the Father Ted epsisode in which Dougal & Ted are entered by Ireland into the Eurovision Song Contest as a ploy, to ensure that Ireland have no chance of winning, and therefore don't have to fork out to host yet another event, for the following year.
There is surely a parallel in the decision to appoint Nick Faldo as the Europe captain.
He is a loner with no concept of "team", and as well as being the most successful ever UK golfer, he also the least popular ever with his fellow pros.
He's bound to make some ill-advised remarks which will pump up the Americans, and I just can't see him as the great motivator.
The event itself needs an American win to re-invigorate it, as Europe has started to dominate.
Faldo could be the man to deliver this.
I think this is what the European Golf administrators are planning.

I did my first opening 15 on one of the "weekend" nights at The Stand this week.
I was really happy with the way it went.
It certainly wasn't barnstorming, but after a slow start the middle and end went really well.
I don't recall ever sweating as much as that onstage though.
I'm not sure what the cause was, but I was gushing big time.
Perhaps it was the large anount of wine I'd knocked back the previous evening at a gala dinner thing. Who knows?
I got a lot of positive feedback from random audience members after the event, although on the debit side, a friend of a friend heard someone in the bogs describe me as "shit".
So, no room for complacency then.
Of course, the "shit" comment outweighed all the other positive comments in my post-gig mood, but that's the way it is.
We just want to be loved by everyone I suppose.
Very pathetic and very needy....

10/09/2008 Scary

2008-09-10T12:43:00.001+01:00

There was an amusing moment during Sarah Palin's speech at the Republican Convention last week, when she proclaimed that one of the consequences of an Obama presidency would be "an increase in death taxes".
At this point the camera cut to an elderly delegate in the audience (looking concerned).
It was immediately clear that the TV production crew viewed her as the audience member most likely to be affected in the short term by this alleged impact of Democratic fiscal policy.
You also see this kind of thing at the Oscars ceremony.
Every year there is a poignant section in which images of movie people, who have passed on during the current year, are flashed onto the screen.
At the end of this montage, the camera flashes round the auditorium, blatantly pinpointing those in the audience who might make it into next year's remembrance section.
I had a troublesome gig at The Stand last week in which some drunken twat shouted out all through my set.
I couldn't make sense of what he was trying to say, so just ploughed on...but not a very enjoyable show.
But on a more positive note, I went round my golf course in level par.
As a moment of sporting triumph, this knocks our successful Olympic athletes into a cocked hat.
I've never done this at Dalmeny before.
It's unprecedented.
I can tell you're impressed.
Never mind...

31/08/08 Up North

2008-08-31T15:32:00.002+01:00

I've been away in sunny Crovie for a couple of days visiting my pals Sim and Bob, their daughters Harper and Alice and their greyhound dug Honey.
It was a hugely enjoyable contrast to the madness what is the Fringe, and I now feel suitably refreshed.
The banter was exceptional, the weather was great and I had the best seafood I've ever eaten in my life (fresh oysters and scallops).
I did have a slight disappointment in that I only beat Bob 5 & 4 at golf, after being 7 up after 10 holes, but hopefully I'll soon come to terms with this disappointment and move on.
It was great to see Honey tearing up and down a deserted beach at full speed..a truly awesome force of nature to witness at first hand.
To give some perspective, a greyhound has been recorded running 100m in 4.97 sec, (Usain Bolt's new world record is 9.62 seconds).
So if the two were in a race, rather than just a quick chest thump and a wave at the finish, the greyhound would probably have time to stop and have a quick shit, and still win the race comfortably.
I got talking with Alice (5) on the memory of a previous much-loved dog of theirs who'd passed on a couple of years ago.
Alice was aware that the dog had been taken to the vet to be "put to sleep", however she surprised me by confiding that the vet had "cut Jack in half".
I'm not quite sure how she had come to believe this, but it was a revelation that caused more than a few giggles as I drove back home to Edinburgh.
In general, it was much more relaxing and straightforward spending a lot of time talking to Harper (8) and Alice, rather than the previous month's experience of chatting to comedians about the Fringe, their shows, their audience numbers, their reviews, their material etc
It's a minefield and it's very easy to slip up and inadvertently upset someone with an unwise choice of words.
(and I'm just as bad and over-sensitive as anyone else, I hasten to add)
It's like spending a month playing one of these games you get at Gala Days where you have to guide a metal loop around some bendy wire, trying not to touch the wire and set off the alarm.
Hard work.
Had another 3 gigs last week which fell into the "solid but unspectacular" category.
Last night, I was playing my congas with my neighbour's band at a Sports Club prizegiving evening.
I enjoy the playing, but always find this event a little odd, as no-one seems to acknowledge we're actually there...(an occasional single clap at the end of a song, and that's it)
There was a little late flurry of dancing this time, and in fairness the food was good, and free pints will always be welcomed as far as I am concerned.
At the end of the set, the female saxophonist remarked on how much she had enjoyed my conga playing, and said that I had a "great sense of rhythm".
I have to admit, that I did have an "absolute stormer" in terms of conga playing...(it's great to write your own reviews, isn't it? It really takes the stress out of being reviewed, and I recommend it heartily to all comedians/musicians/whatever)
She went on to say that the previous drummer she'd played with here 2 years ago was "rubbish...and all over the place!".
I took great amusement in informing her that this drummer was me as well...(I think I may have overdone it on the "free pints" last time)
It's good to get honest reviews...

26/08/08 It's All Over

2008-08-26T18:34:00.003+01:00

So the circus has headed out of town for another year...
Last Saturday, I was quite relieved to have finished off the 17 day run of NCFOM and put my feet up for the rest of the Fringe.
However, I ended up doing 12 extra gigs last week, including a run of afternoon Electric Mouse shows at the "Jekyll & Hyde" that I'd rate as amongst the most satisfying gigs I've ever done.
I just seemed to find an extra comedy gear from somewhere, and a few of them I'd even hesitantly describe as "absolute stormers".
I'm itching to get back into a comedy club and keep the momentum going, because obviously I'm scared of forgetting whatever it is I am doing now that is getting a much bigger reaction than at the start of the Fringe.
I thought Rhod Gilbert should have won the big award thing, and thought it pathetic and patronising that the "Spirit of the Fringe Award" was given to "all the comedians on the Fringe".
There are loads of Fringe stalwarts who could have been deservedly recognised by this award, but they blew it and went for a stupid gimmick dreamt up by some pissed PR jackass.
I suspect Rhod was maybe the victim of politics ; being unwittingly associated with the idiotic branding calamity that was "The Edinburgh Comedy Festival".
I suspect it won't re-appear next year.
I do really like David O'Doherty, but I just thought that Mr Gilbert was out on his own this year.
But anyway, as I've said before, I hate competitions.
Other things I learned this year...
Free late gigs are to be avoided.
A completely pissed audience with no financial investment in a show isn't worth the hassle.
One of the rituals of such event is a succession of tired, jaded comedians politely asking the compere if they can "get on early"...
The compere then puts on the classic car mechanic expression when you ask how much they reckon the repair will cost....
So you do a gig to a few pissed up members of the public, and a few pissed off comedians, who realise they have to hang about longer than they wanted.
It's ideal!
And to Edinburgh drivers....cheer up you miserable bastards!
Do you really need to be taking your car anyway ,wherever you are going?
Driving during the Fringe is bad enough, but with the ubiquitous tram roadworks added to the equation, you ain't going anywhere particularly quickly, so just relax and stop being such aggressive twats.

19/08/08 I'd like to thank....

2008-08-19T12:02:00.000+01:00

Well, that sure was swell....
I'm glad the run is over as I can now gad about seeing loads of other shows, but it'd be fair to say that's the best I've ever enjoyed being involved in a Fringe show...
It was big crowds all the way, and a happy bunch of co-performers with whom it was a pleasure to put on a show.
I'd also like to make a special big thanks to Dave Reilly for taking the time and effort to record our intro tape.
He is truly a man of the people....
And a big thank 'ee kindly to all our special guest spots!
And thanks to the Meridian Bar Staff who were all extremely supportive of the show.
(It isn't always like this...and yes, "Roman Eagle Lodge", I am talking about you...)
We had a greatlast show on Saturday.
Some people couldn't get into the venue as it was absolutely full.
It's always nice when you have friends along for the show to witness this.
It looks fairly impressive.
This situation could only have been improved upon if an A-List comedian turned up, was unable to get in, resulting in me having to tell him to piss off...
Somewhat like the old joke in which a man gets Frank Sinatra to approach him in a bar to impress a lady he's with, and ends up saying "Fuck off Frank, I'm busy...".
I've particularly enjoyed the pisstake introductions for each other which we introduced throughout the run of the show.
Audiences seem to really enjoy the acts taking big swipes at each other in an affectionate way.
Also, the NCFOM team have been approached about running a regular comedy night at The Meridian, which would be good.
Oh, and I've stopped smoking again...
I was watching the Olympics Steeplechase race last night...
It's something of an oddity isn't it?
I mean, what is the point of the "water jump"...
It must have been a real pain for the people who built nice, new athletic tracks to comply with the requirements of having a hole in the track filled with water.
What?
Why?
Who are the Steeplechase runners...
Are they people who aren't fast enough to just run, but have more of a chance if there's "jumping over things" element?
(obviously the answer is yes)

08/08/08 Hey Edinburgh!

2008-08-08T14:17:00.000+01:00

Only kidding.
I am still having a fun time (yes, really!)
Predictably, after our frankly, amazing crowds for the first few shows, it has been a bit quieter over the last few days.
The monsoon conditions haven't helped.
Anyway, we have fairly solid bookings for the next few days so should be back to playing to big, happy crowds rather than to slightly bewildered looking, smaller ones.
Yesterday was by far my worst gig, as the small audience just stared at me for 15 minutes.
There was a bad omen before the gig which led me to suspect this might be a bad gig.
I was on the number 12 bus heading down Leith Walk.
Towards the end of my journey a man came upstairs and sat in front of me.
It immediately became apparent that he'd shat himself at some point within the preceding few days.
As I got out my seat to alight at the next stop, I started gagging and it took superhuman powers of control on my part to stop me projectile vomiting down the stairs of the bus on my way off it.
It really was the worst smell I have ever experienced in my life.
It wasn't an ideal pre-gig preparation by any stretch of the imagination.
Other notes to self.
Shut up.
ie don't laughingly say to a a crowd of comedians "I wonder how many crap comedians will be referring to the "Credit Crunch" as a type of biscuit during the Fringe...!"
(I could tell from some of the expressions on the comedians' faces that they themselves had such "Credit Crunch" material)
Probably better to keep such prejudices to myself.
I chuckled when I heard that one of our guest spots referred to the "3 Weeks" reviewers as "very enthusiastic".
There's definitely a subtext going on in that quote.
I don't think we've had any more reviewers in since the "3 Weeks" one, but I'm quite happy with that.
It'd be nice to get one today or tomorrow, as we are going to be very busy again.

04/08/08 Fringe Update

2008-08-04T13:48:00.001+01:00

Well, it's been a pretty hectic few days as the Fringe has swung into action.
"No Comedy For Old Men" has been ticking along nicely.
We had a reviewer from "3 Weeks" in for our first night which could have been a disaster, but turned into a great start with a surprisingly big crowd.
(review posted at bottom of blog)
Friday was a little quieter with about 20 in, but then we had 60 plus on Saturday.
On the basis of my previous experience of doing Fringe shows, these numbers are pretty sensational.
I had worried about the remoteness of the venue, but it seems that perhaps the remoteness is working in our favour as there are not many other venues in our particular area.
I enjoyed watching Wilson Dixon and Arnold Brown knock 'em dead at The Stand launch party on Thursday.
The biggest laughs of the Fringe so far for me were watching Richard Herring's "Wanking Off Paedophiles" story.
I was in serious pain from laughing, and came perilously close to falling off my seat at one point in the proceedings.
I'm also delighted to see his "Headmaster's Son" show get 5 stars on Chortle.
Ok, I'm a fan, but he definitely deserves more recognition in terms of the consistently brilliant shows he brings up to the Fringe year after year.
I was worried for him this year as he foolishly decided to go head-to-head with our show in the 7-8pm slot.
I hope it hasn't cost him too much at the box-office.
I also played my drum in the Festival Cavalcade Procession with the Edinburgh Samba School.
It was the first time I'd done it for a while, and it was very enjoyable to be back in the groove...
We seemed to upset many of the army stewards for moving too slowly along Princes Street...maybe we're all just getting a bit older...
The feel of the event has changed though...the Samba School was always an eclectic mixture of individuals...hard-core, alternative tree-huggers rubbing shoulders with those with more conventional lifestyles....A little of that diversity seems to have gone...but hey it was great fun!
Pissed, on Saturday night, I mentioned to a couple of fellow samba players that I was speaking to "Arthur Smith" the night before.
This prompted a raising of virtual handbags under chins and a chorus of "woooooos", as I was roundly accused of being a shameless name-dropper.
It's a funny one...the only reason I mentioned it was that Arthur Smith is a legend, and one of my true comedy heroes, and it was a thrill to speak to him.
I'm certainly not trying to impress anyone by saying that I spoke to him. I was merely being honest that it was a special moment for me to meet one of my idols...but anyway, as I said to Stewart Lee later on in the same evening, "People are cunts.." :-)
I'd also recommend "Teddy Bares" at The Stand...a delightfully dark and witty journey from one of Scotland's top comics.

No Comedy For Old Men - Free
Laughing Horse Free Festival - Gordon Alexander, Jeff O'Boyle, Jim Park and Martin McAllister
Cheered on by enthusiastic locals and some Celts outside the venue for good measure (yes, there is performer/audience interaction - that's how I know!) this is clearly the comedy event to go to if you want to mingle with the natives. The predictable themes of Bush, asylum seekers and sex are all covered but the toilet paper raffle ending is one hundred percent unique, as is a hilarious account by O'Boyle on Irish in-breeding (I'm Cornish, I understand).This may not be the cleverest or the funniest show on the Fringe but it sums up what the festival is all about: friends who love to have a laugh together, cold pint of beer, good atmosphere... and all for the bargain price of nothing!
Laughing Horse @ Meridian, 31 Jul - 16 Aug, 7.05pm (8.05pm), free, fpp 82.
tw rating 3/5
[bw]

26/07/08 Not working for the man

2008-07-26T17:16:00.001+01:00

My contract finished yesterday...yee ha!
It feels good to chill out and be a free man again, although I really should be spending all my spare time getting into a state of readiness for the upcoming Fringe.
A few folk in the comedy business have recently told me that I have improved a lot.
This is a good thing.
I've had quite a lot of gigs recently, most of which have gone well.
I did a full weekend for the first time in Glasgow last week ; the Thursday and Friday were great, but the Saturday night was a bit of a struggle.
Overall though, quite chipper about the old comedy thing.
I think I started getting better after I got a couple of duff reviews on this
comedy web site.
I remember at the time that my nose was fairly out of joint about the reviews; mainly because, by any objective analysis, I'd gone down really well (which was alluded to in the review).
Anyway,with hindsight, it was probably the best thing that's happened to my act, as it made me take a long, hard look at what I was doing, and led me to play around with the format a bit.
I'm not saying I'm amazing and wonderful though...just got a bit better, ok?
I was having a funny conversation yesterday with a work colleague regarding our experience with "tight gits" in our respective social circles.
I do know people who will always, always, always be last to get a round in any pub situation, and who are delighted if, due to licensing time restrictions, they are unable to get their full quota of rounds in at the bar.
I was trumped though by an outstanding tale of tightness.
My colleague was contacted by telephone by a friend and asked if he would mind looking after a bag of frozen peas of his by storing it in his freezer.
Why?
So that he could switch off his freezer and save the electricity, as he was going away on holiday for a week.
Now you could argue that he was being green.
But I'd say that was merely a by-product of the principal motive, which was undoubtedly tightness of the highest order.
That was a very funny tale.
Last year I wrote this about the death of a couple of friends of mine ; Harry Horse and his wife Mandy.
I was shocked to read some grim details emerge of the actual circumstances of their deaths in the media.
Later that day I had a gig on, and it felt very strange to witness one of the comedians go into a routine about Harry Horse and the circumstances of his death.
I didn't enjoy hearing a comedy routine about something so personal, but I did rationalise that I can't have it both ways.
If you're going to have the odd dark piece of material in your set, you have to take it on the chin when you hear material on a subject that you are a bit sensitive about.
It was a pretty good joke though, I observed objectively.

09/07/08 Crazy Horses

2008-07-09T18:00:00.001+01:00

I was a bit apprehensive about last Thursday at The Stand as a deputation from my work were attending.
Luckily the gig went really well, so I avoided the awfulness of people at work on the following day sympathetically telling me "How brave" I was.
Don't ever say that to a comedian.
It is taken as a euphemism for "You are shite, but you deserve slight credit for your misguided pluck"
I had actually brought a gun with me in case anyone tried this, but thankfully it remained in my desk for the duration, and I forfeited my opportunity to be the main story on "Scotland Today".
I'd say the work crew were split 50/50 between those that liked it and those that didn't, (I'm taking a "no comment" as a negative).
That's quite respectable I think.
The main talking point of the evening though was the mass walkout of a group of 20 American Mormons during Keir McAllister's opening set.
The fact that they were occupying the front 2 rows made things even more dramatic.
I think it was the C word which most upset them, as well as Keir's description of Mormonism as being a "crazy, fucked-up religion".
Now this was all undoubtedly hilarious, and I laughed as much as anyone, but I can't help feeling just a little sorry for them as they seemed like a cheery bunch initially.
A bit naive to sit right at the front though...and I can only assume that they weren't familiar with the rough and tumble of a comedy club, and the range of subject matters likely to arise.
I'll never know what they would have thought of my set, but there you go.
Talking of the C word, Alan Bennet's brilliant book "Untold Stories" has had me cackling with laughter this week.
In one passage he refers to the film "The Madness of King George III", in connection with the death of the Earl of Pembroke.
He'd written to Bennett about the character in the film, Lady Pembroke.
She was "a lady of mature years to whom in his derangement George III takes a fancy".
Apparently the King became incensed at how Lady Pembroke was treated by her husband, and questioned him about it.
He replied: "Sire, if you had a wife whose cunt was as cold as a greyhound's nostril, you would have done the same."
Very funny, and it's difficult to think of any other word which would work as well in that line.
Had a fairly crap gig last night in Glasgow.
The compere didn't have a great night, and the whole evening was incredibly low-energy.
It was strange...the venue was sold out yet it felt really quiet.
Not that I'm making excuses or anything.
Disappointingly, a good few of my highly-respected Scottish comic peers were in attendance to witness my lacklustre performance.
Cunts.
Come to one of my good nights, why don't you?
This week I was also startled to see an ex-girlfriend's brother conducting the the "Brighton Gay Male Choir" on the "Richard and Judy show".
Good stuff...
And now I feel morally obliged to watch the "Last Choir Standing" series on BBC1 (they are in it).

04/07/08 Viva Espana!

2008-07-05T16:09:00.000+01:00

"It's magic if you come from Madrid, it's beautiful if you come from Barcelona, it's a vindication if you come from Valencia or Villarreal and it's lovely if you come from Liverpool."
Well, that was John Motson’s prepared line which he made in the event of Spain winning Euro 2008.
Not quite “They think it’s all over… It is now!” is it?
I don’t think it will still be quoted wistfully in 40 years time.
In fact most people will have forgotten about it by this time next week.
The “lovely Liverpool” line will probably be remembered ; but not in a good way.
In response I’d say “It’s shite if you come from Sidcup, it’s bollocks if you come from Bolton and it’s fucked if you come from Farnborough.
There you go…that’s just as clever as his one, and I’m not even a professional commentator.
Other than that, his ridiculous, theatrical pronounciation of “Schwein-steiger!” did have me giggling, as well as the Barry White style delivery of the German coach’s name “Loew” which he pronounced “L-o-v-e”…
As finals go, last night’s match was pretty good.
A lot of quality football on show, with both sides prepared to have a go at each other.
It’s a shame it was disfigured as a spectacle by the woeful commentary of Messrs Motson & Lawrenson.
Motty should have gone a while ago.
He has clearly lost a lot of sharpness, and seems permanently confused.
His reactions seem about a half a second behind everyone elses’..
Lawrenson’s style owes much to Stuart Hall’s “penguin” commentary on “It’s A Knockout”, and does nothing to enhance viewers’ understanding of the game.
His continual scoffing at “The Germans”, as he disdainfully referred to them throughout the match, was tedious and cringeworthy.
I never want to hear his whining voice again.
The two Alans, Messrs Hansen and Shearer were equally annoying.
“I couldn’t believe that Aragones took off Torres!” piped up Hansen.
This has been a constant tactic of the Spanish coach Aragones throughout the tournament, ie play Torres for the first 70 minutes to give the opposing defence the runaround, as he hangs on the defenders shoulders, constantly making runs ; then put on Villa in place of him, he being more of a penalty-box finisher who will likely thrive against a tiring defence.
It’s lazy, lazy punditry and I’d love to see how much these buffoons cream off the BBC for their efforts.
The only pundits who emerged with any credit were Martin O’Neill and Gordon Strachan.
Ray Stubbs’ and Marcel Desailly’s regular “Abbott & Costello” tribute act was vaguely entertaining, but offered nothing in the way of insight into anything in particular.

29/06/08 Bumble Bee Sighting Shock

2008-06-29T12:29:00.000+01:00

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.

21/06/08 Quiet Night Out

2008-06-21T13:28:00.001+01:00

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.