"Brothers and sisters have I none,
But that man's father is my father's son"
Attempting to work out precisely who the narrator of this verse was referring to
used to cause my brain to short circuit as a child.
Of course as an intelligent adult, I can now see that the solution is patently obvious and that the narrator is referring to his second cousin,( twice removed), on the maternal side of his family. Simple.
This conundrum occasionally appeared as a Park family "keep the children entertained" travelling game.
We used to make a weekly visit from South Queensferry to Glasgow to see my mum's parents. This trip generally took about an hour. To 4 small children this represents an extremely long and boring journey.
The most popular in-drive games option was usuaully a "General Knowledge" quiz, where we would all compete against each other.
Questions were tailored by my parents to suit the relative ages of the children. This was a good idea in principal, however the game often ended in raging controversy, as play was suspended due to a barrage of complaints, (usually from my brother or me), about the ridiculously easy questions given to my younger sisters.
On one occasion, I was tied in a cliffhanger of a game with my youngest sister Janie. We had one question each left. The atmosphere in the car was electric.
I was given a tough geographical question which I had to pass on, leaving me devastated.
Janie (aged approximately 5) was then asked what noise a duck makes. I was outraged, and, to rub salt in the wound, was then disqualified for my unabated, vociferous complaints. It still upsets me to this day.
I was denied victory in the cruellest of circumstances. The confidence that victory would have given me could have led me to win "Mastermind" or even appear on "University Challenge", but I was left broken, bitter and defeated with a smouldering sense of injustice.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
05/09/2005 Deflated
My bike has been sitting in the car park at work with a puncture for the past 4 days. I can't make up my mind whether to attempt to fix the puncture or just buy a new bike. It's that tricky "back wheel puncture". Obviously, if it was a front wheel puncture there wouldn't be such a dilemna, and even someone with my limited practical skillbase could easily fix it.
I've been taking the bus. I ask for an 80p fare then put a £1 coin in the slot, making my customary 20p donation to the Edinburgh Bus Drivers' Xmas Drinks Fund. This is crazy as I have about 50 tons of loose change lying around in my flat. I have probably enough cash in loose change to buy a "round the world" flight, or even buy my own bus that I could drive myself to work free of charge, and maybe go on a holiday like Cliff Richard did and try to get off with Una Stubbs.
I'm mulling over when to get back in the stand-up saddle again. I think I might re-group, work on some new stuff and go for an October re-launch.
If someone asks me to do gigs, I'll do them but I won't go hunting them down...
I must drink less in September than I did in August. This won't be a hard objective to realise. A bit like Adolf Hitler making a New Year resolution to be "a little nicer" in future.
I watched "The Man Who Predicted 9/11" documentary. Very disappointing. I thought it was going to be about someone who had a weird, mystical vision of everything that was going to happen. Instead, it was just the story of a guy who was responsible for security in one of the towers who was very twitchy about the continuing threat to the buildings.
It wasn't exactly Nostre Damus stuff, as the towers had already been bombed in 1993 by someone taking a van into the underground car park, obviously with the intention of bringing the tower down.
What the programme was really about was using this bloke's story as an excuse to rerun all the 9/11 footage of planes crashing into buildings, people jumping from the buildings, the buildings collapsing, the panic on the ground etc etc
There's been an unwritten agreement in the past 4 years to not show these images any more on TV. At the time of the event, they were repeated over and over again hundreds of times. It became almost pornographic. I think most people felt after a while that they really didn't want to see these images any more, and the TV Networks duly obliged.
Last night was the first time I'd seen the images getting multiple showings again. I thought it was a fairly shoddy and sensationalist documentary, not worthy of Channel 4. But I still watched it. It's still all horribly mesmerising, and it reminded me of how I sat for hours gawping at the TV on the actual day, thinking that this was the end of the world.
On a more serious note, I've now decided to have a go at mending the puncture. I laugh in the face of adversity.
I've been taking the bus. I ask for an 80p fare then put a £1 coin in the slot, making my customary 20p donation to the Edinburgh Bus Drivers' Xmas Drinks Fund. This is crazy as I have about 50 tons of loose change lying around in my flat. I have probably enough cash in loose change to buy a "round the world" flight, or even buy my own bus that I could drive myself to work free of charge, and maybe go on a holiday like Cliff Richard did and try to get off with Una Stubbs.
I'm mulling over when to get back in the stand-up saddle again. I think I might re-group, work on some new stuff and go for an October re-launch.
If someone asks me to do gigs, I'll do them but I won't go hunting them down...
I must drink less in September than I did in August. This won't be a hard objective to realise. A bit like Adolf Hitler making a New Year resolution to be "a little nicer" in future.
I watched "The Man Who Predicted 9/11" documentary. Very disappointing. I thought it was going to be about someone who had a weird, mystical vision of everything that was going to happen. Instead, it was just the story of a guy who was responsible for security in one of the towers who was very twitchy about the continuing threat to the buildings.
It wasn't exactly Nostre Damus stuff, as the towers had already been bombed in 1993 by someone taking a van into the underground car park, obviously with the intention of bringing the tower down.
What the programme was really about was using this bloke's story as an excuse to rerun all the 9/11 footage of planes crashing into buildings, people jumping from the buildings, the buildings collapsing, the panic on the ground etc etc
There's been an unwritten agreement in the past 4 years to not show these images any more on TV. At the time of the event, they were repeated over and over again hundreds of times. It became almost pornographic. I think most people felt after a while that they really didn't want to see these images any more, and the TV Networks duly obliged.
Last night was the first time I'd seen the images getting multiple showings again. I thought it was a fairly shoddy and sensationalist documentary, not worthy of Channel 4. But I still watched it. It's still all horribly mesmerising, and it reminded me of how I sat for hours gawping at the TV on the actual day, thinking that this was the end of the world.
On a more serious note, I've now decided to have a go at mending the puncture. I laugh in the face of adversity.
Monday, September 05, 2005
04/09/05 A Full Working Day
We played at the Mela down Pilrig Park. It was another glorious sunny day. Unfortunately one of the 2 Indian dancers was ill and couldn't make the show, which was a pity.
Nevertheless, Nikita put in a sterling performance on her own. She's 13 going on 25, and seemed completly unfazed about performing on her own in front of thousands of people.
We had some technical difficulties with the sound, and were overall a bit wobbly. However the crowd seemed to enjoy it. I've definitely played better though!
I arrived home and was slightly alarmed to find my brother Gavin wandering about the back garden in his pants. I don't have a problem in people wearing pants in their gardens per se. However, he was visible to just about all the residents of Coates Gardens. And also, being my brother, there is undeniably something of a physical similarity between the two of us.
My worry is that Gavin could have been mistaken for me, and I now have a reputation amongst my neighbours as the weird eccentric Jim Park who routinely parades in his pants in his back garden oblivious to the consternation this flagrant display is provoking in the neighbourhood.
I'd rather be known as Jim Park the successful, hilarious stand-up comedian and local genius.
Perhaps I should place notices on lamposts in the street confirming that I was not the offending pants person. I could photocopy a few at work tomorrow, perhaps.
At night Debbie was having a posh do in which we had to dress smart, so it was on with the old suit. Another opportunity to imbibe copious quantities of Champagne was seized upon.
We then took a carpet roll down to Bruntsfield Links and watched the Fireworks. I was later subjected to another viewing of the "Scotland Today" Harvey Nichols fiasco. I still find it very difficult to watch...
It was a very enjoyable, funny soiree though, and didn't everyone look luvverly in all their finery...
Nevertheless, Nikita put in a sterling performance on her own. She's 13 going on 25, and seemed completly unfazed about performing on her own in front of thousands of people.
We had some technical difficulties with the sound, and were overall a bit wobbly. However the crowd seemed to enjoy it. I've definitely played better though!
I arrived home and was slightly alarmed to find my brother Gavin wandering about the back garden in his pants. I don't have a problem in people wearing pants in their gardens per se. However, he was visible to just about all the residents of Coates Gardens. And also, being my brother, there is undeniably something of a physical similarity between the two of us.
My worry is that Gavin could have been mistaken for me, and I now have a reputation amongst my neighbours as the weird eccentric Jim Park who routinely parades in his pants in his back garden oblivious to the consternation this flagrant display is provoking in the neighbourhood.
I'd rather be known as Jim Park the successful, hilarious stand-up comedian and local genius.
Perhaps I should place notices on lamposts in the street confirming that I was not the offending pants person. I could photocopy a few at work tomorrow, perhaps.
At night Debbie was having a posh do in which we had to dress smart, so it was on with the old suit. Another opportunity to imbibe copious quantities of Champagne was seized upon.
We then took a carpet roll down to Bruntsfield Links and watched the Fireworks. I was later subjected to another viewing of the "Scotland Today" Harvey Nichols fiasco. I still find it very difficult to watch...
It was a very enjoyable, funny soiree though, and didn't everyone look luvverly in all their finery...
03/09/05 Oh ma heid!
Not one of my most active days.
Lazed around then went out with a crowd at night to a Moroccan restaurant on Dundas St.
I don't think it was the right option. The music was deafeningly loud, and there was a bit of bellydancing going on, with a "veiled" (geddit?) threat of coercing people up to have a go at it.
I think everyone would have preferred a nice quiet mellow restaurant.
Anyway, we managed to avoid making twats of ourselves, thankfully.
The food was pretty average and overpriced for what was very basic fare.
We had a bit of banter with a very pissed hen party outside the restaurant as we were leaving. Very funny.
Lazed around then went out with a crowd at night to a Moroccan restaurant on Dundas St.
I don't think it was the right option. The music was deafeningly loud, and there was a bit of bellydancing going on, with a "veiled" (geddit?) threat of coercing people up to have a go at it.
I think everyone would have preferred a nice quiet mellow restaurant.
Anyway, we managed to avoid making twats of ourselves, thankfully.
The food was pretty average and overpriced for what was very basic fare.
We had a bit of banter with a very pissed hen party outside the restaurant as we were leaving. Very funny.
02/09/05 Ding Dong!
It's the day of my sister Janie's wedding to Max. It's a glorious
sunny day.
I'm on ushering duty and manage to cope well with the tricky tasks of issuing hymn sheets and directing the punters to the Bride or Groom side of the Church.
Max and his best man Miguel are piped in, ie they are led in by a
bagpiper, not fed in through the church plumbing.
My Dad then leads Janie up the aisle. Janie is looking radiantly
beautiful in a stunning green velvet dress.
Father Mike leads a jolly, informal service and has the assembled
masses chuckling along merrily.
The vows are taken and the rings are installed on fingers.
Outside, adhering to Italian tradition, large sugar almond sweets are thrown at the happy couple, as well as confetti. There's definitely a potential for injury here, but fortunately both are unscathed by the missiles hurled at them.
There are also a few handfuls of coins scattered for the local kids to
chase. I resist the urge to compete for the cash.
I could justify it as an understandable reaction, bearing in mind my upcoming roof repair bill. Did I mention that already? Yes I probably did.
It's then back on a chartered bus to Orocco Pier in South Queensferry.
The speeches came before the meal. A good idea in my book. It lets everyone enjoy the meal leisurely rather than shitting themselves thinking about their upcoming speech.
It was a great ,happy occasion, but there was an underlying sadness that my mum wasn't there to see it. She'd have been singing a solo in the Church, and lapping up everything about the day.
At one point, Max hesitated and choked slightly in his speech, and I knew instinctively that he was going to pay tribute to the mums, (His mum also suffered an untimely death.)
He just mentioned that "everyone thinks their mum is special" but that he had no doubt that his mum and Buddy were genuinely special people and that it was to his and everyone's great regret that they weren't there today to be part of the occasion.
That was it for me, I buckled and shed a few tears. Time really isn't a great healer. You get used to dealing with things, but when your emotions get stretched, it still all seems very raw.
He got back on a humorous track though as he wound things up.
All the speeches from Max, my Dad and Miguel were great though. A really nice balance of humour and moving sentiments.
The meal was a bit of a marathon, but extremely delicious. 8 separate courses and a continuous topping up of the ole wine glasses.
A lot of prancing around to ceilidh music followed, as well as smoking an expensive cigar. Although not inhaling. Obviously.
Back into town on the hired bus, and adhering once again to the motto "if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing", we decide to have a last drink in the Argus Hotel on Coates Gardens, often referred to as a "Royston Vasey Theme Bar".
All in all, a top day...!
sunny day.
I'm on ushering duty and manage to cope well with the tricky tasks of issuing hymn sheets and directing the punters to the Bride or Groom side of the Church.
Max and his best man Miguel are piped in, ie they are led in by a
bagpiper, not fed in through the church plumbing.
My Dad then leads Janie up the aisle. Janie is looking radiantly
beautiful in a stunning green velvet dress.
Father Mike leads a jolly, informal service and has the assembled
masses chuckling along merrily.
The vows are taken and the rings are installed on fingers.
Outside, adhering to Italian tradition, large sugar almond sweets are thrown at the happy couple, as well as confetti. There's definitely a potential for injury here, but fortunately both are unscathed by the missiles hurled at them.
There are also a few handfuls of coins scattered for the local kids to
chase. I resist the urge to compete for the cash.
I could justify it as an understandable reaction, bearing in mind my upcoming roof repair bill. Did I mention that already? Yes I probably did.
It's then back on a chartered bus to Orocco Pier in South Queensferry.
The speeches came before the meal. A good idea in my book. It lets everyone enjoy the meal leisurely rather than shitting themselves thinking about their upcoming speech.
It was a great ,happy occasion, but there was an underlying sadness that my mum wasn't there to see it. She'd have been singing a solo in the Church, and lapping up everything about the day.
At one point, Max hesitated and choked slightly in his speech, and I knew instinctively that he was going to pay tribute to the mums, (His mum also suffered an untimely death.)
He just mentioned that "everyone thinks their mum is special" but that he had no doubt that his mum and Buddy were genuinely special people and that it was to his and everyone's great regret that they weren't there today to be part of the occasion.
That was it for me, I buckled and shed a few tears. Time really isn't a great healer. You get used to dealing with things, but when your emotions get stretched, it still all seems very raw.
He got back on a humorous track though as he wound things up.
All the speeches from Max, my Dad and Miguel were great though. A really nice balance of humour and moving sentiments.
The meal was a bit of a marathon, but extremely delicious. 8 separate courses and a continuous topping up of the ole wine glasses.
A lot of prancing around to ceilidh music followed, as well as smoking an expensive cigar. Although not inhaling. Obviously.
Back into town on the hired bus, and adhering once again to the motto "if it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing", we decide to have a last drink in the Argus Hotel on Coates Gardens, often referred to as a "Royston Vasey Theme Bar".
All in all, a top day...!
01/09/05 Mela
Spent the evening rehearsing with some samba people and Indian
dancers for a Samba/Indian fusion
performance at The Mela on Sunday.
The church hall acoustics are chronic. It feels like we're playing in a subway.
I still feel knackered all the time.
I'm not looking for sympathy though, in case that's the impression I'm giving! :-)
My illustrious brother Gavin is up staying with me, as he's in town for the upcoming Park wedding involving my youngest sister Janie.
dancers for a Samba/Indian fusion
performance at The Mela on Sunday.
The church hall acoustics are chronic. It feels like we're playing in a subway.
I still feel knackered all the time.
I'm not looking for sympathy though, in case that's the impression I'm giving! :-)
My illustrious brother Gavin is up staying with me, as he's in town for the upcoming Park wedding involving my youngest sister Janie.
31/08/05 End of the Month!
It's the end of August. Before you know it , it'll be the
beginning of September.
Who would have predicted that? It's a topsy turvy world we live in, that's for sure.
I noticed that the rhubarb is ready for harvest. It's all go...!
This Blog is deteriorating badly isn't it?
beginning of September.
Who would have predicted that? It's a topsy turvy world we live in, that's for sure.
I noticed that the rhubarb is ready for harvest. It's all go...!
This Blog is deteriorating badly isn't it?
30/08/05 You Couldn't Make It Up!
Had a lovely day at work. I also met Jeff Stewart in the street
as I cycled to work.
It doesn't get much better than that...
as I cycled to work.
It doesn't get much better than that...
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
29/08/05 Below Par
From being fairly competent at golf earlier on this year, my game has completely collapsed. Thankfully I am not in danger of winning the sheepskin jacket awarded to the player with the worst score. I had moments where I was seriously concerned though.
28/08/05 Lost Weekend
I have headed off to Auchterarder for our annual golfing weekend jaunt with the Stirling University old boys. The usual mix of talking bollocks, drinking and bad golf.
27/08/05 Ashes To Ashes
Funk to Funky
We think you're a
Cheeky Monkey
Looks like my Ashes bet is a goner. My winning streak comes to an end. £100 goes down the ole swannee. Still, never mind, my Graeme Souness “getting sacked before the end of the season” bet is looking fairly assured.
I’m still having my Russian Doll/Printing Initiatives nightmares. Every time I escape from one Russian doll, I find myself trapped in a slightly bigger one.
“Russian Dolls” could actually be the name of a Internet Marriage Agency based in Glasgow specialising in Eastern European females looking to marry west of Scotland males, (the men are probably very attractive based on the notion that they won’t live very long, and the bride-to-be will inherit their estate at a relatively early age)
We think you're a
Cheeky Monkey
Looks like my Ashes bet is a goner. My winning streak comes to an end. £100 goes down the ole swannee. Still, never mind, my Graeme Souness “getting sacked before the end of the season” bet is looking fairly assured.
I’m still having my Russian Doll/Printing Initiatives nightmares. Every time I escape from one Russian doll, I find myself trapped in a slightly bigger one.
“Russian Dolls” could actually be the name of a Internet Marriage Agency based in Glasgow specialising in Eastern European females looking to marry west of Scotland males, (the men are probably very attractive based on the notion that they won’t live very long, and the bride-to-be will inherit their estate at a relatively early age)
26/08/05 No Escape
I’ve been having a terrible recurring nightmare in which I’m trapped sleeping inside a set of Russian dolls having a nightmare about being asleep having a nightmare in which I’m tied to a chair in a meeting room and am being forced to watch the powerpoint presentation on “Printing Initiatives” over and over again, with my eyelids pinned back like what was done to Malcolm McDowell in “A Clockwork Orange”.
25/08/05 Dream On
I’ve been having a terrible recurring nightmare in which I’m asleep having a nightmare in which I’m tied to a chair in a meeting room and am being forced to watch the powerpoint presentation on “Printing Initiatives” over and over again, with my eyelids pinned back like what was done to Malcolm McDowell in “A Clockwork Orange”.
24/08/05 It's A Nightmare
I’ve been having a terrible recurring nightmare in which I’ve been tied to a chair in a meeting room and been forced to watch the powerpoint presentation on “Printing Initiatives” over and over again, with my eyelids pinned back like what was done to Malcolm McDowell in “A Clockwork Orange”.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
23/08/05 Park's Circus Last Rites
Today we had a Powerpoint Presentation at work entitled "Printing Initiatives".
This presentation took the concept of dullness into undreamt of realms.
In a way, I was impressed, and thought that it could make an interesting Fringe play for next years' festival.
At night the "Park's Circus" crew assembled at David Bann's restaurant for a celebratory nosh up. Myself, Patrick, Tony and Jools being in attendance on this auspicious occasion,
(Matthew the techy couldn't make it)
The food was well received and the wine flowed freely.
We then went to see Jason Byrne at the Assembly Rooms. We all found him to be a big disappointment. I sat stony faced for the duration of the show. I assume he just had an off night and couldn't really get any good riffs going off the audience. It was a pity, because I was really in the mood for a right old laugh.
Unfortunately, it was all very pedestrian. I think we were all anticipating being blown away by him, but it just didn't happen.
Had a late pint at Holyrood Tavern.
This presentation took the concept of dullness into undreamt of realms.
In a way, I was impressed, and thought that it could make an interesting Fringe play for next years' festival.
At night the "Park's Circus" crew assembled at David Bann's restaurant for a celebratory nosh up. Myself, Patrick, Tony and Jools being in attendance on this auspicious occasion,
(Matthew the techy couldn't make it)
The food was well received and the wine flowed freely.
We then went to see Jason Byrne at the Assembly Rooms. We all found him to be a big disappointment. I sat stony faced for the duration of the show. I assume he just had an off night and couldn't really get any good riffs going off the audience. It was a pity, because I was really in the mood for a right old laugh.
Unfortunately, it was all very pedestrian. I think we were all anticipating being blown away by him, but it just didn't happen.
Had a late pint at Holyrood Tavern.
22/08/05 Flatlining
No electrical activity of any kind was reported in Jim Park's brain on this day, so there can be no meaningful Blog entry.
He was back at work though , and apparently was described as giving an amazingly convincing impression of someone in a persistent vegetative state.
("nothing new there then..!" Ed "Ho Ho")
He was back at work though , and apparently was described as giving an amazingly convincing impression of someone in a persistent vegetative state.
("nothing new there then..!" Ed "Ho Ho")
Monday, August 22, 2005
21/08/05 The Final Curtain
And so "Park's Circus" is no more. The last night was a bit subdued. A reasonable crowd in, but a Sunday night, hangover feel to the evening.
I was anticipating a bigger crowd as there were a lot of people who I'd thought would make it to the show at some stage, but hadn't shown up yet. But they didn't appear. Never mind. I'd rather people just came because they really wanted to, rather than out of any feeling of obligation towards me.
We had a brilliant front row last night of young orchestra musicians who were convulsed with laughter for the whole show. I'd pay good money for people like that to come to every show!
The past 17 shows have certainly been a learning experience.
The delivery has got better. I realise that it would have been a good idea to have at least one day off during the run. We're unlikely to use Roman Eagle Lodge again.
It was too murderously hot, and the venue staff have been fairly rubbish to put it charitably.
We were unlucky with the timing of reviews as the show in the latter stages of the run was immeasurably superior to the first few performances.
But it's been a great experience and I've had a hoot and a half. I'm definitely up for doing another show next year.
Back at work now. Knackered.
I was anticipating a bigger crowd as there were a lot of people who I'd thought would make it to the show at some stage, but hadn't shown up yet. But they didn't appear. Never mind. I'd rather people just came because they really wanted to, rather than out of any feeling of obligation towards me.
We had a brilliant front row last night of young orchestra musicians who were convulsed with laughter for the whole show. I'd pay good money for people like that to come to every show!
The past 17 shows have certainly been a learning experience.
The delivery has got better. I realise that it would have been a good idea to have at least one day off during the run. We're unlikely to use Roman Eagle Lodge again.
It was too murderously hot, and the venue staff have been fairly rubbish to put it charitably.
We were unlucky with the timing of reviews as the show in the latter stages of the run was immeasurably superior to the first few performances.
But it's been a great experience and I've had a hoot and a half. I'm definitely up for doing another show next year.
Back at work now. Knackered.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
20/08/05 Finishing Strongly
Another really good night. A big appreciative crowd and the show has developed a much better momentum. Having Jools as MC has transformed the show completely. She's great at getting the audience relaxed and then geeing them up.
Instead of running on and offstage doing links etc, the 3 of us can just concentrate on our stand-up routines, and it's making for a much better show.
It'd be nice to get a review of the re-vamped show.
Anyway, we are all in a cheery mood after the show going so well, and proceeded to down several pints, as is our wont of an evening.
We ended up down at the "Pear Shaped" comedy club in the Holyrood Tavern again.
We wanted to see fellow comic Richard pulsford do a spot but just missed him.
Late in the evening, I was horrified when the funster MC Brian Damage announced, "And next up is Jim Park!".
I was there strictly to watch comedy and had already imbibed about 7 pints. I proceeded to do a shambling, slurred impersonation of my material in a chaotic 5 minutes that I can vaguely remember.
I still got pretty good laughs...but I suspect they were largely out of sympathy for my plight.
I think Brian did mention at the end that he "didn't realise quite how pissed Jim was " before he invited me on stage.
It was a very nice gesture to be asked spontaneously to do a spot. I just wish I had been a little more sober.
It was a good learning experience though. I generally don't drink at all before I perform, and this fiasco was a reminder of why my policy is correct.
I suppose you could look at it as a kind of Fringe Comedian "rite of passage" to do a spot of pissed stand-up.
I'm going to try and get another spot next week and will definitely be on the soda & limes before I go on.
Instead of running on and offstage doing links etc, the 3 of us can just concentrate on our stand-up routines, and it's making for a much better show.
It'd be nice to get a review of the re-vamped show.
Anyway, we are all in a cheery mood after the show going so well, and proceeded to down several pints, as is our wont of an evening.
We ended up down at the "Pear Shaped" comedy club in the Holyrood Tavern again.
We wanted to see fellow comic Richard pulsford do a spot but just missed him.
Late in the evening, I was horrified when the funster MC Brian Damage announced, "And next up is Jim Park!".
I was there strictly to watch comedy and had already imbibed about 7 pints. I proceeded to do a shambling, slurred impersonation of my material in a chaotic 5 minutes that I can vaguely remember.
I still got pretty good laughs...but I suspect they were largely out of sympathy for my plight.
I think Brian did mention at the end that he "didn't realise quite how pissed Jim was " before he invited me on stage.
It was a very nice gesture to be asked spontaneously to do a spot. I just wish I had been a little more sober.
It was a good learning experience though. I generally don't drink at all before I perform, and this fiasco was a reminder of why my policy is correct.
I suppose you could look at it as a kind of Fringe Comedian "rite of passage" to do a spot of pissed stand-up.
I'm going to try and get another spot next week and will definitely be on the soda & limes before I go on.
Friday, August 19, 2005
19/08/05 Back of the net!!
The best night of the run. Good lively, big crowd. Jools' compering works a treat. A couple of top guest acts. Everyone else on form. Get in there!
Hopefully we can keep up this energy and performance level till Sunday night. Yee ha!
Having to go to work the next day I decided to have a quick beer at the "Castle Arms" before heading off to my scratcher.
Inexplicably, I found myself in "The Holyrood Tavern" at 3am nursing a pint of Tennent's Lager.
How did that happen?
Not my most productive day at work today really.
But hey kids! It's the weekend....!
Hopefully we can keep up this energy and performance level till Sunday night. Yee ha!
Having to go to work the next day I decided to have a quick beer at the "Castle Arms" before heading off to my scratcher.
Inexplicably, I found myself in "The Holyrood Tavern" at 3am nursing a pint of Tennent's Lager.
How did that happen?
Not my most productive day at work today really.
But hey kids! It's the weekend....!
Thursday, August 18, 2005
18/08/05 Back To Reality
Another tough night. We had about 20 in and they were hard work. I did my best to raise the energy levels, but it was a bit of a losing battle.
I'm shattered. I need to spend about 3 days in a darkened room listening to ambient music.
We had a good laugh in our post-show HQ "The Castle Arms" though.
Rebecca, our guest act for the night, was there with her friend Jeanette. It turned out that Jeanette's mum, Maureen, had given her a letter to give to Rebecca.
This contained a number of handwritten jokes that Maureen thought Rebecca "might be able to use in her act".
They were mostly inoffensive hoary old clunkers, but one joke did stand out from the rest.
It began something like "Why do women get thrush?"
"Because it gives them experience of dealing with an irritating cunt before they get married"
This brought the roof down in the pub as we speculated on Maureen the respectable 63 year old housewife in Sale, Manchester coming up with material like that!
I think Rebecca should introduce these jokes explaining the circumstances of the source of the material. It would certainly make me howl with laughter.
I am now back at work. No-one has yet commented on my show. I find this quietly hilarious. Come on....do your worst...I can take it!
4 shows left. I can see the finishing line approaching. I hope we get good comedy crowds for the weekend and finish with a flourish.
My Ashes Australia bet was looking a bit ropey this week. However the Aussies got a battling draw and it's 1-1 with 2 matches to go.
It is a lot closer than I anticipated though and could go either way.
I made £95 last night as a result of Scotland not winning in Austria and England not winning in Denmark.
I have to pay tribute to Rab "Butterfingers" Douglas in goal for Scotland. Without his timely intervention in gifting Austra an equaliser, I'd have been £200 down overall.
I'm shattered. I need to spend about 3 days in a darkened room listening to ambient music.
We had a good laugh in our post-show HQ "The Castle Arms" though.
Rebecca, our guest act for the night, was there with her friend Jeanette. It turned out that Jeanette's mum, Maureen, had given her a letter to give to Rebecca.
This contained a number of handwritten jokes that Maureen thought Rebecca "might be able to use in her act".
They were mostly inoffensive hoary old clunkers, but one joke did stand out from the rest.
It began something like "Why do women get thrush?"
"Because it gives them experience of dealing with an irritating cunt before they get married"
This brought the roof down in the pub as we speculated on Maureen the respectable 63 year old housewife in Sale, Manchester coming up with material like that!
I think Rebecca should introduce these jokes explaining the circumstances of the source of the material. It would certainly make me howl with laughter.
I am now back at work. No-one has yet commented on my show. I find this quietly hilarious. Come on....do your worst...I can take it!
4 shows left. I can see the finishing line approaching. I hope we get good comedy crowds for the weekend and finish with a flourish.
My Ashes Australia bet was looking a bit ropey this week. However the Aussies got a battling draw and it's 1-1 with 2 matches to go.
It is a lot closer than I anticipated though and could go either way.
I made £95 last night as a result of Scotland not winning in Austria and England not winning in Denmark.
I have to pay tribute to Rab "Butterfingers" Douglas in goal for Scotland. Without his timely intervention in gifting Austra an equaliser, I'd have been £200 down overall.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
17/08/05 Good Stuff!
We virtually sold out last night. That's great for a Tuesday night. I knew quite a few folk in the audience, but even allowing for that there must be a fairly good "word of mouth" going round about the show to justify that level of audience.
Our glorious sound technician didn't arrive till 9.55pm (that's showtime), causing a little unnecessary anxiety, but the show went well, and the sound system was working again!
I had another gig at the "Pear Shaped Club" at the Holyrood Tavern later on. This is viewed as potentially a tough gig as the audience (made up of a sizeable contingent of pissed up comics), can get pretty mouthy.
I started off and got a fairly decent reaction.
However, a couple of minutes in, it all went completely off. The audience were in sustained hysterics for the remainder of my set. The air safety/campbells soup stuff went down a storm.
I've honestly never had such a big reaction to my material and I found it as baffling as I did highly enjoyable.
It was just a short 5 minute set I was doing. I loved it though, absolutely loved it. The biggest high of the Fringe so far for me!
I spoke to Jaelith a promoter from Shropshire after the gig. She really liked my stuff and offered to get me work in comedy festivals she organises down south.
All in all, a good night. Sat blethering and supping lager in the Holyrood Tavern till 3.45am.
I also have to give myself a little medal for having managed to not succumb to the perils of nicotine during the Fringe. It's been sorely tempting but I've managed to resist so far!
Our glorious sound technician didn't arrive till 9.55pm (that's showtime), causing a little unnecessary anxiety, but the show went well, and the sound system was working again!
I had another gig at the "Pear Shaped Club" at the Holyrood Tavern later on. This is viewed as potentially a tough gig as the audience (made up of a sizeable contingent of pissed up comics), can get pretty mouthy.
I started off and got a fairly decent reaction.
However, a couple of minutes in, it all went completely off. The audience were in sustained hysterics for the remainder of my set. The air safety/campbells soup stuff went down a storm.
I've honestly never had such a big reaction to my material and I found it as baffling as I did highly enjoyable.
It was just a short 5 minute set I was doing. I loved it though, absolutely loved it. The biggest high of the Fringe so far for me!
I spoke to Jaelith a promoter from Shropshire after the gig. She really liked my stuff and offered to get me work in comedy festivals she organises down south.
All in all, a good night. Sat blethering and supping lager in the Holyrood Tavern till 3.45am.
I also have to give myself a little medal for having managed to not succumb to the perils of nicotine during the Fringe. It's been sorely tempting but I've managed to resist so far!
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
16/08/05 Park's Circus Unplugged
Last night didn't look promising when our illustrious venue staff told us that the sound system was knackered. They thought that another production's radio mics were causing interference, but that as their show finished just before ours, they were 90% certain that the problem would then be resolved, (there was loud humming every time we tried to switch on the mic or play a CD).
Predictably, the problem wasn't resolved, so we were forced to do a performance without mics. The only other option was to cancel.
Ironically, we had probably our best gig of the run.
Everyone just came out all guns blazing, as we felt we had to make our acts bigger to compensate for the lack of amplification.
We had a really nice decent sized audience in and they lapped it all up.
I don't know whether we did or not, but that was a night that you'd really pray there was a reviewer in.
We had the adverse circumstances of the technical problems to deal with, but we overcame them and really stormed it. Spirit of the Fringe and all that kind of stuff.
Of course, knowing our luck with reviewers, it's unlikely there was one in last night.
Predictably, the problem wasn't resolved, so we were forced to do a performance without mics. The only other option was to cancel.
Ironically, we had probably our best gig of the run.
Everyone just came out all guns blazing, as we felt we had to make our acts bigger to compensate for the lack of amplification.
We had a really nice decent sized audience in and they lapped it all up.
I don't know whether we did or not, but that was a night that you'd really pray there was a reviewer in.
We had the adverse circumstances of the technical problems to deal with, but we overcame them and really stormed it. Spirit of the Fringe and all that kind of stuff.
Of course, knowing our luck with reviewers, it's unlikely there was one in last night.
Monday, August 15, 2005
15/08/05 Ho Hum
Oh well, we get a 2 star review in The Scotsman. It's a fairly lazy piece and doesn't really go into any specifics about the strengths and weaknesses of individual acts.
Whilst all the comedians are viewed as having "something to offer", we are criticised in that "their performances are not confident enough to sustain an enjoyable rapport with the audience".
It's probably fair comment for the Saturday show, as it was a pretty awkward night for all of us. Shame again, that we didn't get the reviewer on a better night, because I genuinely believe that we are worth 3 or 4 stars on the nights when we are truly kicking ass.
It's certainly true though that "inexperience" comes into play when you are dealing with a tricky audience. When everyone is laughing and it's all going well, it's a piece of piss. You're relaxed, the audience is relaxed...it's pure enjoyment.
The benefit of experience allows you to "read" the room, and adjust your act to suit that particular audience.
In the grand scheme of things though, I suppose 2 stars isn't too bad really.
A lot of comics I admire and respect at this year's Fringe have come a cropper with scathing 1 star reviews.
It's all about timing, timing, timing.
I'm not down about it though. I do genuinely believe in the show and think it's a quality piece of entertainment when everything is going well.
Even though Rudyard Kipling is, to quote Richard Herring, "a total fucking idiot", his advice about treating both triumph and disaster as imposters, is totally appropriate in this context.
There are a lot of deluded shit comics in this business who just keep plugging away blissfully unaware of the tumbleweed blowing across the stage during their acts.
I don't want to be like that. I don't think I am though.
Anyway, I'm in this for the long haul. The experience of doing the 10 shows up till now of "Park's Circus" has been a really steep learning curve for me.
I can't wait to try out my new longer set on the comedy circuit when the festival is finished.
On a more positive note I received news this morning that 3 parking tickets which I had appealed against have all been scrapped.
That's one in the eye for the evil army of commission-hungry traffic wardens who spread daily misery to the gentle residents of Coates Gardens!
Whilst all the comedians are viewed as having "something to offer", we are criticised in that "their performances are not confident enough to sustain an enjoyable rapport with the audience".
It's probably fair comment for the Saturday show, as it was a pretty awkward night for all of us. Shame again, that we didn't get the reviewer on a better night, because I genuinely believe that we are worth 3 or 4 stars on the nights when we are truly kicking ass.
It's certainly true though that "inexperience" comes into play when you are dealing with a tricky audience. When everyone is laughing and it's all going well, it's a piece of piss. You're relaxed, the audience is relaxed...it's pure enjoyment.
The benefit of experience allows you to "read" the room, and adjust your act to suit that particular audience.
In the grand scheme of things though, I suppose 2 stars isn't too bad really.
A lot of comics I admire and respect at this year's Fringe have come a cropper with scathing 1 star reviews.
It's all about timing, timing, timing.
I'm not down about it though. I do genuinely believe in the show and think it's a quality piece of entertainment when everything is going well.
Even though Rudyard Kipling is, to quote Richard Herring, "a total fucking idiot", his advice about treating both triumph and disaster as imposters, is totally appropriate in this context.
There are a lot of deluded shit comics in this business who just keep plugging away blissfully unaware of the tumbleweed blowing across the stage during their acts.
I don't want to be like that. I don't think I am though.
Anyway, I'm in this for the long haul. The experience of doing the 10 shows up till now of "Park's Circus" has been a really steep learning curve for me.
I can't wait to try out my new longer set on the comedy circuit when the festival is finished.
On a more positive note I received news this morning that 3 parking tickets which I had appealed against have all been scrapped.
That's one in the eye for the evil army of commission-hungry traffic wardens who spread daily misery to the gentle residents of Coates Gardens!
14/08/05 Sunday Sunday
A small but likeable crowd gathers for our Sunday night show. I really enjoyed it and felt very loose and relaxed.
Our guest act Rebecca almost made me fall off my stool in shock with some edgy London bombing material. It's fair to say she's become a little darker since I last saw her! Still consistently makes me giggle though.
She's in action tonight in the "So You Think You're Funny" semi-final. So, get in there, Rebecca!
We've re-vamped the format and now have the glamorous, burlesque charms of Jules linking the various acts together, rather than us swapping MC duties.
We all agree that it works a lot better....
Jules is a 5th dan Flyerer as well, and effortlessly gets the punters on the Royal Mile interested in the show.
The rest of us flyering now resembles a scene from "Dawn Of The Dead" as we assume zombie characters and lethargically explain to anyone willing to listen why our show is hilarious and unmissable...
Our guest act Rebecca almost made me fall off my stool in shock with some edgy London bombing material. It's fair to say she's become a little darker since I last saw her! Still consistently makes me giggle though.
She's in action tonight in the "So You Think You're Funny" semi-final. So, get in there, Rebecca!
We've re-vamped the format and now have the glamorous, burlesque charms of Jules linking the various acts together, rather than us swapping MC duties.
We all agree that it works a lot better....
Jules is a 5th dan Flyerer as well, and effortlessly gets the punters on the Royal Mile interested in the show.
The rest of us flyering now resembles a scene from "Dawn Of The Dead" as we assume zombie characters and lethargically explain to anyone willing to listen why our show is hilarious and unmissable...
Sunday, August 14, 2005
13/08/05 Tired and Emotional
The "Harvey Nichols" TV makeover was very funny. Iona, who works for Scottish Media Group put me forward as a suitably scruffy case in need of "transformation", and I was promised the opportunity to plug the show.
It was all done in a bit of a rush as the deadline was very tight. It was intended as a piece of light relief to counter-balance the coverage of Robin Cook's funeral.
Basically, I was shown before and after using a split-screen, with a normal scruffy Jim alongside a Gucci designer clothes wearing trendy Jim.
I was filmed coming down an escalator and had to run back up it to do a re-take.
I tripped near the top and only just avoided putting a hole in the knee of my £599 trousers. (and no, I DIDN'T get to keep the clothes! shocking!)
I was asked how I felt in my new cobber and replied ; "Well, I feel sophisticated, confident and elegant ; and I think I may wear this for my show "Park's Circus" at Roman Eagle Lodge, Venue 21 at 9.55pm", and then did a big Eric Morecambe style cheesy grin to camera.
I was then filmed leaving the shop with a dolly bird on each arm gazing lovingly into my eyes.
I watched the footage later on "Scotland Today" lying on the floor with my hands over my face. To say it was slightly cheesy is something of a huge understatement but it also was very, very funny. And thoughts raced through my head of all the people I've ever known who might have chanced upon this remarkable news story featuring me, whilst they were having their fish fingers and chips.
The show on Friday night was another fairly rough one.
We had a big stag night in and I took a large amount of pelters from them, but generally managed to give as good as I got.
I felt as though I'd done a few boxing rounds when I came offstage though.
We got a review for our Wednesday show. It was a 2 star review in the "3 Weeks" newspaper. This was unfortunate as this was by a considerable distance our least successful night. The 3 previous nights had been rocking. This night had come as something of a shock as we were confronted with a small, very unresponsive audience for the first time. The positive quote bits were "great ideas", "all were likeable" and "original and funny".
The main thrust of the criticism was that we appeared "daunted" on stage, and our "great ideas" never went anywhere. Fair enough, but a real shame they picked that night.
Saturday night was a fairly decent crowd of about 40. The Scotsman reviewer was in. Yikes. I wasn't too pleased with my performance. I was edgy after my previous night's mauling by the Stag party, and I suspect I looked a little tense on stage.
Got fairly solid laughs throughout though, (I thought).
My step-brother was in with a friend. He watched me then left immediately after my set, as he wanted to get back to the pub. Of course, this action of him leaving after my set could be misinterpreted by the reviewer, couldn't it?
Tony got a great reaction, but strangely Patrick's material didn't get it's usual intensity of laughter. Also, 3 people left just minutes before the end complaining about the heat. It is like a blast furnace in the venue. I don't blame them.
I've got a deep foreboding about what the Scotsman review will say. Again, we have been unlucky in the timing of a press visit, but hey, thems the breaks.
The review tomorrow will determine the overall success of the show.
It was all done in a bit of a rush as the deadline was very tight. It was intended as a piece of light relief to counter-balance the coverage of Robin Cook's funeral.
Basically, I was shown before and after using a split-screen, with a normal scruffy Jim alongside a Gucci designer clothes wearing trendy Jim.
I was filmed coming down an escalator and had to run back up it to do a re-take.
I tripped near the top and only just avoided putting a hole in the knee of my £599 trousers. (and no, I DIDN'T get to keep the clothes! shocking!)
I was asked how I felt in my new cobber and replied ; "Well, I feel sophisticated, confident and elegant ; and I think I may wear this for my show "Park's Circus" at Roman Eagle Lodge, Venue 21 at 9.55pm", and then did a big Eric Morecambe style cheesy grin to camera.
I was then filmed leaving the shop with a dolly bird on each arm gazing lovingly into my eyes.
I watched the footage later on "Scotland Today" lying on the floor with my hands over my face. To say it was slightly cheesy is something of a huge understatement but it also was very, very funny. And thoughts raced through my head of all the people I've ever known who might have chanced upon this remarkable news story featuring me, whilst they were having their fish fingers and chips.
The show on Friday night was another fairly rough one.
We had a big stag night in and I took a large amount of pelters from them, but generally managed to give as good as I got.
I felt as though I'd done a few boxing rounds when I came offstage though.
We got a review for our Wednesday show. It was a 2 star review in the "3 Weeks" newspaper. This was unfortunate as this was by a considerable distance our least successful night. The 3 previous nights had been rocking. This night had come as something of a shock as we were confronted with a small, very unresponsive audience for the first time. The positive quote bits were "great ideas", "all were likeable" and "original and funny".
The main thrust of the criticism was that we appeared "daunted" on stage, and our "great ideas" never went anywhere. Fair enough, but a real shame they picked that night.
Saturday night was a fairly decent crowd of about 40. The Scotsman reviewer was in. Yikes. I wasn't too pleased with my performance. I was edgy after my previous night's mauling by the Stag party, and I suspect I looked a little tense on stage.
Got fairly solid laughs throughout though, (I thought).
My step-brother was in with a friend. He watched me then left immediately after my set, as he wanted to get back to the pub. Of course, this action of him leaving after my set could be misinterpreted by the reviewer, couldn't it?
Tony got a great reaction, but strangely Patrick's material didn't get it's usual intensity of laughter. Also, 3 people left just minutes before the end complaining about the heat. It is like a blast furnace in the venue. I don't blame them.
I've got a deep foreboding about what the Scotsman review will say. Again, we have been unlucky in the timing of a press visit, but hey, thems the breaks.
The review tomorrow will determine the overall success of the show.
Friday, August 12, 2005
12/08/05 Scotland Today
This afternoon I have been asked by the STV news programme "Scotland Today" to take part in a makeover at "Harvey Nichols" store in Edinburgh.
I have been suggested by one of the researchers as being "badly in need of one".
I have been promised that I will be allowed an opportunity to plug the Fringe show.
I am acutely aware that I run the risk of making an absolute twat out of myself on national TV. However, the publicity opportunity has to be seen to justifying whatever happens.
It's on tonight... Friday 12/8 6pm....
I have been suggested by one of the researchers as being "badly in need of one".
I have been promised that I will be allowed an opportunity to plug the Fringe show.
I am acutely aware that I run the risk of making an absolute twat out of myself on national TV. However, the publicity opportunity has to be seen to justifying whatever happens.
It's on tonight... Friday 12/8 6pm....
11/08/05 Death is bad for business
I noticed that the cafe at the top of Lothian Road has closed down. It hadn't really been there that long.
The cafe premises were previously an Undertakers' Parlour. I have to say that this fact always put me off frequenting this establishment. There's not any particularly logical reason for this. The association with death just isn't a great winning formula for an eating establishment.
I can only assume that a significant number of potential customers felt the same way, hence it's collapse as a business concern.
There was a flat for rent behind "David Bann's" restaurant in St Mary St which lay available for rent for years, (btw yes, of course, I have a business involvement in this restaurant. Why not pop in during the festival? bla bla bla www.davidbann.com)
The problem with this flat was that the kitchen window gave a view of the back of another Undertakers Parlour, and a regular daily scene involved witnessing coffins being loaded and unloaded from hearses, with a monotonous regularity.
Obviously living in this flat would give you a rather uncomfortable daily reminder of your own mortality, and this consequently drastically affected its marketability.
However, there is someone living in it now.
I wonder what sort of people they are?
It was another small audience tonight, but they were all up for it, and it was enjoyable again. Looking forward to some big audiences over the weekend.
The cafe premises were previously an Undertakers' Parlour. I have to say that this fact always put me off frequenting this establishment. There's not any particularly logical reason for this. The association with death just isn't a great winning formula for an eating establishment.
I can only assume that a significant number of potential customers felt the same way, hence it's collapse as a business concern.
There was a flat for rent behind "David Bann's" restaurant in St Mary St which lay available for rent for years, (btw yes, of course, I have a business involvement in this restaurant. Why not pop in during the festival? bla bla bla www.davidbann.com)
The problem with this flat was that the kitchen window gave a view of the back of another Undertakers Parlour, and a regular daily scene involved witnessing coffins being loaded and unloaded from hearses, with a monotonous regularity.
Obviously living in this flat would give you a rather uncomfortable daily reminder of your own mortality, and this consequently drastically affected its marketability.
However, there is someone living in it now.
I wonder what sort of people they are?
It was another small audience tonight, but they were all up for it, and it was enjoyable again. Looking forward to some big audiences over the weekend.
10/08/05 The Going Gets Tough
A smaller than usual audience tonight, and by far our toughest evening.
They seemed to be enjoying the show ok as they were all sitting with broad grins on their coupons. However, this "smileyness" was rarely promoted into guffaws of laughter.
There is a problem here. The currency of stand-up comedy is laughter. Nothing else suffices. So it was a real slog getting through the show.
The guest act was John Dixon, (he and his famed "imaginary goose" friend, Gerry).
I instinctively realised from the outset that this was not his ideal audience.
I like his stuff and he really cracks me up but it's very leftfield material. Needless to say the audience were completely baffled by his machine gun delivery and obscure references. He had the cast in absolute stitches backstage though...
I was going to have a night off the beer. However, after this show we all felt like we needed a drink and proceeded to have several...
You can only really have an alcohol free post-performance if you have an average, fairly decent show. A stormer requires celebrating and a slog requires a reassuring pint or two. It's a vicious circle.
I had succumbed the previous evening to some kind of bug which left my throat raw and my nose running furiously. Luckily, it has come and gone within 24 hours.
They seemed to be enjoying the show ok as they were all sitting with broad grins on their coupons. However, this "smileyness" was rarely promoted into guffaws of laughter.
There is a problem here. The currency of stand-up comedy is laughter. Nothing else suffices. So it was a real slog getting through the show.
The guest act was John Dixon, (he and his famed "imaginary goose" friend, Gerry).
I instinctively realised from the outset that this was not his ideal audience.
I like his stuff and he really cracks me up but it's very leftfield material. Needless to say the audience were completely baffled by his machine gun delivery and obscure references. He had the cast in absolute stitches backstage though...
I was going to have a night off the beer. However, after this show we all felt like we needed a drink and proceeded to have several...
You can only really have an alcohol free post-performance if you have an average, fairly decent show. A stormer requires celebrating and a slog requires a reassuring pint or two. It's a vicious circle.
I had succumbed the previous evening to some kind of bug which left my throat raw and my nose running furiously. Luckily, it has come and gone within 24 hours.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
08/08/05 Cruising Along
We're averaging 40-50 punters a night which is good. We give a handful of freebies away every night at the youth hostel right next to the venue, and they are always used. It is definitely the only way to get these backpackers in, as they sit in the draughty old hostel bar browsing their copies of "Europe on 50 cents a Day!".
This has the effect of turning the show audience into a United Nations sample every night.
We're getting a lot of people to come in on account of our flyering as well. It does really work. It's tiring, you get fed up with people ignoring your salespitch and walking past without looking at you....but unfortunately, it does really work. So we'll have to keep doing it.
I think it helps that people recognise from the flyer that the people flyering are actually the performers in the show. We hear a lot of remarks along the lines of "that's what the Fringe is really all about..." to which we nod enthusiastically and direct them to the venue.
Tonight was definitely the best in terms of performance and audience reaction.
This has the effect of turning the show audience into a United Nations sample every night.
We're getting a lot of people to come in on account of our flyering as well. It does really work. It's tiring, you get fed up with people ignoring your salespitch and walking past without looking at you....but unfortunately, it does really work. So we'll have to keep doing it.
I think it helps that people recognise from the flyer that the people flyering are actually the performers in the show. We hear a lot of remarks along the lines of "that's what the Fringe is really all about..." to which we nod enthusiastically and direct them to the venue.
Tonight was definitely the best in terms of performance and audience reaction.
Monday, August 08, 2005
07/08/05 Cream Crackered!
I struggled to get out of bed this morning. Totally knackered.
I spent the afternoon filming The Edinburgh Samba School taking part in the Festival Cavalcade procession along Princes St.
Another sunny day. They've been doing the parade for 8 years now in a "big" way, and every day has been gloriously sunny. In terms of Scottish weather in August, that is an unbelievable statistic. The odds must be about 10 000 000 to 1 I would have thought, (at a conservative estimate)
There was a pirate theme in evidence this year, and an accompaniment by a big brass section. My intention was to film half of the parade from the float, then dismount and film the second half on the ground. The lorry usually stops now and again. However this year it just kept going continuously and it became clear that there would be no stopping.
Therefore, I had to ignore health and safety directives and jump from a moving lorry. I hope T.E.S.S. appreciate me risking my life to get some artistic shots of the parade. It all sounded great although there were the usual intermittent timing problems between the musicians on the float and the bateria. But the overall impression was great and it was by far the best float in the parade on the evidence I saw.
More flyering at night. It's a 2 for 1 deal on tickets tonight. We get an audience of 60. Patrick's compering is masterly. He has to leave early to do another gig leaving the show in the hopefully capable hands of Tony and I. It feels like a bit of a "Home Alone" situation to us. We do a spot of audience interaction and banter ourselves. It all goes really well. Katy Smurthwaite is the guest act and has me cackling heartily backstage. Tony has me in fits as he spontaneously introduces a dog ventriloquist routine into his act. We're trying to tinker with the show every day, and it's grand when a new idea goes down really well.
What will he have up his sleeve tonight? A nation holds its breath! :-)
I spent the afternoon filming The Edinburgh Samba School taking part in the Festival Cavalcade procession along Princes St.
Another sunny day. They've been doing the parade for 8 years now in a "big" way, and every day has been gloriously sunny. In terms of Scottish weather in August, that is an unbelievable statistic. The odds must be about 10 000 000 to 1 I would have thought, (at a conservative estimate)
There was a pirate theme in evidence this year, and an accompaniment by a big brass section. My intention was to film half of the parade from the float, then dismount and film the second half on the ground. The lorry usually stops now and again. However this year it just kept going continuously and it became clear that there would be no stopping.
Therefore, I had to ignore health and safety directives and jump from a moving lorry. I hope T.E.S.S. appreciate me risking my life to get some artistic shots of the parade. It all sounded great although there were the usual intermittent timing problems between the musicians on the float and the bateria. But the overall impression was great and it was by far the best float in the parade on the evidence I saw.
More flyering at night. It's a 2 for 1 deal on tickets tonight. We get an audience of 60. Patrick's compering is masterly. He has to leave early to do another gig leaving the show in the hopefully capable hands of Tony and I. It feels like a bit of a "Home Alone" situation to us. We do a spot of audience interaction and banter ourselves. It all goes really well. Katy Smurthwaite is the guest act and has me cackling heartily backstage. Tony has me in fits as he spontaneously introduces a dog ventriloquist routine into his act. We're trying to tinker with the show every day, and it's grand when a new idea goes down really well.
What will he have up his sleeve tonight? A nation holds its breath! :-)
06/08/05 Day 2 of The Fringe Show
I awoke with a bit of a dread feeling thinking about another 16 shows to go. I didn't really enjoy the first night. What was good though was that Nicky gave a very detailed critique of my act and what areas he thought could be improved upon in terms of the delivery and storytelling aspects. It's really good to have an honest appraisal and I took a lot of good pointers from our discussion.
I had an early evening slot at the Laughing Horse gig in the "Canon's Gait" bar down the Royal Mile. I decided to try a new beginning and include a brief anecdote describing my grandfather's recurring blocked toilet.
This was a smart move as it got a great reaction. It makes life so much easier if you start with a big belly laugh. It stays in the set. Hurray!
The venue was packed out, probably more than 100 people. It was great to hear that "big crowd" laugh again. I felt much looser and relaxed and remembered how enjoyable it all is when things are going well.
so from a fairly downbeat mood at the start of the day, my comedy mojo was on a high again. It's all so fickle this comedy thing.
Flyering is tough but we're getting people in on the basis of it. Patrick is undoubtedly the "Flyerers' Flyerer" and gets people interested in the show effortlessly with his blarney charm.
Tony and I have to work a little harder! Hopefully we can learn from the master throughout the duration of the show.
I enjoyed the 2nd night. Not a big crowd. 17. But they really enjoyed it and laughed heartily at all the acts.
This Fringe-ing is a great diet...I've lost 5lbs in the last week. A combination of nervous tension and walking miles around Edinburgh every day is doing the business. "The Comedy Diet". That could really take off?
I had an early evening slot at the Laughing Horse gig in the "Canon's Gait" bar down the Royal Mile. I decided to try a new beginning and include a brief anecdote describing my grandfather's recurring blocked toilet.
This was a smart move as it got a great reaction. It makes life so much easier if you start with a big belly laugh. It stays in the set. Hurray!
The venue was packed out, probably more than 100 people. It was great to hear that "big crowd" laugh again. I felt much looser and relaxed and remembered how enjoyable it all is when things are going well.
so from a fairly downbeat mood at the start of the day, my comedy mojo was on a high again. It's all so fickle this comedy thing.
Flyering is tough but we're getting people in on the basis of it. Patrick is undoubtedly the "Flyerers' Flyerer" and gets people interested in the show effortlessly with his blarney charm.
Tony and I have to work a little harder! Hopefully we can learn from the master throughout the duration of the show.
I enjoyed the 2nd night. Not a big crowd. 17. But they really enjoyed it and laughed heartily at all the acts.
This Fringe-ing is a great diet...I've lost 5lbs in the last week. A combination of nervous tension and walking miles around Edinburgh every day is doing the business. "The Comedy Diet". That could really take off?
05/08/05 Park's Circus opens!
I had a rather harassed day organising "public liability insurance" for the show. My fault. There have been so many emails relating to the show from the venue, the Fringe Society etc etc that the insurance requirement got lost in the rubble.
Thankfully we managed to arrange it that afternoon...after a struggle!
Me old mucker Nicky Hind arrived in town. He'd flown in from San Francisco for a little European jaunt and was keen to see the opening night of this comedy extravaganza. He's the elder brother of Bob Pereira Hind.
We've known each other for a long time...early in the last century...as we both had the privilege to grow up in the exciting metropolis that is South Queensferry.
Many an enjoyable evening was spent getting pissed at the famous Hawes Inn, as we irritated our mutual friends with a stream of in-jokes and relentlessly "hilarious" banter. This was where Robert Louis Stevenson wrote "Kidnapped". Yes, that is an interesting fact isn't it.
Anyway, Nicky came and helped do some flyering for us.
We had an opening audience of 13. This seemed a good omen...in a kind of "Omen"/666/Damion kind of way.
Some old academic aquaintances of mine arrived in a fairly pissed up state, and proceeded to act like an audience for the "Old Mother Goose" pantomime at the Kings Theatre. Any comedic pause was taken as an opportunity to come up with a hilarious heckle.
I was a bit disgruntled by the whole thing, but I was still pleased to see the pissed old fuckers and enjoyed a post-show beer with them in the handily located "Castle Arms".
The other notable cock up was the moment when it became clear that the audience were more lit up than the stage. I think Matthew had reversed the required house lights/stage settings. Anyway, this got a good laugh when Patrick became aware of it and mentioned he thought that the audience were doing a show.
My own performance was ropey and I went into my Metal Mickey-esque over-fast delivery again. It was my first gig for 3 weeks though (the previous 2 nights gigs I'd been scheduled to do had been cancelled afer a promoter/venue manager dispute), and having such a long gap had contributed to a stuttering display.
Thankfully we managed to arrange it that afternoon...after a struggle!
Me old mucker Nicky Hind arrived in town. He'd flown in from San Francisco for a little European jaunt and was keen to see the opening night of this comedy extravaganza. He's the elder brother of Bob Pereira Hind.
We've known each other for a long time...early in the last century...as we both had the privilege to grow up in the exciting metropolis that is South Queensferry.
Many an enjoyable evening was spent getting pissed at the famous Hawes Inn, as we irritated our mutual friends with a stream of in-jokes and relentlessly "hilarious" banter. This was where Robert Louis Stevenson wrote "Kidnapped". Yes, that is an interesting fact isn't it.
Anyway, Nicky came and helped do some flyering for us.
We had an opening audience of 13. This seemed a good omen...in a kind of "Omen"/666/Damion kind of way.
Some old academic aquaintances of mine arrived in a fairly pissed up state, and proceeded to act like an audience for the "Old Mother Goose" pantomime at the Kings Theatre. Any comedic pause was taken as an opportunity to come up with a hilarious heckle.
I was a bit disgruntled by the whole thing, but I was still pleased to see the pissed old fuckers and enjoyed a post-show beer with them in the handily located "Castle Arms".
The other notable cock up was the moment when it became clear that the audience were more lit up than the stage. I think Matthew had reversed the required house lights/stage settings. Anyway, this got a good laugh when Patrick became aware of it and mentioned he thought that the audience were doing a show.
My own performance was ropey and I went into my Metal Mickey-esque over-fast delivery again. It was my first gig for 3 weeks though (the previous 2 nights gigs I'd been scheduled to do had been cancelled afer a promoter/venue manager dispute), and having such a long gap had contributed to a stuttering display.
04/08/05 Not Long To Go Now
I went to see Richard Herring's show "Someone Likes Yoghurt" at The Pleasance. It was great stuff. Just a pity that it was a very unresponsive audience. It's nicer to be in a packed venue where the whole crowd rocks with laughter.
Nonetheless, I love his stuff. His great talent is to start from a fairly improbable piece of source material and then add layer upon layer of comic takes on it. The biggest laughs are had when he just keeps this process going way beyond the audience's expectations of the material's lifespan . Some may think that he goes on too long on single sections of the show, but I love all that.
I met up with Patrick after the show as he'd just arrived from London. We then went for a swift pint in the Royal Oak.
My upstairs neighbour and his wife came into the bar as they'd been dining in a nearby restaurant. He reads a lot of autobiographies and quoted me a few extracts from some of them, including slippery ex-newspaper editor Piers Morgan. We disagreed on a few fundamentals of what type of comedy is funny and then went on our way.
Later on I caught the BBC Stand Up show. Very strong line up. Compered by Andrew Maxwell. I'd never seen him before, but it was plain to see he is a somewhat sickeningly talented young man. I also enjoyed Lucy Porter, Simon Munnery and Andrew Lawrence.
Lucy's take on a "Bukakke" video almost made me fall off my seat laughing...
Nonetheless, I love his stuff. His great talent is to start from a fairly improbable piece of source material and then add layer upon layer of comic takes on it. The biggest laughs are had when he just keeps this process going way beyond the audience's expectations of the material's lifespan . Some may think that he goes on too long on single sections of the show, but I love all that.
I met up with Patrick after the show as he'd just arrived from London. We then went for a swift pint in the Royal Oak.
My upstairs neighbour and his wife came into the bar as they'd been dining in a nearby restaurant. He reads a lot of autobiographies and quoted me a few extracts from some of them, including slippery ex-newspaper editor Piers Morgan. We disagreed on a few fundamentals of what type of comedy is funny and then went on our way.
Later on I caught the BBC Stand Up show. Very strong line up. Compered by Andrew Maxwell. I'd never seen him before, but it was plain to see he is a somewhat sickeningly talented young man. I also enjoyed Lucy Porter, Simon Munnery and Andrew Lawrence.
Lucy's take on a "Bukakke" video almost made me fall off my seat laughing...
Thursday, August 04, 2005
03/08/05 Technical Rehearsal
Myself, Tony and our sound engineer/sambista Matthew met at Roman Eagle Lodge for the "Park's Circus" technical rehearsal. This mainly consisted of Tony and I talking bollocks into a microphone for an hour, as well as adjusting the brightness of the lights and playing some funny cds.
I'd say the event was a success. Quite what the other company in the dressing room, who were forced to listen to all this, thought of our comedy potential is entirely another matter.
Tony has engineered some very funny interactive sound effect cds which had me cackling with laughter.
It's a nice intimate space with a fairly large stage to run about on.
I'm happy with it. I think we'll get a good comedy atmosphere thing going down in it.
Matthew did cause me a brief moment of alarm when he made a reference to the "first night" being on Sunday, when it is in fact 2 days earlier than that, on Friday.
Luckily, he can still do Friday and Saturday.
I had a bit of a panic attack at work during the day as the realisation of the proximity of the first show suddenly dawned. I'd been surprisingly calm about the whole thing up till then, but now it's feeling a little more nervy jangly.
We've cunningly avoided the danger of being stale and over-rehearsed by having no rehearsals whatsoever, thus ensuring a live and dangerous feel to the proceedings.
It's been a bit tricky, what with me in Edinburgh, Tony in Glasgow and Patrick in London.
Hoever, the main body of the show is our individual stand-up routines, which we should all be reasonably familar with. The links and intros might be a bit creaky for the first couple of shows. But they're "previews"...so that's allowed isn't it?
I'd say the event was a success. Quite what the other company in the dressing room, who were forced to listen to all this, thought of our comedy potential is entirely another matter.
Tony has engineered some very funny interactive sound effect cds which had me cackling with laughter.
It's a nice intimate space with a fairly large stage to run about on.
I'm happy with it. I think we'll get a good comedy atmosphere thing going down in it.
Matthew did cause me a brief moment of alarm when he made a reference to the "first night" being on Sunday, when it is in fact 2 days earlier than that, on Friday.
Luckily, he can still do Friday and Saturday.
I had a bit of a panic attack at work during the day as the realisation of the proximity of the first show suddenly dawned. I'd been surprisingly calm about the whole thing up till then, but now it's feeling a little more nervy jangly.
We've cunningly avoided the danger of being stale and over-rehearsed by having no rehearsals whatsoever, thus ensuring a live and dangerous feel to the proceedings.
It's been a bit tricky, what with me in Edinburgh, Tony in Glasgow and Patrick in London.
Hoever, the main body of the show is our individual stand-up routines, which we should all be reasonably familar with. The links and intros might be a bit creaky for the first couple of shows. But they're "previews"...so that's allowed isn't it?
02/08/05 Tour de l'Edinbourg ("King of the Pissheads")
Cheryl was hosting a "Chilli Evening" in honour of James from Australia who was on a short visit to Scotland. He did the IT contractor malarkey as well.
The food was grand and there was a veritable tsunami of wine. Russell brought along a 5 litre monster bottle that he and Colin had bought at a charity auction.
I "hilariously" joked that Russell looked liked a "tiny wine waiter" as he cradled the gigantic vessel.
After a prolonged session of chirpy banter, I cycled back home.
I know this because, I remember cycling to Cheryl's flat, and my bike was definitely back at mine the next morning. However, I can't actually remember the journey cycling back at all. My memory has blanked this episode out.
This is very strange. I'd had a few wines and was fairly squiffy, but I wasn't too bad really. I'm sure I would have had the presence of mind to take detours through the back streets, but I can't be sure.
The next day I also found out that I'd placed a bet on a football match on Betfair.com when I got back. I can't remember doing that either!
I backed Traponzor to beat Famagusta (which they did...and I won £86).
So, I must have been fairly sober-ish to do that?
Anyway, I've now won my last 18 bets and have a made over 3 grand in the last 2 months dancing with the devil of online betting.
It obviously can't last, but it seems like easy money, (and it's tax free of course!).
I don't feel any great compulsion to bet every day. It's just generally when I spot a good opportunity, (or have drunk a lot of red wine...I'll have to get a child safety lock put on the PC).
The rules are stick to your limits, and there is a compulsory 24 hour cooling off period after a losing bet, to avoid the trap of chasing losses by making idiotic punts.
But kids, don't listen to me. I'll likely be out on the street soon, having had to sell my flat and all my possessions to meet my crippling gambling debts.
It could make a good subject for my solo 2006 Fringe show though?
The food was grand and there was a veritable tsunami of wine. Russell brought along a 5 litre monster bottle that he and Colin had bought at a charity auction.
I "hilariously" joked that Russell looked liked a "tiny wine waiter" as he cradled the gigantic vessel.
After a prolonged session of chirpy banter, I cycled back home.
I know this because, I remember cycling to Cheryl's flat, and my bike was definitely back at mine the next morning. However, I can't actually remember the journey cycling back at all. My memory has blanked this episode out.
This is very strange. I'd had a few wines and was fairly squiffy, but I wasn't too bad really. I'm sure I would have had the presence of mind to take detours through the back streets, but I can't be sure.
The next day I also found out that I'd placed a bet on a football match on Betfair.com when I got back. I can't remember doing that either!
I backed Traponzor to beat Famagusta (which they did...and I won £86).
So, I must have been fairly sober-ish to do that?
Anyway, I've now won my last 18 bets and have a made over 3 grand in the last 2 months dancing with the devil of online betting.
It obviously can't last, but it seems like easy money, (and it's tax free of course!).
I don't feel any great compulsion to bet every day. It's just generally when I spot a good opportunity, (or have drunk a lot of red wine...I'll have to get a child safety lock put on the PC).
The rules are stick to your limits, and there is a compulsory 24 hour cooling off period after a losing bet, to avoid the trap of chasing losses by making idiotic punts.
But kids, don't listen to me. I'll likely be out on the street soon, having had to sell my flat and all my possessions to meet my crippling gambling debts.
It could make a good subject for my solo 2006 Fringe show though?
01/08/05 A Blogger's work is never done
Yes, it does become more difficult to to Blog AND work at the same time. What a lightweight! I know...I know...I know....
Talking of weight, since I started cycling a lot, I've lost 3 pounds, (although I've also nearly been killed about 20 times...but hey, it's worth it!)
Since I stopped smoking (yes still abstaining, as I approach the classic ex-smoker's "Beechers Brook", ie doing a show on the Fringe), I have been putting on the lard with reckless abandon.
So much show that the "3 man show" we're doing was on the verge of becoming a "4 man show". Anyway, it's good to see the scales going into reverse. And I expect all the running about during the Fringe, the nervous tension etc etc should ensure that I'm down to 9 stone by the end of August.
Edinburgh is starting to jam up already.
A lot of new traffic restrictions have been implemented since last years' festival.
It's going to be total gridlock. If you want my advice don't even think about bringing your car anywhere near the city centre for the next 3 weeks.
Talking of weight, since I started cycling a lot, I've lost 3 pounds, (although I've also nearly been killed about 20 times...but hey, it's worth it!)
Since I stopped smoking (yes still abstaining, as I approach the classic ex-smoker's "Beechers Brook", ie doing a show on the Fringe), I have been putting on the lard with reckless abandon.
So much show that the "3 man show" we're doing was on the verge of becoming a "4 man show". Anyway, it's good to see the scales going into reverse. And I expect all the running about during the Fringe, the nervous tension etc etc should ensure that I'm down to 9 stone by the end of August.
Edinburgh is starting to jam up already.
A lot of new traffic restrictions have been implemented since last years' festival.
It's going to be total gridlock. If you want my advice don't even think about bringing your car anywhere near the city centre for the next 3 weeks.
Monday, August 01, 2005
31/07/05 Someone Likes Yoghurt
Someone Likes Yoghurt
As I'm involved in a show myself this year, my opportunities for Fringe-going are more limited than usual.
However, I'm going to make a point of catching Richard Herring's show "Someone Likes Yoghurt".
I've been following his Blog "Warming Up" for the past few months (read it here).
He's written a blog entry for every day over the best part of 3 years, and it is the most consistently funny Blog I've ever come across,(in fact it was the inspiration for my own attempt at Blogging).
There's a supreme comic intelligence at work here, and reading his Blog has become part of my daily routine.
It's a measure of how good it is that I get very irritated when a few days go by without a new entry. However, this is a wholly inappropriate complaint, as the man is churning out all this entertainment for nothing. He deserves a medal.
It's been fascinating to see how the material for the show has been constructed through his takes on often the most unlikely of source material.
His previous Fringe shows "Christ On A Bike", "Talking Cock" and "The 12 Labours of Hercules Terrace" were all outstanding, but I think this one is going to be really special.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
30/07/05 Stop All The Clocks
I lost heavily at golf today on the hallowed turf of Muirfield to Colin Crabbie.
4 and 3. The King Is Dead, Long Live The King...
I feel like Superman after someone has slipped a cube of kryptonite in his back pocket, and then scarpered off.
Well it had to happen sometime. My improbable run of crushing golf victories couldn't go on forever. I blame going back to work.
Had a splendid social round at my flat on Friday night in honour of visiting dignitaries, "The Pereira Hinds".
Much laughter and banter and tasty food and wine.
All the greats were there. Nerdy physics lecturer Martin, Pete the painter, Dave the top Edinburgh restauranteur, Ann and Julia, Roz and David (aka Dr Schadenfreude). A quality line up.
Dr Shadenfreude did query the mention of "triangular sandwiches" in our Fringe programme blurb.
I think it's appropriate because ,to me, triangular sandwches are a representation of a "special occasion".
There's just something inherently more posh and sophisticated about sandwiches cut in this way, (don't ask me why though). So, you see, we've cunningly juxtapositioned our show with this "special occasion" feel. Ingenious.
Anyway, his dissection of the show has begun. Yikes.
I can only hope that he doesn't spot any "no star" reviews for "Park's Circus" in the press over the next few weeks.
If he does, I'll be expecting to see a plane overhead with a trailing banner saying,
"Hey Jim, You're S-H-I-T !!...I told you so..!" with a big smiley face next to it
I'm only bantering here...we all get a bit "schadenfreude-ish" from time to time. However, he does definitely find tales of misfortune and failure infinitely more entertaining than a dreary tale of success, recognition and critical acclaim, (not that this is likely to happen!)
I'm not saying there's anything wrong with this. Private Frazer was always my favourite character in "Dad's Army".
The "Pereira Hinds" are now on their way to the tiny village of Crovie. I was granted a goodbye kiss from their lovely daughters Harper and Alice.
I interpreted this as a sign that they enjoyed their stay at "Park HQ" and did not find me too annoying and idiotic.
Great stuff!
4 and 3. The King Is Dead, Long Live The King...
I feel like Superman after someone has slipped a cube of kryptonite in his back pocket, and then scarpered off.
Well it had to happen sometime. My improbable run of crushing golf victories couldn't go on forever. I blame going back to work.
Had a splendid social round at my flat on Friday night in honour of visiting dignitaries, "The Pereira Hinds".
Much laughter and banter and tasty food and wine.
All the greats were there. Nerdy physics lecturer Martin, Pete the painter, Dave the top Edinburgh restauranteur, Ann and Julia, Roz and David (aka Dr Schadenfreude). A quality line up.
Dr Shadenfreude did query the mention of "triangular sandwiches" in our Fringe programme blurb.
I think it's appropriate because ,to me, triangular sandwches are a representation of a "special occasion".
There's just something inherently more posh and sophisticated about sandwiches cut in this way, (don't ask me why though). So, you see, we've cunningly juxtapositioned our show with this "special occasion" feel. Ingenious.
Anyway, his dissection of the show has begun. Yikes.
I can only hope that he doesn't spot any "no star" reviews for "Park's Circus" in the press over the next few weeks.
If he does, I'll be expecting to see a plane overhead with a trailing banner saying,
"Hey Jim, You're S-H-I-T !!...I told you so..!" with a big smiley face next to it
I'm only bantering here...we all get a bit "schadenfreude-ish" from time to time. However, he does definitely find tales of misfortune and failure infinitely more entertaining than a dreary tale of success, recognition and critical acclaim, (not that this is likely to happen!)
I'm not saying there's anything wrong with this. Private Frazer was always my favourite character in "Dad's Army".
The "Pereira Hinds" are now on their way to the tiny village of Crovie. I was granted a goodbye kiss from their lovely daughters Harper and Alice.
I interpreted this as a sign that they enjoyed their stay at "Park HQ" and did not find me too annoying and idiotic.
Great stuff!
Friday, July 29, 2005
29/07/05 Back To Normal
Scotland seems to have now finished its hilarious impersonation of "Saudi Arabia" and has reverted to auditioning for the location of a possible "Bladerunner" sequel.
It's dreicht, wet and miserable. Anyway, I'm stuck working in a Factory Farming-esque windowless warehouse, so it's of little consequence to me.
Friday is casual dress day. It's interesting to see how people "express" themselves when given a casual option.
It's not always a pretty sight, (a bit rich coming from style guru and bastion of sartorial elegance, Jim Park, I hear you say in a rather unpleasant, sarcastic tone ).
All the contractors are sat together at round a work station, (I think that's the technical term for it).
We all discuss how things were done better at other places in the old days, and what we would do if we were in charge, and make impertinent remarks about software applications.
It really is a rollercoaster of excitement and intrigue, and I enjoy every minute of it.
Occasionally we take turns to go and get drinks from the free vending machine.
Your preferred drink is given in number form.
For example, I ask for a "32 Strong". This is a white tea with no sugar with the "Strong" setting selected. You have the option to select a "Normal" setting or a "Weak" setting instead.
This is great, and represents the kind of thing that we used to marvel at on the popular BBC programme "Tomorrows World".
When I first started working, a wifie came round with a tea trolley and dispensed china cups of stewed tea to the masses. She also gave a chocolate biscuit to members of staff above a certain grade.
I think this practice was discontinued after threats of the "chocolate biscuit" issue being used by some militants as a pretence for a Marxist style overthrow of the company hierarchy.
We can then even have lunch in the canteen!
I see people walk past whom I've known over the years working on different contracts here. Some stop for a chat, whilst others pretend that they don't know you no more.
I don't really mind. I'll generally chat to any old fucker and am legendary for suffering fools gladly. I just can't do "rude" with any conviction.
I'm quite good at making stinging remarks about people when they are not present, but, in my experience, that's generally a much easier discipline to master.
It's great this work thing.
Never a dull moment!
It's dreicht, wet and miserable. Anyway, I'm stuck working in a Factory Farming-esque windowless warehouse, so it's of little consequence to me.
Friday is casual dress day. It's interesting to see how people "express" themselves when given a casual option.
It's not always a pretty sight, (a bit rich coming from style guru and bastion of sartorial elegance, Jim Park, I hear you say in a rather unpleasant, sarcastic tone ).
All the contractors are sat together at round a work station, (I think that's the technical term for it).
We all discuss how things were done better at other places in the old days, and what we would do if we were in charge, and make impertinent remarks about software applications.
It really is a rollercoaster of excitement and intrigue, and I enjoy every minute of it.
Occasionally we take turns to go and get drinks from the free vending machine.
Your preferred drink is given in number form.
For example, I ask for a "32 Strong". This is a white tea with no sugar with the "Strong" setting selected. You have the option to select a "Normal" setting or a "Weak" setting instead.
This is great, and represents the kind of thing that we used to marvel at on the popular BBC programme "Tomorrows World".
When I first started working, a wifie came round with a tea trolley and dispensed china cups of stewed tea to the masses. She also gave a chocolate biscuit to members of staff above a certain grade.
I think this practice was discontinued after threats of the "chocolate biscuit" issue being used by some militants as a pretence for a Marxist style overthrow of the company hierarchy.
We can then even have lunch in the canteen!
I see people walk past whom I've known over the years working on different contracts here. Some stop for a chat, whilst others pretend that they don't know you no more.
I don't really mind. I'll generally chat to any old fucker and am legendary for suffering fools gladly. I just can't do "rude" with any conviction.
I'm quite good at making stinging remarks about people when they are not present, but, in my experience, that's generally a much easier discipline to master.
It's great this work thing.
Never a dull moment!
28/07/05 Coming At Ya ; The Pereira-Hinds
Robert & Simone and daughters Harper and Alice have arrived to stay for a couple of days after driving up from t'Big Smoke.
We took wine and had a rather nice veggie curry from Eastern Spice in Canonmills. Very good. I recommend it.
Watched "Extras". I like it but it's missing a foil like the Gareth character in The Office.
I've been finding this working lark quite tiring. I don't know how people manage to do it all the time. It just seems very presumptious of employers to expect you to be there for such a long time every day. Whose idea was this?
Couldn't they just print off enough money to give the people as much as they needed without this tedious ritual of having to "work" for it?
I suppose some people would have to work in the money printing factory, but that could be done on a rotational basis, whereby those of working age could commit to work "one working day" every 5 years within the factory, thus ensuring the continuing supply of money. (a fairly relaxed form on National Service)
Then we could all play golf, laze about in the sun, become addicted to online gambling and write self-indulgent diaries on the Internet, which we could all read and make hilarious comments on, in a way similarly to the anonymous troll (or so he thinks! ha ha ) "Urban Fox"...
Of course, the forces that preserve the Capitalist system would never allow such a radical and groundbreaking departure from the current modus operandum.
Ah well a man can dream....
We took wine and had a rather nice veggie curry from Eastern Spice in Canonmills. Very good. I recommend it.
Watched "Extras". I like it but it's missing a foil like the Gareth character in The Office.
I've been finding this working lark quite tiring. I don't know how people manage to do it all the time. It just seems very presumptious of employers to expect you to be there for such a long time every day. Whose idea was this?
Couldn't they just print off enough money to give the people as much as they needed without this tedious ritual of having to "work" for it?
I suppose some people would have to work in the money printing factory, but that could be done on a rotational basis, whereby those of working age could commit to work "one working day" every 5 years within the factory, thus ensuring the continuing supply of money. (a fairly relaxed form on National Service)
Then we could all play golf, laze about in the sun, become addicted to online gambling and write self-indulgent diaries on the Internet, which we could all read and make hilarious comments on, in a way similarly to the anonymous troll (or so he thinks! ha ha ) "Urban Fox"...
Of course, the forces that preserve the Capitalist system would never allow such a radical and groundbreaking departure from the current modus operandum.
Ah well a man can dream....
27/07/05 Kerching!
My winning streak continued with bets on Celtic and Newcastle Utd NOT winning their respective European ties.
I felt a bit sorry for wee Gordon Strachan though. What a disastrous debut.
I'd have loved to see him make a joke about it, but as we all know diehard Old Firm supporters and senses of humour are mutually exclusive entitities.
If he doesn't win against Motherwell on Saturday, the writing will be on the wall. And the writing won't be saying "We all think you're great signed The Celtic fans"
...no, it'll be much ruder and not such a nice sentiment.
Tough job being an Old Firm manager though.
It's like getting a job as a barman, dropping a glass on your first night, and having thousands of people shout at you and demand that you be immediately sacked for gross incompetence.
I have to sadly confess that I have been sucked into watching Big Brother again. It's a desperate state of affairs.
I've just developed a fascination for the loathesome twat known as Craig.
He has consistently produced some of the most outstanding moments of car crash TV in the last couple of weeks.
There is something uniquely irresistible about watching someone gradually experience a nervous breakdown on national TV. It's the latter day equivalent of public executions, with the viewers enjoying the knowledge that they may have their own specific problems in life, but at least they aren't Craig.
He is going to get the piss taken out of them so relentlessly when he emerges from the house and faces the great British public.
I felt a bit sorry for wee Gordon Strachan though. What a disastrous debut.
I'd have loved to see him make a joke about it, but as we all know diehard Old Firm supporters and senses of humour are mutually exclusive entitities.
If he doesn't win against Motherwell on Saturday, the writing will be on the wall. And the writing won't be saying "We all think you're great signed The Celtic fans"
...no, it'll be much ruder and not such a nice sentiment.
Tough job being an Old Firm manager though.
It's like getting a job as a barman, dropping a glass on your first night, and having thousands of people shout at you and demand that you be immediately sacked for gross incompetence.
I have to sadly confess that I have been sucked into watching Big Brother again. It's a desperate state of affairs.
I've just developed a fascination for the loathesome twat known as Craig.
He has consistently produced some of the most outstanding moments of car crash TV in the last couple of weeks.
There is something uniquely irresistible about watching someone gradually experience a nervous breakdown on national TV. It's the latter day equivalent of public executions, with the viewers enjoying the knowledge that they may have their own specific problems in life, but at least they aren't Craig.
He is going to get the piss taken out of them so relentlessly when he emerges from the house and faces the great British public.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
26/07/05 You're Once...Twice...Five Pints An IPA
The title of this blog entry is supposed to meter like Lionel Ritchie and his Lady 1-2-3 thing.
I'm confident that it's the worst blog title I've ever thought up.
It makes an allusion to the regrettable fact that I ended up having 5 pints of IPA with old sea dog Tommy at Bennet's on a Monday night.
Why oh why .....oh why do birds suddenly appear every time I am near?
Because just like me, they love to drink 5 pints of IPA on a Monday night. D'oh.
Today at work was very unproductive on account of this merry outing on a Monday night.
I felt too rough to cycle to work as well. Shoddy. Shoddy. Shoddy.
I did walk home though. Impressive.
Heard today that cheery happy-go-lucky optimist Dickie Arnott is set to attend the opening night of "Park's Circus". Bless.
It'll be a great honour to perform to him as he has been so supportive and encouraging towards my stand-up career.
Through the tough times when confidence had dipped, Dickie was always there with words of encouragement and praise to help me get back on stage and become the accomplished journeyman comedian I am today.
He's an uncomplaining type, and is a great source of inspiration to all who know him.
I often get accused quite rightly of being a sarcastic git. Ha Ha.
I'm confident that it's the worst blog title I've ever thought up.
It makes an allusion to the regrettable fact that I ended up having 5 pints of IPA with old sea dog Tommy at Bennet's on a Monday night.
Why oh why .....oh why do birds suddenly appear every time I am near?
Because just like me, they love to drink 5 pints of IPA on a Monday night. D'oh.
Today at work was very unproductive on account of this merry outing on a Monday night.
I felt too rough to cycle to work as well. Shoddy. Shoddy. Shoddy.
I did walk home though. Impressive.
Heard today that cheery happy-go-lucky optimist Dickie Arnott is set to attend the opening night of "Park's Circus". Bless.
It'll be a great honour to perform to him as he has been so supportive and encouraging towards my stand-up career.
Through the tough times when confidence had dipped, Dickie was always there with words of encouragement and praise to help me get back on stage and become the accomplished journeyman comedian I am today.
He's an uncomplaining type, and is a great source of inspiration to all who know him.
I often get accused quite rightly of being a sarcastic git. Ha Ha.
25/07/05 IPA With Sea Dog
On Monday night, against my better judgement, I found myself in Bennet's Bar with old sea salt Tommy Hamilton, back on dry land.
He told me exciting tales of his exotic journeys patrolling the Thames Estuary on his boat. Tales of far off lands, dusky mysterious women and buried treasure were sadly not in evidence.
He is also renowned as a "Grand Prix" enthusiast. (to the uninitiated, that's Formula 1 car racing, rather than a risque male nightclub act).
Being something of a chain smoker, Tommy presented my non-smoking regime with a stern examination of my willpower, which I'm happy to divulge that I passed.
My brother Gavin was also in attendance, and miraculously I was occasionally able to get a word in edgeways. (ooohh hark at her!)
Gavin has the slightly irritating habit of interrupting my amusing anecdotes half-way through and carrying on with them himself, leaving me silently fuming with a world weary expression on my face.
One of the benefits of doing stand-up, is that I get to finish the stories myself, because I've GOT THE MICROPHONE, OK???
I shudder to think what it would be like if Gavin ever developed the technology to have his own permanent built-in microphone.
Nobody would ever be able to finish a sentence within a 2 mile radius of him.
It would be a recipe for disaster and civil unrest.
He told me exciting tales of his exotic journeys patrolling the Thames Estuary on his boat. Tales of far off lands, dusky mysterious women and buried treasure were sadly not in evidence.
He is also renowned as a "Grand Prix" enthusiast. (to the uninitiated, that's Formula 1 car racing, rather than a risque male nightclub act).
Being something of a chain smoker, Tommy presented my non-smoking regime with a stern examination of my willpower, which I'm happy to divulge that I passed.
My brother Gavin was also in attendance, and miraculously I was occasionally able to get a word in edgeways. (ooohh hark at her!)
Gavin has the slightly irritating habit of interrupting my amusing anecdotes half-way through and carrying on with them himself, leaving me silently fuming with a world weary expression on my face.
One of the benefits of doing stand-up, is that I get to finish the stories myself, because I've GOT THE MICROPHONE, OK???
I shudder to think what it would be like if Gavin ever developed the technology to have his own permanent built-in microphone.
Nobody would ever be able to finish a sentence within a 2 mile radius of him.
It would be a recipe for disaster and civil unrest.
24/07/05 Procrastination Time!
Well Sunday had been set aside as a day to re-work material for the Fringe show.
But of course very little was done.
I desperately delayed starting working by suddenly deciding to tidy up the garden for a bit instead, re-arrange the furniture in various rooms, read the Sunday papers, played the congas, made up some compilation CDs etc etc before eventually sitting down at 8pm doodling on a blank piece of paper.
Never mind. I'll do it all next weekend. that's it. The last chance saloon.
It's very pleasing that the recent spell of fine, warm weather has ended to coincide with my return to wage slavery. Quite right. I hate the thought of slackers enjoying themselves in the sun while I keep UK plc afloat.
They should get a job. Haven't they got anything better to do than lounge around all day writing self-indulgent Internet diaries, playing golf and lazing about in the sun?
Bring back National Service. that's what I say.
I hate to see people not realising their full potential.
Although, as Dylan Moran, says "Your potential? Leave it alone. It's like your bank balance. There's always less in it than you think there is..."
I'd forgotten what that "It's-Sunday-night-oh-shit-I've-got-work-tomorrow-feeling" was like. I don't like it much. Bah!
But of course very little was done.
I desperately delayed starting working by suddenly deciding to tidy up the garden for a bit instead, re-arrange the furniture in various rooms, read the Sunday papers, played the congas, made up some compilation CDs etc etc before eventually sitting down at 8pm doodling on a blank piece of paper.
Never mind. I'll do it all next weekend. that's it. The last chance saloon.
It's very pleasing that the recent spell of fine, warm weather has ended to coincide with my return to wage slavery. Quite right. I hate the thought of slackers enjoying themselves in the sun while I keep UK plc afloat.
They should get a job. Haven't they got anything better to do than lounge around all day writing self-indulgent Internet diaries, playing golf and lazing about in the sun?
Bring back National Service. that's what I say.
I hate to see people not realising their full potential.
Although, as Dylan Moran, says "Your potential? Leave it alone. It's like your bank balance. There's always less in it than you think there is..."
I'd forgotten what that "It's-Sunday-night-oh-shit-I've-got-work-tomorrow-feeling" was like. I don't like it much. Bah!
Sunday, July 24, 2005
23/07/05 Ashes To Ashes
Well, my Ashes bet on Australia is looking good. And coming on top of my Tiger Woods and Wimbledon scoops, why did I go back to work?
You fool...!
I had to cancel my trip to Spain with the Samba crew because of work commitments.
What a bummer...!
Anyway, my next tip for you to enrich yourself is to take a punt on Graeme Souness NOT being the manager of Newcastle United at the end of the upcoming season.
You can get 4/5 odds on www.bet365.com.
I'm putting £200 on it.
Hopefully I'll pick up my winnings this side of Xmas.
"Souey Gets The Chop!" The Sun, 17/12/05
You fool...!
I had to cancel my trip to Spain with the Samba crew because of work commitments.
What a bummer...!
Anyway, my next tip for you to enrich yourself is to take a punt on Graeme Souness NOT being the manager of Newcastle United at the end of the upcoming season.
You can get 4/5 odds on www.bet365.com.
I'm putting £200 on it.
Hopefully I'll pick up my winnings this side of Xmas.
"Souey Gets The Chop!" The Sun, 17/12/05
22/07/05 More Nasty Awfulness
Another large dollop of attempted bombings, successful bombings and shootings. It's all very grim.
I suspect that most of my generation thought that with the end of the Cold War, and it's accompanying nuclear stand-off, that the world would end up a safer place. Fat fucking chance of that happening.
The world seems to be in an unprecedented state of dangerousness all of a sudden.
I suppose you could argue it has always been thus, and just because it has arrived on our doorstep, it has all come sharper into focus.
To make matters worse, I forgot to take the bin bags out last night, and now I have to keep them over the weekend till Sunday night.
Unbelieveable. How could I be so stupid and forgetful?
It is now also less than 2 weeks to the start of the Fringe show.
My sphincter is already beginning to pulsate like a geiger counter in Windscale.
Well, slight exageration. Not feeling too bad. The first couple of nights are going to be fairly chaotic though.
The three of us just haven't had enough chance to get together to structure a show properly, so it's going to be more of a straight stand-up show than we had originally envisaged.
However, we're hoping to develop ideas as the run progresses, and make the show slightly different from the common-or-garden Fringe stand-up show.
I suspect that most of my generation thought that with the end of the Cold War, and it's accompanying nuclear stand-off, that the world would end up a safer place. Fat fucking chance of that happening.
The world seems to be in an unprecedented state of dangerousness all of a sudden.
I suppose you could argue it has always been thus, and just because it has arrived on our doorstep, it has all come sharper into focus.
To make matters worse, I forgot to take the bin bags out last night, and now I have to keep them over the weekend till Sunday night.
Unbelieveable. How could I be so stupid and forgetful?
It is now also less than 2 weeks to the start of the Fringe show.
My sphincter is already beginning to pulsate like a geiger counter in Windscale.
Well, slight exageration. Not feeling too bad. The first couple of nights are going to be fairly chaotic though.
The three of us just haven't had enough chance to get together to structure a show properly, so it's going to be more of a straight stand-up show than we had originally envisaged.
However, we're hoping to develop ideas as the run progresses, and make the show slightly different from the common-or-garden Fringe stand-up show.
Friday, July 22, 2005
21/07/05 Well I never...!
Banana Holder ; The Triumph of Science
While working for "the man" today (day 4, 180 to go), I was somewhat intrigued to see my colleague opposite take out a "banana holder" from his bag.
This container is furnished in solid plastic and is designed to carry a banana ;ensuring that the tender, exotic fruit remains in an unsquashed condition.
This is a new phenomenum to me. I like to think I keep up with the times. I can use "predictive text" facilities on my mobile. In fact, I've been able to do this for AGES. I also made an arse of doing an elementary Sudoku today. I'm very "street" and with it, big time baby!
However, "banana holders" had slipped through the net.
It's fair to say this is a very specialised piece of equipment. It can only be used for a single banana. The banana in question must also have the correct curvature to fit the holder. Any forced manipulation of the banana would defeat the purpose of the thing.
I imagine this creation first appeared on the little "Innovations" catalogue which we all know and love.
I wondered if there are other products on the market for alternative soft fruit?
eg a grape holder? a plum holder? (oh there's one already...I think it's called a jock strap..! ho ho...clonk...as he falls off his seat laughing)...
I've been offered three 20 minute spots at "Nichol Edwards" on Aug 1st, 3rd & 4th.
This will be the first time I've done spots of that length. I've got enough material to cover it, just haven't done it all in one show.
In the stand-up world (as opposed to the sit-down one), getting to a 20 minute set is a pivotal moment in one's fledgling career.
I know there's going to be a bit of initial padding as I'm not used to this size of slot ; but once you've got a solid 20 mins you're confident with, you can actually make some decent cash, and get better bookings.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
20/07/05 "Festival of Jim" ends
I did the last night in my 5 day residency at "The Stand". Unfortunately the "Festival of Jim" ended with more of a wet fart than a stupendous fanfare.
It's very easy to blame the audience in situations like this. But just because it's easy doesn't mean that I shouldn't do it.
Let's face it, they were moribund. The comedy audience from hell. All 20 of them.
It wasn't a "death", I hasten to add. There was a respectable chuckle count. But chuckles just don't do it for me. I want big laughs. Otherwise the teddy is on a whistle-stop journey out of my pram.
Of course top comedians can make any audience laugh in any situation. But they are generally smart arse tossers, and who would want to be like that anyway. I mean, really. To be consistently brilliant and hilarious must get very tedious after a while.
I get the thrill of the uncertainty. It could be a night of triumph or it could be a ticket for the Titanic. If I keep repeating this often enough to myself, I'm hoping I will eventually believe it.
I popped up afterwards to see funny man Richard Pulsford at "Nichol Edwards" in Niddrie St. He triumphed in a new talent competition with an assured performance.
I've always really enjoyed his material, but his performance hasn't quite matched it.
Tonight he got them both right.
I snuck off into the night when I realised that the witching hour was approaching. I'd momentarily forgotten that I was back working for "the man" again.
Did you notice that when the stage winner of the Tour de France gets presented with his jersey, that it fastens round the back like a surgeons overall?
This is obviously designed to allow him to keep his sponsors hat on at all times throughout the process. Oh dear...oh dear...oh dear.
It's very easy to blame the audience in situations like this. But just because it's easy doesn't mean that I shouldn't do it.
Let's face it, they were moribund. The comedy audience from hell. All 20 of them.
It wasn't a "death", I hasten to add. There was a respectable chuckle count. But chuckles just don't do it for me. I want big laughs. Otherwise the teddy is on a whistle-stop journey out of my pram.
Of course top comedians can make any audience laugh in any situation. But they are generally smart arse tossers, and who would want to be like that anyway. I mean, really. To be consistently brilliant and hilarious must get very tedious after a while.
I get the thrill of the uncertainty. It could be a night of triumph or it could be a ticket for the Titanic. If I keep repeating this often enough to myself, I'm hoping I will eventually believe it.
I popped up afterwards to see funny man Richard Pulsford at "Nichol Edwards" in Niddrie St. He triumphed in a new talent competition with an assured performance.
I've always really enjoyed his material, but his performance hasn't quite matched it.
Tonight he got them both right.
I snuck off into the night when I realised that the witching hour was approaching. I'd momentarily forgotten that I was back working for "the man" again.
Did you notice that when the stage winner of the Tour de France gets presented with his jersey, that it fastens round the back like a surgeons overall?
This is obviously designed to allow him to keep his sponsors hat on at all times throughout the process. Oh dear...oh dear...oh dear.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
19/07/05 G8 Drama!
Jim shortly before his assault by the Police State
Shortly after this photograph was taken, I was diverted away from my chosen route to the "Southsider" hostelry, forcing me to take a detour which added well over 2 minutes onto my journey time.
Hopefully this photo will make people stop and think about things.
It's a sad day when a man in a straw hat has to deviate from his chosen pub access approach.
It's the thin end of the wedge.
This photograph was taken, at great personal risk to herself by famed pottery and ceramics expert Lorna Fraser.
It is through her courage and determination that this photo of what actually happened during the G8 demos has seen the light of day.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
18/07/05 Return To Stalag 13 (or "Jim Goes Back To Work")
Tying my tie (with the accompanying uncomfortable restriction of respiratory function), is the defining symbolic event encapsulating the cold, painful reality of going back to work.
I had a shit sleep as I was too preoccupied with having to desert my scratcher at the ungodly hour of 8am.
God had obviously tried to stop me returning to work as he had organised a Lothian Regional Transport bus strike to coincide with my reunion with the racing rats.
I took the opportunity to cycle to work. It was all downhill from there, both literally and metaphorically.
My boss knew who I was on account of my legendary exploits in the company "Sailing Club" 6 years ago.
The incident in question occurred at Largs Marina.
I'm not much of a sailor per se, but I signed up for a weekend of tootling round the Clyde in a 6 person berth sailing boat.
The plan was to meet in Largs Marina Bar on the Friday, have a few drinks (alert alert danger!), then spend the night on the boat, sailing away early in the morning, docking in Lamlash Bay on the Saturday night, then returning on the Sunday.
This was in November, I hasten to add.
Having had a number of pints of 80 shilling I followed the captain towards the boat. I was fully laden with a weighty rucksack and also carried a crate of 24 bottles of Becks for weekend consumption.
We stepped out onto the jetty in the darkness and walked along till we came alongside our boat. Then he turned right up a little jetty alongside the boat.
It was attached by brackets to the main jetty.
My first step was on the bracket, which unbeknownst to me narrowed towards the main walkway.
My next step was into fresh air and before I could react or even shout "Fuck!", I was 20 feet underwater carring a crate of beer with a rucksack on.
I quickly took the painful decision to let go of the beer and then began my struggle for survival. I managed to thrash my way to the surface, whereby the captain grabbed my arms and pulled me up to safety. (The beer is probably still there, if there are any treasure hunters amongst you).
I was quite relaxed about the whole thing at the time. However, dwelling on what might have happened if I'd hit my head off the side of the boat as I fell etc etc managed to freak me out slightly, later on.
I had the piss taken out of me by everyone else for the whole weekend.
But I had the last laugh, as all the other novice sailors were very, very ill with sea sickness on the Sunday...and I was fine. Ha Ha.
So that story has been circulating in the "Sailing Club" for 6 years now!
I suppose it's good to leave a legacy of achievement behind me.
Ah well, first day of work...not too bad really...
The time will soon pass, Papillon...
I had a shit sleep as I was too preoccupied with having to desert my scratcher at the ungodly hour of 8am.
God had obviously tried to stop me returning to work as he had organised a Lothian Regional Transport bus strike to coincide with my reunion with the racing rats.
I took the opportunity to cycle to work. It was all downhill from there, both literally and metaphorically.
My boss knew who I was on account of my legendary exploits in the company "Sailing Club" 6 years ago.
The incident in question occurred at Largs Marina.
I'm not much of a sailor per se, but I signed up for a weekend of tootling round the Clyde in a 6 person berth sailing boat.
The plan was to meet in Largs Marina Bar on the Friday, have a few drinks (alert alert danger!), then spend the night on the boat, sailing away early in the morning, docking in Lamlash Bay on the Saturday night, then returning on the Sunday.
This was in November, I hasten to add.
Having had a number of pints of 80 shilling I followed the captain towards the boat. I was fully laden with a weighty rucksack and also carried a crate of 24 bottles of Becks for weekend consumption.
We stepped out onto the jetty in the darkness and walked along till we came alongside our boat. Then he turned right up a little jetty alongside the boat.
It was attached by brackets to the main jetty.
My first step was on the bracket, which unbeknownst to me narrowed towards the main walkway.
My next step was into fresh air and before I could react or even shout "Fuck!", I was 20 feet underwater carring a crate of beer with a rucksack on.
I quickly took the painful decision to let go of the beer and then began my struggle for survival. I managed to thrash my way to the surface, whereby the captain grabbed my arms and pulled me up to safety. (The beer is probably still there, if there are any treasure hunters amongst you).
I was quite relaxed about the whole thing at the time. However, dwelling on what might have happened if I'd hit my head off the side of the boat as I fell etc etc managed to freak me out slightly, later on.
I had the piss taken out of me by everyone else for the whole weekend.
But I had the last laugh, as all the other novice sailors were very, very ill with sea sickness on the Sunday...and I was fine. Ha Ha.
So that story has been circulating in the "Sailing Club" for 6 years now!
I suppose it's good to leave a legacy of achievement behind me.
Ah well, first day of work...not too bad really...
The time will soon pass, Papillon...
17/07/05 Still Not Tickety Boo
My Friday night binge is beginning to look like the first ever authentic case of "a bad pint" in British Drinking History. It's the only explanation why I still feel utterly shite. In a way it's a kind of moral victory, as I probably didn't actually drink quite as much as I thought I did on Friday night, and that my anger at my lack of willpower may have been misplaced.
This is scant comfort though.
While peering at the TV watching Tiger Woods stroll to victory, I witness the astonishing sight of Dougie Donnelly, yes THE Dougie Donnelly, being mobbed by a large posse of autograph hunters at St Andrews.
The world has officially gone catastrophically mad.
Kids these days. I don't know....I really don't know.
What next? Anne Widdecombe headlining at "The Monsters of Rock" Festival at Castle Donington?
Nicholas Witchell doing a rap duet with Eminem?
Have kids lost the ability to differentiate between the irretrievably naff and the cool?
I worry for them.
Dougie must be on such a high after that!
If I'd been a kid and had seen Arthur Montford in real life, I'd have attempted an impersonation of his legendary deadpan commentating style, "It's a disaster for Scotland...", giggled, and run off.
I wouldn't have pestered him for an autograph.
I had a really nice gig at The Stand later on. It was a small audience, but I felt I'd won them over and was getting some fairly big tasty laughs.
Jane who co-runs The Stand watched my set and gave me an appraisal. It was mostly positive. I was pleased to get some feedback and she gave me a lot of sound advice.
I figured she wouldn't have bothered if she felt I was irredeemably crap.
All in all, a good night, somewhat tarnished by getting a bleeding parking ticket. Ona Sunday night at 9.30pm!!!! bastards...bastards..bastards...!
This is scant comfort though.
While peering at the TV watching Tiger Woods stroll to victory, I witness the astonishing sight of Dougie Donnelly, yes THE Dougie Donnelly, being mobbed by a large posse of autograph hunters at St Andrews.
The world has officially gone catastrophically mad.
Kids these days. I don't know....I really don't know.
What next? Anne Widdecombe headlining at "The Monsters of Rock" Festival at Castle Donington?
Nicholas Witchell doing a rap duet with Eminem?
Have kids lost the ability to differentiate between the irretrievably naff and the cool?
I worry for them.
Dougie must be on such a high after that!
If I'd been a kid and had seen Arthur Montford in real life, I'd have attempted an impersonation of his legendary deadpan commentating style, "It's a disaster for Scotland...", giggled, and run off.
I wouldn't have pestered him for an autograph.
I had a really nice gig at The Stand later on. It was a small audience, but I felt I'd won them over and was getting some fairly big tasty laughs.
Jane who co-runs The Stand watched my set and gave me an appraisal. It was mostly positive. I was pleased to get some feedback and she gave me a lot of sound advice.
I figured she wouldn't have bothered if she felt I was irredeemably crap.
All in all, a good night, somewhat tarnished by getting a bleeding parking ticket. Ona Sunday night at 9.30pm!!!! bastards...bastards..bastards...!
Sunday, July 17, 2005
16/07/05 Stupid Stupid Stupid
I awoke with a hellish hangover even by the standards of this previous experience.
I was due to play in a busk with the Samba crew at The Mound. I thought that might help to blow the cobwebs away and perk me up a little. It didn't.
I still felt grim as I made my way along to The Stand for the evening show. The Dance Brothers were in attendance. This would be their first witnessing of me doing my thing. I downed a couple of Irn Brus to try and fend off this increasingly horrible hangover. It hadn't eased up all day. To make matters worse I was full of self-loathing on account having smoked 3 cigarettes the previous night in the midst of my premium lager binge. Stupid twat.
The Saturday crowd was much better than the previous night. They were really responsive and generally much more up for it.
Bearing in mind how terrible I felt, I thought my spot went really well. The adrenaline had got me through, and my fears of hitting the front rows with a spray of projectile vomit were not realised, (thankfully).
We watched Greg McHugh before heading off. His material isn't the most brilliant I've ever heard, but his delivery, timing and general stagecraft are impeccable. He's also very good looking and a big hit with the laydeez. Bastard.
We headed off to The Pear Tree to catch up with nerdy Physics Lecturer Martin Evans, it being the occasion of the day before his 40th birthday, (he decided to celebrate on Saturday night).
As the adrenaline wore off, I started feeling really shit again. I started drinking a pint but failed to finish it, made my excuses and went home.
I couldn't believe how bad I felt. Straight to bed for Jimbo.
I was due to play in a busk with the Samba crew at The Mound. I thought that might help to blow the cobwebs away and perk me up a little. It didn't.
I still felt grim as I made my way along to The Stand for the evening show. The Dance Brothers were in attendance. This would be their first witnessing of me doing my thing. I downed a couple of Irn Brus to try and fend off this increasingly horrible hangover. It hadn't eased up all day. To make matters worse I was full of self-loathing on account having smoked 3 cigarettes the previous night in the midst of my premium lager binge. Stupid twat.
The Saturday crowd was much better than the previous night. They were really responsive and generally much more up for it.
Bearing in mind how terrible I felt, I thought my spot went really well. The adrenaline had got me through, and my fears of hitting the front rows with a spray of projectile vomit were not realised, (thankfully).
We watched Greg McHugh before heading off. His material isn't the most brilliant I've ever heard, but his delivery, timing and general stagecraft are impeccable. He's also very good looking and a big hit with the laydeez. Bastard.
We headed off to The Pear Tree to catch up with nerdy Physics Lecturer Martin Evans, it being the occasion of the day before his 40th birthday, (he decided to celebrate on Saturday night).
As the adrenaline wore off, I started feeling really shit again. I started drinking a pint but failed to finish it, made my excuses and went home.
I couldn't believe how bad I felt. Straight to bed for Jimbo.
15/07/05 Tiger Tiger
As Mr Woods powered to a 4 stroke advantage after day 2, I was able to lay off my bet on Betfair (ie offer very short odds to other punters betting on Woods winning the Open).
As a result if he wins I make £250 profit, and if he loses I still make £150 profit.
I've been given a IT contract. I start on Monday! Yikes, looks like I will be suffering from "post-traumatic stress disorder" for the next few days.
The Friday night at The Stand was ok. My performance was a lot better than the Thursday, but the audience were fairly unresponsive for a weekend crowd.
In fact, Jane the compere told me that it was the worst weekend crowd she had ever experienced, (she told the crowd this later on in the night. I think they thought she was only joking. She wasn't)
There was a large group of tossers who sat at the front, but then were real pains in the arse when the comedians tried to engage them with a bit of banter.
So why did they decide to sit right in front of the stage? Very strange.
I hadn't had my dinner before the show. This is quite usual for me. I prefer to eat afterwards. However, I skipped the eating tonight, and proceeded to down a series of pints of premium lager. Got fairly pissed and made the error of remarking to Jane the compere that I have an occasional game of golf with Jack McConnell.
I don't think I'll ever hear the end of this now. The damage is done.
Luckily, I didn't tell her that I had tears streaming down my cheeks watching Jack Nicklaus coming down the 18th at St Andrews, as he said goodbye to golf. It was emotional stuff.
As a result if he wins I make £250 profit, and if he loses I still make £150 profit.
I've been given a IT contract. I start on Monday! Yikes, looks like I will be suffering from "post-traumatic stress disorder" for the next few days.
The Friday night at The Stand was ok. My performance was a lot better than the Thursday, but the audience were fairly unresponsive for a weekend crowd.
In fact, Jane the compere told me that it was the worst weekend crowd she had ever experienced, (she told the crowd this later on in the night. I think they thought she was only joking. She wasn't)
There was a large group of tossers who sat at the front, but then were real pains in the arse when the comedians tried to engage them with a bit of banter.
So why did they decide to sit right in front of the stage? Very strange.
I hadn't had my dinner before the show. This is quite usual for me. I prefer to eat afterwards. However, I skipped the eating tonight, and proceeded to down a series of pints of premium lager. Got fairly pissed and made the error of remarking to Jane the compere that I have an occasional game of golf with Jack McConnell.
I don't think I'll ever hear the end of this now. The damage is done.
Luckily, I didn't tell her that I had tears streaming down my cheeks watching Jack Nicklaus coming down the 18th at St Andrews, as he said goodbye to golf. It was emotional stuff.
14/07/05 Festival Begins...
I had to smile as I watched Vijay Singh (see link for previous Vijay blog entry), tee off at The Open.
It was at St Andrews in 2000 that the famous Vijay Singh joke incident took place.
Mr Woods has started off impressively, so my bet looks a fairly good one so far.
I began my 4 night residency at The Stand. I've been more used to doing 10-15 minute spots of late and found it tricky deciding how to distill it down to a 5 minute slot.
(what I'll be doing Thursday,Friday,Saturday,Sunday at The Stand).
It went fairly well. I probably tried to include too much in the 5 minutes and garbled a lot of the material. It's tricky. When you start off in stand-up, 5 minutes can seem like an eternity. Now it just seems to be over in a flash and there's not much time to fool around outside of your prepared material.
After I'd finished I nipped up to "The Roxy" to see Cloudland Blue Quartet and James Jamieson (together at last) perform a selection of their songs, with 3 other acts on the bill. Vocally they sound very good together.
It was all very enjoyable. Pity there wasn't an audience as such. (I hilariously announced that I'd only been able to attend on account of snapping up a ticket on Ebay) It's a reconverted church up near The Pleasance, a great venue. Acoustically it sounded great.
One of David's friends asked me about the snail on my ceiling. It's funny when strangers quote back stuff from your Blog to you. Little does that snail know how famous he/she (or is there something about snails being male and female simultaneously?) has become, as a result of crawling up my wall onto my ceiling.
I expect he and she are encountering a lot of jealousy and petty sniping from other resident snails of my garden, as news of the snails sudden new found celebrity circulates amongst the local wildlife.
It was at St Andrews in 2000 that the famous Vijay Singh joke incident took place.
Mr Woods has started off impressively, so my bet looks a fairly good one so far.
I began my 4 night residency at The Stand. I've been more used to doing 10-15 minute spots of late and found it tricky deciding how to distill it down to a 5 minute slot.
(what I'll be doing Thursday,Friday,Saturday,Sunday at The Stand).
It went fairly well. I probably tried to include too much in the 5 minutes and garbled a lot of the material. It's tricky. When you start off in stand-up, 5 minutes can seem like an eternity. Now it just seems to be over in a flash and there's not much time to fool around outside of your prepared material.
After I'd finished I nipped up to "The Roxy" to see Cloudland Blue Quartet and James Jamieson (together at last) perform a selection of their songs, with 3 other acts on the bill. Vocally they sound very good together.
It was all very enjoyable. Pity there wasn't an audience as such. (I hilariously announced that I'd only been able to attend on account of snapping up a ticket on Ebay) It's a reconverted church up near The Pleasance, a great venue. Acoustically it sounded great.
One of David's friends asked me about the snail on my ceiling. It's funny when strangers quote back stuff from your Blog to you. Little does that snail know how famous he/she (or is there something about snails being male and female simultaneously?) has become, as a result of crawling up my wall onto my ceiling.
I expect he and she are encountering a lot of jealousy and petty sniping from other resident snails of my garden, as news of the snails sudden new found celebrity circulates amongst the local wildlife.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
13/07/05 With Snail Was I
I woke up today to see a snail on my ceiling. This isn't something you see every day. In fact I've never ever seen this phenomenum before. It's a first.
The day before I'd been transporting bags of garden refuse through the flat to take to the dump, (to be recycled I hasten to add...I'm green and all that).
I can only assume that I unwittingly dropped off the snail in my flat and it decided to go walkabout up the wall.
I removed it from the ceiling and lobbed it up the garden.
I later wondered whether there might be some symbolism attached to seeing a snail on your ceiling. I decided to go to the National Library to research the issue, and check if the appearance of the snail was some strange kind of metaphor.
You can't interpret these events too literally. Of course everyone knows that with Tarot cards, the "Death" card doesn't necessarily mean you're going to die. It can symbolise the end of an element of your life, such as a change of job, relationship etc
However, I was surprised to discover that my snail vision meant, according to ancient interpretation of pagan ritual, that a giant snail was likely to disrupt my act at The Stand comedy club during the upcoming "Festival of Jim".
This was very unsettling news which could destabilise my performance. I'm going to have to consider bringing a large container of Saxa salt to all my gigs to attempt to ward off this malign intrusion.
I played golf yesterday with Bill "Top Man" Wilson. It was a lovely evening bla bla just playing golf was a joy in itself bla bla bla seemed unimportant who won bla bla bla but it was me I won bla bla bla 6 and 4 bla bla bla
(assuming Darth Vadar voice) ; Is there NO-ONE in the entire GALAXY who can threaten my POWER and AUTHORITY on the Golf Course???
The day before I'd been transporting bags of garden refuse through the flat to take to the dump, (to be recycled I hasten to add...I'm green and all that).
I can only assume that I unwittingly dropped off the snail in my flat and it decided to go walkabout up the wall.
I removed it from the ceiling and lobbed it up the garden.
I later wondered whether there might be some symbolism attached to seeing a snail on your ceiling. I decided to go to the National Library to research the issue, and check if the appearance of the snail was some strange kind of metaphor.
You can't interpret these events too literally. Of course everyone knows that with Tarot cards, the "Death" card doesn't necessarily mean you're going to die. It can symbolise the end of an element of your life, such as a change of job, relationship etc
However, I was surprised to discover that my snail vision meant, according to ancient interpretation of pagan ritual, that a giant snail was likely to disrupt my act at The Stand comedy club during the upcoming "Festival of Jim".
This was very unsettling news which could destabilise my performance. I'm going to have to consider bringing a large container of Saxa salt to all my gigs to attempt to ward off this malign intrusion.
I played golf yesterday with Bill "Top Man" Wilson. It was a lovely evening bla bla just playing golf was a joy in itself bla bla bla seemed unimportant who won bla bla bla but it was me I won bla bla bla 6 and 4 bla bla bla
(assuming Darth Vadar voice) ; Is there NO-ONE in the entire GALAXY who can threaten my POWER and AUTHORITY on the Golf Course???
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
12/07/05 Bordering On The Ridiculous
Myself and nerdy Physics lecturer Martin Evans went for a walk in the Ettrick Hills near Selkirk in the Scottish Borders area.
I bought a book 5 years ago called "100 Walks Around Edinburgh". I thought it was about time I did at least one of them to avoid the purchase of the said book as being viewed as a complete fiasco.
I selected the walk we did because it was described as a "dramatic ridge walk". In the end it turned out to be as dramatic as an episode of "Last Of The Summer Wine". It was still very pleasant though, if a little dull. And it was another scorcheroonee of a day.
I got offered a gig at The Stand next Wednesday (20th July). This means that the "Festival of Jim" now extends to Thurs/Fri/Sat/Sun/Wed of the coming week live at The Stand in Edinburgh.
The bar staff will be well and truly sick of my set by the end of this run, as will the audience in all likelihood. I hope different people go to each night otherwise my act will turn into a Catholic Mass type event, with the punters wearily joining in with the punchlines (irony), and standing up and sitting down at the appropriate moments and shaking hands with the people next to them sort of thing.
I had a samba practice at night for the upcoming Spain trip. I played with my head up my ass. Not literally. That would have been quite an impressive feat of contortionism and might have deflected any other criticisms. No, I just kept making rather stupid mistakes. I will have to spend some quality time working on being slightly less crappy. Just like anything else really.
My drive down to the Borders was soured by a succession of locals who didn't wave at me when I stopped and waited patiently to let them pass before moving out to avoid a parked car on my side of the road.
I am a stickler for this waving ritual, and see it as one of the last remaining benchmarks of decency and a feeling of community in the inherent tetchiness of 21st Century life.
Once we stop this little wave ritual, it will be a steady descent into mayhem and aggression, and we will all be in a "Mad Max" movie, and people will be dropping snakes in our cars from weird home-made helicopter things.
Mark my words.
I bought a book 5 years ago called "100 Walks Around Edinburgh". I thought it was about time I did at least one of them to avoid the purchase of the said book as being viewed as a complete fiasco.
I selected the walk we did because it was described as a "dramatic ridge walk". In the end it turned out to be as dramatic as an episode of "Last Of The Summer Wine". It was still very pleasant though, if a little dull. And it was another scorcheroonee of a day.
I got offered a gig at The Stand next Wednesday (20th July). This means that the "Festival of Jim" now extends to Thurs/Fri/Sat/Sun/Wed of the coming week live at The Stand in Edinburgh.
The bar staff will be well and truly sick of my set by the end of this run, as will the audience in all likelihood. I hope different people go to each night otherwise my act will turn into a Catholic Mass type event, with the punters wearily joining in with the punchlines (irony), and standing up and sitting down at the appropriate moments and shaking hands with the people next to them sort of thing.
I had a samba practice at night for the upcoming Spain trip. I played with my head up my ass. Not literally. That would have been quite an impressive feat of contortionism and might have deflected any other criticisms. No, I just kept making rather stupid mistakes. I will have to spend some quality time working on being slightly less crappy. Just like anything else really.
My drive down to the Borders was soured by a succession of locals who didn't wave at me when I stopped and waited patiently to let them pass before moving out to avoid a parked car on my side of the road.
I am a stickler for this waving ritual, and see it as one of the last remaining benchmarks of decency and a feeling of community in the inherent tetchiness of 21st Century life.
Once we stop this little wave ritual, it will be a steady descent into mayhem and aggression, and we will all be in a "Mad Max" movie, and people will be dropping snakes in our cars from weird home-made helicopter things.
Mark my words.
Monday, July 11, 2005
11/07/05 Possible Job Shocker!
I found out today that I have a better than evens chance of getting an IT Contract in Edinburgh.
The problem is that I can't afford not to take it, bearing in mind that I'll be getting hit by a giant tax bill at the end of the month, and will also have to pay at least £20 000 when this hugely enjoyable communal building repair is (eventually) finished.
It would have been much better if the job could have come along in September though. Working and doing a Fringe show is going to be hard work, and my late night debauchery possibilities will disappear! damn damn damn.
Ain't life a bitch!
I can maybe take some time off, but employers are never particularly impressed when you start hassling for holidays as soon as you're in the door.
I had a feeling this might happen. Ah well never mind. It could be worse. It could be raining!
Think positively man! At least I'll be able to hassle my co-workers to come and see the show.
The problem is that I can't afford not to take it, bearing in mind that I'll be getting hit by a giant tax bill at the end of the month, and will also have to pay at least £20 000 when this hugely enjoyable communal building repair is (eventually) finished.
It would have been much better if the job could have come along in September though. Working and doing a Fringe show is going to be hard work, and my late night debauchery possibilities will disappear! damn damn damn.
Ain't life a bitch!
I can maybe take some time off, but employers are never particularly impressed when you start hassling for holidays as soon as you're in the door.
I had a feeling this might happen. Ah well never mind. It could be worse. It could be raining!
Think positively man! At least I'll be able to hassle my co-workers to come and see the show.
10/07/05 "Festival of Jim"
This week there is a "Festival of Jim" at The Stand in Edinburgh. I will be appearing there on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday night.
Apparently, there are other comedians on as well. And for some unspecified reason, most of them are doing longer spots than me. However, I am the only one who is on every day! Hurray!
It's nice to get my first weekend gigs at The Stand. It represents progress.
I'm looking forward to it.
Jeez it's so hot.
After a tour of duty hacking about in the old garden, I made the natural decision of any self-respecting Scot on a hot summers day, and retired to a beer garden.
The Pear Tree was selected as the "hostelry du jour".
I cycled up, narrowly avoiding death on 2 occasions. I cycled back, narrowly avoiding death on 3 occasions.
Cycling in the west end of Edinburgh is a dangerous sport.
I still do it though. It's a Pamplona "Running of the Bulls" type experience. Sometimes you need a sense of danger in your life. (What a load of bollocks, I know...and so, so pretentious....tell meabout it!)
I re-invested £100 of my Wimbledon booty on Tiger Woods to win The Open at 4/1, and £100 on Australia to win the Ashes.
In terms of design, St Andrews is the ideal course for TW. It doesn't tend to throw up flukey unknown champions like last years' winner (I can't even remember his name).
So that's my tips for you.
Apparently, there are other comedians on as well. And for some unspecified reason, most of them are doing longer spots than me. However, I am the only one who is on every day! Hurray!
It's nice to get my first weekend gigs at The Stand. It represents progress.
I'm looking forward to it.
Jeez it's so hot.
After a tour of duty hacking about in the old garden, I made the natural decision of any self-respecting Scot on a hot summers day, and retired to a beer garden.
The Pear Tree was selected as the "hostelry du jour".
I cycled up, narrowly avoiding death on 2 occasions. I cycled back, narrowly avoiding death on 3 occasions.
Cycling in the west end of Edinburgh is a dangerous sport.
I still do it though. It's a Pamplona "Running of the Bulls" type experience. Sometimes you need a sense of danger in your life. (What a load of bollocks, I know...and so, so pretentious....tell meabout it!)
I re-invested £100 of my Wimbledon booty on Tiger Woods to win The Open at 4/1, and £100 on Australia to win the Ashes.
In terms of design, St Andrews is the ideal course for TW. It doesn't tend to throw up flukey unknown champions like last years' winner (I can't even remember his name).
So that's my tips for you.
09/07/05 A Magnificent Gesture
I've always quite liked "The Magnificent Seven" film. It's a classic boy's own adventure piece.
However, there was a part of the plot that spoiled things a lot for me, on account of my pedantic leanings, and inability to suspend disbelief for the purposes of some cinematic hokum.
There comes a point when the Villagers betray the M7 (that's "The Magnificent Seven" not a UK Motorway, in case there's any confusion there) to the bandits, and the M7 find themselves under House Arrest.
Now any self-respecting Mexican Bandit in this situation would deliberate long and hard over a suitably grisly end to inflict on the M7, particularly since a lot of their mates have already shuffled off this mortal coil on account of the impressively high standard of the M7's "fancy shootin'" in earlier skirmishes.
They'd normally be either shot on the spot, be dragged around tied to a horse until dead, or perhaps hung upside down from a tree, with molasses spread all over their head. This would be done near an ants nest (of an appropriately aggressive species of ant), and a horrible fate would ensue.
So what did they do?
Yes that's right. They let them go. And the next day the M7 returned and killed all the bandits, although they did lose a few of their own number and became the M3 (that's "The Magnificent Three", not a UK motorway, in case there is any confusion there)
I had my own moment of this "poor decision making syndrome" today.
I captured a group of gunmen who had been hired as mercenaries by my neighbours to drive me out of Coates Gardens. I also let them go. Will I live to regret this generous gesture? Will I live to regret writing this terrible Blog entry?
Probably.
However, there was a part of the plot that spoiled things a lot for me, on account of my pedantic leanings, and inability to suspend disbelief for the purposes of some cinematic hokum.
There comes a point when the Villagers betray the M7 (that's "The Magnificent Seven" not a UK Motorway, in case there's any confusion there) to the bandits, and the M7 find themselves under House Arrest.
Now any self-respecting Mexican Bandit in this situation would deliberate long and hard over a suitably grisly end to inflict on the M7, particularly since a lot of their mates have already shuffled off this mortal coil on account of the impressively high standard of the M7's "fancy shootin'" in earlier skirmishes.
They'd normally be either shot on the spot, be dragged around tied to a horse until dead, or perhaps hung upside down from a tree, with molasses spread all over their head. This would be done near an ants nest (of an appropriately aggressive species of ant), and a horrible fate would ensue.
So what did they do?
Yes that's right. They let them go. And the next day the M7 returned and killed all the bandits, although they did lose a few of their own number and became the M3 (that's "The Magnificent Three", not a UK motorway, in case there is any confusion there)
I had my own moment of this "poor decision making syndrome" today.
I captured a group of gunmen who had been hired as mercenaries by my neighbours to drive me out of Coates Gardens. I also let them go. Will I live to regret this generous gesture? Will I live to regret writing this terrible Blog entry?
Probably.
08/07/05 I Know It's Only Global Warming But I Like It!
Scotland has hilariously decided to do an impression of Saudi Arabia, and has gone all hot.
This was not the best day for Mark Dance to select Lothianburn as a golf course for him, myself and Scott "Eyebrows-R-Us" Wilkins to play on.
It's not so much a round of golf, more a Himalayan Expedition with a few golf shots thrown in to vary things a bit. (ok, ok I know that there has been too much golf in this here Blog of late. I'll scale it down. Honest.)
I can't even establish who won. We all played utter shit, and Scott had to leave at the 16th on account of a terrible attack of Fever of the Hay variety.
Mark sprayed his drives liberally around the Pentlands area with the accuracy of a 15th Century blunderbuss.
My worst shot of the round saw a vicious slice racing into the car park at Hillend Ski Centre.
I bought an Evening News later on to check that no-one had been killed at Hillend. Phew.
Later on, I told the simple, happy people of the Edinburgh Samba School that I'd decided to go on the Spain jaunt. They all cheered and punched the air and danced with wild abandon and joy at this wonderful news.
Well, no actually they didn't do any of these things.
I'm worried now. Are they going to "wack" me in Spain for leaving it so late to swear allegiance to the Samba Gods, and commit to the trip???
This was not the best day for Mark Dance to select Lothianburn as a golf course for him, myself and Scott "Eyebrows-R-Us" Wilkins to play on.
It's not so much a round of golf, more a Himalayan Expedition with a few golf shots thrown in to vary things a bit. (ok, ok I know that there has been too much golf in this here Blog of late. I'll scale it down. Honest.)
I can't even establish who won. We all played utter shit, and Scott had to leave at the 16th on account of a terrible attack of Fever of the Hay variety.
Mark sprayed his drives liberally around the Pentlands area with the accuracy of a 15th Century blunderbuss.
My worst shot of the round saw a vicious slice racing into the car park at Hillend Ski Centre.
I bought an Evening News later on to check that no-one had been killed at Hillend. Phew.
Later on, I told the simple, happy people of the Edinburgh Samba School that I'd decided to go on the Spain jaunt. They all cheered and punched the air and danced with wild abandon and joy at this wonderful news.
Well, no actually they didn't do any of these things.
I'm worried now. Are they going to "wack" me in Spain for leaving it so late to swear allegiance to the Samba Gods, and commit to the trip???
Saturday, July 09, 2005
07/07/05 How Depressing
I wasn't shocked by the bombings in London. I'd been expecting this to happen at some point. I was convinced that something would happen during the last General Election campaign, but in the end they decided to sabotage Blair's hosting of the G8 summit instead.
Anyway, it wasn't a shock, but it was still numbing and altogether a depressing experience watching events unfold on TV.
So cruel coming the day after the euphoria generated by London's successful Olympic bid, and the guarded optimism that for once a G8 summit would result in some groundbreaking global agreements on Poverty, Debt & fair trade.
We British have our failings, but I was enormously moved by the classic "stiff upper lip" mentality displayed by Londoners who vowed to carry on and not be cowed into changing their day-to-day routines as a result of the actions of these vicious bastards.
In other contexts this classic British character trait can be repressive, but for this situation it's the ideal reply to the terrorists.
I had a gig scheduled for the same evening. I initially tried to get out of it as I felt it was the last thing I wanted to do.
However, I ended up doing it and had a really storming set. Fantastic reaction in a real bear pit. Very weird. Just before going on, I was so not up for it, but after a couple of minutes I was loving it and was glad I decided to perform. I guess that's just the human condition. Life goes on.
Anyway, it wasn't a shock, but it was still numbing and altogether a depressing experience watching events unfold on TV.
So cruel coming the day after the euphoria generated by London's successful Olympic bid, and the guarded optimism that for once a G8 summit would result in some groundbreaking global agreements on Poverty, Debt & fair trade.
We British have our failings, but I was enormously moved by the classic "stiff upper lip" mentality displayed by Londoners who vowed to carry on and not be cowed into changing their day-to-day routines as a result of the actions of these vicious bastards.
In other contexts this classic British character trait can be repressive, but for this situation it's the ideal reply to the terrorists.
I had a gig scheduled for the same evening. I initially tried to get out of it as I felt it was the last thing I wanted to do.
However, I ended up doing it and had a really storming set. Fantastic reaction in a real bear pit. Very weird. Just before going on, I was so not up for it, but after a couple of minutes I was loving it and was glad I decided to perform. I guess that's just the human condition. Life goes on.
Friday, July 08, 2005
06/07/05 St Bob
As I strode down Coates Gardens heading towards my local store to purchase a pint of cow juice, Bob Geldof suddenly appeared getting off a bus.
I would have loved to report that I said something witty to him, prompting him to smile and give me a couple of high 5s before heading off...
Unfortunately, I was so surprised to see him, I just gawped, and before I knew it he was surrounded by a media scrum shouting questions at him.
Then a massive squadron of buses appeared and loads of people who'd bussed it up from down south alighted onto the streets of Edinburgh.
They were all kids about 17-18ish and seemed very good natured and excited about arriving for the Live8 doo-dah.
At night I had a game of golf with Mr Colin Crabbie and Mr Mark Dance upon the hallowed turf of Dalmeny Golf Course. After a fairly sodden day it turned into a beautiful sunny evening. There was not a breath of wind and the River Forth glinted in the sunlight.
On such an idyllic evening, it seemed unimportant who actually won the match, as it was really just all about the pleasure of taking part. But it was me. I won. Fairly comprehensively. No triumphalism from me though. That would be wrong (again).
Back home in time to marvel at a 76 year old dancing about onstage with a couple of bikini clad stunnas!
No, it wasn't David Bann, it was James Brown of course...!
I would have loved to report that I said something witty to him, prompting him to smile and give me a couple of high 5s before heading off...
Unfortunately, I was so surprised to see him, I just gawped, and before I knew it he was surrounded by a media scrum shouting questions at him.
Then a massive squadron of buses appeared and loads of people who'd bussed it up from down south alighted onto the streets of Edinburgh.
They were all kids about 17-18ish and seemed very good natured and excited about arriving for the Live8 doo-dah.
At night I had a game of golf with Mr Colin Crabbie and Mr Mark Dance upon the hallowed turf of Dalmeny Golf Course. After a fairly sodden day it turned into a beautiful sunny evening. There was not a breath of wind and the River Forth glinted in the sunlight.
On such an idyllic evening, it seemed unimportant who actually won the match, as it was really just all about the pleasure of taking part. But it was me. I won. Fairly comprehensively. No triumphalism from me though. That would be wrong (again).
Back home in time to marvel at a 76 year old dancing about onstage with a couple of bikini clad stunnas!
No, it wasn't David Bann, it was James Brown of course...!
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
05/07/05 So You Think You're Funny? Well, I don't know really...
I had a phone call from a lady at the BBC requesting that I enter the BBC New Talent Comedy Competition. Apparently, I'd been recommended by the "So You Think You're Funny" competition organisers.
I was going to enter the BBC thing anyway, but was having difficulties transferring a digital recording of my live set onto a CD, (has to be part of your entry).
My immediate thought was that it was quite flattering to be singled out and actually asked to enter. However, is this reaction on a par with expressing delight at receiving notification that you are to be congratulated on winning a "Readers Digest" prize draw?
I don't know how many other people were asked.
I also initially assumed this meant I was likely to have made it into the final stages of the SYTYF competition, (held during this years' Fringe)
This surprised me as it was not one of my best nights in the Glasgow heat. Not by a long way. Some audiences love weird, leftfield stuff. That one didn't.
Of course, they may be trying to soothe my disappointment in advance at not qualifying by bolstering my fragile little ego with a BBC invitation.
Who knows?
We're supposed to hear about the SYTYF finalists this week.
You can see how this business screws you up psychologically can't you?
Anyway, I've decided to go to Spain at the end of the month and join the samba faithful who are playing at a festival in the town of Mataro (nr Barcelona).
Should be a hoot and a half.
I was going to enter the BBC thing anyway, but was having difficulties transferring a digital recording of my live set onto a CD, (has to be part of your entry).
My immediate thought was that it was quite flattering to be singled out and actually asked to enter. However, is this reaction on a par with expressing delight at receiving notification that you are to be congratulated on winning a "Readers Digest" prize draw?
I don't know how many other people were asked.
I also initially assumed this meant I was likely to have made it into the final stages of the SYTYF competition, (held during this years' Fringe)
This surprised me as it was not one of my best nights in the Glasgow heat. Not by a long way. Some audiences love weird, leftfield stuff. That one didn't.
Of course, they may be trying to soothe my disappointment in advance at not qualifying by bolstering my fragile little ego with a BBC invitation.
Who knows?
We're supposed to hear about the SYTYF finalists this week.
You can see how this business screws you up psychologically can't you?
Anyway, I've decided to go to Spain at the end of the month and join the samba faithful who are playing at a festival in the town of Mataro (nr Barcelona).
Should be a hoot and a half.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
04/07/06 The G8 Escape
Unable to resist my base voyeuristic instincts, I headed along to Shandwick Place to witness the "Cavalcade Of Full Enjoyment".
This had been widely tipped as the most likely initial G8 flashpoint as the organisers had stubbornly resisted invitations from the police to discuss what they were actually going to do.
There were helicopters overhead, mounted police, hundreds of cops, and hundreds of media types...cameras and microphones everywhere.
About 40 drummers, dressed in pink, then marched up Shandwick Place, surrounded by the press and police, playing a spectacularly awful version of "Samba Reggae", (says Jim donning his smart samba anorak).
There was nothing much going on, so I got bored and went home again.
I had a really good gig at "The Stand" later on. Felt very loose and relaxed. My G8 opening gag bombed, but I got a big laugh when I explained "that joke was delivered as part of the "Make Comedy History" campaign". Ho Ho. The rest of the set went well.
Paul Sneddon (aka "Vladimir McTavish") made me snort with laughter earlier on at the bar. He showed my a photo he'd taken of the Anti-Capitalist demonstrators in Princes St. There was a big group of them looking fairly intimidating with their faces masked, carrying banners and taking aggressive poses.
However clearly visible in the midst of this melee was the iconic "Golf Sale" banner. Priceless.
This had been widely tipped as the most likely initial G8 flashpoint as the organisers had stubbornly resisted invitations from the police to discuss what they were actually going to do.
There were helicopters overhead, mounted police, hundreds of cops, and hundreds of media types...cameras and microphones everywhere.
About 40 drummers, dressed in pink, then marched up Shandwick Place, surrounded by the press and police, playing a spectacularly awful version of "Samba Reggae", (says Jim donning his smart samba anorak).
There was nothing much going on, so I got bored and went home again.
I had a really good gig at "The Stand" later on. Felt very loose and relaxed. My G8 opening gag bombed, but I got a big laugh when I explained "that joke was delivered as part of the "Make Comedy History" campaign". Ho Ho. The rest of the set went well.
Paul Sneddon (aka "Vladimir McTavish") made me snort with laughter earlier on at the bar. He showed my a photo he'd taken of the Anti-Capitalist demonstrators in Princes St. There was a big group of them looking fairly intimidating with their faces masked, carrying banners and taking aggressive poses.
However clearly visible in the midst of this melee was the iconic "Golf Sale" banner. Priceless.
Monday, July 04, 2005
03/07/05 Make Hangovers History
...is what I should aspire to really...!
Looking into my crystal ball I see a month with very little alcohol disappearing down my throat. It's time for a de-tox.
One of the side effects of quitting smoking is a discernible cranking up of the normal rate of alcohol consumption.
I had a godawful headache this morning.
I managed to watch some of the tennis final. Roger Federer is the man. He's good to watch though, and something of an artist on court. Nice to see flair and artistry triumph over brute force, (eg Greg Rusedski)
I have to admit to being slightly shocked at the trophy presentation.
Ever since I can remember, the Duke and Duchess of York have entered the court area and them moved slowly down 2 rows of ballboys and ballgirls, engaging roughly every 3rd or 4th person in the column in some airy banter before moving on to the next "victim".
I was always intrigued as to what they spoke about.
"My you're a tall young man!", "Is this the first time you've done this?", "Have you any amusing "ballboy" anecdotes?", "Where are you from then?"
This procedure genrally lasted a couple of minutes, as the players shuffled about, anxious to get the ceremonials over with so they could bugger off.
However this year, the Duke of Kent, on his own (I think the Duchess is ill), just strode past all the ballpeople and never said a dickybird to anyone.
The ballpeople must have been devastated. They thought they were on a 4/1 shot to chat with Royalty and be seen doing it on live TV.
I can only draw the conclusion, that it was the Duchess of Kent who historically insisted on this corny little ritual taking place. Her husband obviously thought the whole idea was a complete waste of time, and seized the opportunity of her illness to drive a coach and horses through the whole concept of ballpeople interaction.
This is a sad day for ballpeople.
We may not have had a British men's champion for 362 years, but at least our Royals always delighted the public by selflessly chatting to ballpeople.
Not any more.
It's over.
Looking into my crystal ball I see a month with very little alcohol disappearing down my throat. It's time for a de-tox.
One of the side effects of quitting smoking is a discernible cranking up of the normal rate of alcohol consumption.
I had a godawful headache this morning.
I managed to watch some of the tennis final. Roger Federer is the man. He's good to watch though, and something of an artist on court. Nice to see flair and artistry triumph over brute force, (eg Greg Rusedski)
I have to admit to being slightly shocked at the trophy presentation.
Ever since I can remember, the Duke and Duchess of York have entered the court area and them moved slowly down 2 rows of ballboys and ballgirls, engaging roughly every 3rd or 4th person in the column in some airy banter before moving on to the next "victim".
I was always intrigued as to what they spoke about.
"My you're a tall young man!", "Is this the first time you've done this?", "Have you any amusing "ballboy" anecdotes?", "Where are you from then?"
This procedure genrally lasted a couple of minutes, as the players shuffled about, anxious to get the ceremonials over with so they could bugger off.
However this year, the Duke of Kent, on his own (I think the Duchess is ill), just strode past all the ballpeople and never said a dickybird to anyone.
The ballpeople must have been devastated. They thought they were on a 4/1 shot to chat with Royalty and be seen doing it on live TV.
I can only draw the conclusion, that it was the Duchess of Kent who historically insisted on this corny little ritual taking place. Her husband obviously thought the whole idea was a complete waste of time, and seized the opportunity of her illness to drive a coach and horses through the whole concept of ballpeople interaction.
This is a sad day for ballpeople.
We may not have had a British men's champion for 362 years, but at least our Royals always delighted the public by selflessly chatting to ballpeople.
Not any more.
It's over.
02/07/05 Make Poverty History
I took part in the march and played with the Samba band. And very enjoyable it was too.
I get bored shitless with the bad mouthing of all these events by know-it-all arseholes. As far as I'm concerned, ar least 300 000 people (probably more, even though the official figure was 225 000) decided to show a bit of solidarity for an idea to help eradicate the global blight of poverty, and went for a walk round Edinburgh.
Yes, a lot of Africa's problems are self-inflicted and any debt removal has to be tied to conditions to prevent corrupt leaders diverting funds. Yes, a lot of the key components of this measure are already agreed.
So what was the point of demonstrating?
Well, it was just an affirmation that a lot of people felt a need to demonstrate their support for such measures, and push for more similar action on the bigger global scheme of things.
There was no big Rock Concert involved, so please spare us the tired old arguments about people just wanting to go to a party and feel pious about it all.
People of all ages and backgrounds had travelled from all over the UK just to take part in this demo. There was no hidden agenda. So don't criticise them sitting on your arse in your favourite armchair watching Live8 on the telly.
I had some funny photos taking of me hobnobbing with some cops in full riot gear.
I will publish them on the Blog, but unfortunately Lorna (whose camera it was) and Mark have rather selfishly gone up to Granton-On-Spey on holiday for 2 weeks, so I'll have to wait for them to get back first.
News that Venus Williams had won Wimbledon capped a splendid 2 weeks of sports betting for me, and I turned in a nice profit of £600.
This is probably an inappropriate Blog entry to include such gambling tittle tattle, but such is life.
I should add that I immediately bought a large round in the Southsider Bar when news of Venus' triumph was announced.
Saw a bit of Live8 on the telly. Enjoyed Madonna, Pink Floyd & Paul McCartney.
I get bored shitless with the bad mouthing of all these events by know-it-all arseholes. As far as I'm concerned, ar least 300 000 people (probably more, even though the official figure was 225 000) decided to show a bit of solidarity for an idea to help eradicate the global blight of poverty, and went for a walk round Edinburgh.
Yes, a lot of Africa's problems are self-inflicted and any debt removal has to be tied to conditions to prevent corrupt leaders diverting funds. Yes, a lot of the key components of this measure are already agreed.
So what was the point of demonstrating?
Well, it was just an affirmation that a lot of people felt a need to demonstrate their support for such measures, and push for more similar action on the bigger global scheme of things.
There was no big Rock Concert involved, so please spare us the tired old arguments about people just wanting to go to a party and feel pious about it all.
People of all ages and backgrounds had travelled from all over the UK just to take part in this demo. There was no hidden agenda. So don't criticise them sitting on your arse in your favourite armchair watching Live8 on the telly.
I had some funny photos taking of me hobnobbing with some cops in full riot gear.
I will publish them on the Blog, but unfortunately Lorna (whose camera it was) and Mark have rather selfishly gone up to Granton-On-Spey on holiday for 2 weeks, so I'll have to wait for them to get back first.
News that Venus Williams had won Wimbledon capped a splendid 2 weeks of sports betting for me, and I turned in a nice profit of £600.
This is probably an inappropriate Blog entry to include such gambling tittle tattle, but such is life.
I should add that I immediately bought a large round in the Southsider Bar when news of Venus' triumph was announced.
Saw a bit of Live8 on the telly. Enjoyed Madonna, Pink Floyd & Paul McCartney.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
01/07/05 And Saskia Walks...
And so it came to pass that Saskia was evicted from the Big Brother House...!
kerching! kerching! as £64 falls into the coffers of Jim Park Inc.
During the day I had a game of golf with Mr Mark Dance on the hallowed turf of Dundas Parks Golf Course. This was where I learnt to play golf as a young boy.
It was another beautiful sunny day. The trees swayed majestically in a cooling breeze, and in the distance Dundas Castle glinted impressively in the sunlight.
On such a day, it seemed unimportant who actually won the match, as it was really just all about the pleasure of taking part. But it was me. I won. 5 and 4, (that means 5 holes up with 4 to play you non "golf aware" philistines). No triumphalism from me though. That would be wrong.
kerching! kerching! as £64 falls into the coffers of Jim Park Inc.
During the day I had a game of golf with Mr Mark Dance on the hallowed turf of Dundas Parks Golf Course. This was where I learnt to play golf as a young boy.
It was another beautiful sunny day. The trees swayed majestically in a cooling breeze, and in the distance Dundas Castle glinted impressively in the sunlight.
On such a day, it seemed unimportant who actually won the match, as it was really just all about the pleasure of taking part. But it was me. I won. 5 and 4, (that means 5 holes up with 4 to play you non "golf aware" philistines). No triumphalism from me though. That would be wrong.
30/06/05 Shouting Out Things
In the good old days, one of the defining characteristics of a British crowd at a sports event was a certain decorum and a stoical unwillingness to shout out things.
I don't include football and rugby in this analysis, as there is a culture of shouting out things in these sports. I'm talking more of the gentler pastimes of golf, tennis and cricket.
At Wimbledon, you'd maybe get few oohs and ahhs during rallies, but that would be it. The crowd's only involvement would be to give good, solid rounds of applause at the appropriate moments.
Now, after just about every point, there's a highly irritating chorus of "Come on, Tim/Greg/Roger/Andy etc!!!!".
It drives me nuts. I wouldn't mind if someone was saying something interesting or funny. Is this some pathetic attempt to get their voice on TV? Do they record the matches, and play them back when they get home, and try to find their stupid, rubbish interjections?
If I was sitting next to one of these culprits at Wimbledon (unlikely), I'd do a big,pretend yawn thing, simultaneously stretching out my arms, and would accidentally on purpose, elbow them in the face.
"Oh sorry, how clumsy of me! Yes, I know that's the eighth time I've done it. I'm just very unco-ordinated. Yes, really!"
In golf, we have imported from the USA, the even more annoying shout of "Get In The Hole!"
This is shouted every time a player makes a putt, and bears no relation to how close the ball is likely to end up near the hole.
I am at a loss to explain the motivation of the idiots who shout this out.
If I was at the Open Championship, (I have to concede this is more likely than me being at Wimbledon), and I caught sight of an offender, I would have no hesitation in removing the pin from a hand grenade and discreetly placing it in their napsack, before retiring a safe distance away.
They really have to be vehemently discouraged, and hopefully this could serve as a warning to other wannabee "Get In The Hole-ers"...
I was looking forward to whipping Debbie's ass on Thursday night.
I mean this metaphorically in a tennis sense.
Unfortunately, it was again my ass that was on the receiving end of a sound thrashing, as I crashed to a 2 sets to one defeat, and was sent homeward to think again.
I don't include football and rugby in this analysis, as there is a culture of shouting out things in these sports. I'm talking more of the gentler pastimes of golf, tennis and cricket.
At Wimbledon, you'd maybe get few oohs and ahhs during rallies, but that would be it. The crowd's only involvement would be to give good, solid rounds of applause at the appropriate moments.
Now, after just about every point, there's a highly irritating chorus of "Come on, Tim/Greg/Roger/Andy etc!!!!".
It drives me nuts. I wouldn't mind if someone was saying something interesting or funny. Is this some pathetic attempt to get their voice on TV? Do they record the matches, and play them back when they get home, and try to find their stupid, rubbish interjections?
If I was sitting next to one of these culprits at Wimbledon (unlikely), I'd do a big,pretend yawn thing, simultaneously stretching out my arms, and would accidentally on purpose, elbow them in the face.
"Oh sorry, how clumsy of me! Yes, I know that's the eighth time I've done it. I'm just very unco-ordinated. Yes, really!"
In golf, we have imported from the USA, the even more annoying shout of "Get In The Hole!"
This is shouted every time a player makes a putt, and bears no relation to how close the ball is likely to end up near the hole.
I am at a loss to explain the motivation of the idiots who shout this out.
If I was at the Open Championship, (I have to concede this is more likely than me being at Wimbledon), and I caught sight of an offender, I would have no hesitation in removing the pin from a hand grenade and discreetly placing it in their napsack, before retiring a safe distance away.
They really have to be vehemently discouraged, and hopefully this could serve as a warning to other wannabee "Get In The Hole-ers"...
I was looking forward to whipping Debbie's ass on Thursday night.
I mean this metaphorically in a tennis sense.
Unfortunately, it was again my ass that was on the receiving end of a sound thrashing, as I crashed to a 2 sets to one defeat, and was sent homeward to think again.
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