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.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Yorkshire Tour
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
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
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Hello! Hello! We are the silly boys!
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.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Relatively armless
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.
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.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Not that I'm one to complain, but...
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
The Write Stuff
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Thatch's dotage
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
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
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Got My Mojo Back
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?
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?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Strum Enchanted Evening?
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
CSb RIP
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!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Pow!
“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”.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
well hello there China!
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.
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.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Punctured bicycle on a hilltop desolate
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?
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?
Friday, January 30, 2009
You must be choking! (genius)
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.
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.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Jim stops smoking again shock!
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...
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...
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Hmmmm....Nice...!!!
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.
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.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Happy New Year!
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
They've found Tom!
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!
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!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Merry Christmas!
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?
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?
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Cor Blimey!
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 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.
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