16/04/06 Easter Thoughts

So what has all this got to do with me anyway?






It's got a little warmer.
I have become rather irritated with the cold weather of late. Enough is enough.
I've had a couple of gigs at The Stand recently. They went quite well I thought...
Well better than my last few gigs before Xmas in which, to quote Bernard Manning, I was "about as funny as a fire in an orphanage".
I was being experimental you see...
Anyway, hopefully I didn't do too much damage to my comedy "career".
I also currently have a letter in the current edition of The List in which I drone on about issues relating to buying traditional tenement property in Edinburgh.
I come across as a pompous git...(not that there's anything wrong with that).
I've just spent a day out at Mitch and Jo's country retreat.
Very pleasant indeed, although far too idyllic really for my taste.
I mean, come on...a nice house in the country, lovely family, able to work at home...?
There's just not enough angst there for my liking...
I was relieved to be given a single finger salute by a grumpy driver on my way back into Edinburgh for hooting at him as he idiotically pulled out in front of me.
Now, that's the real world...! Wonderfully reassuring...
I have also been having a chuckle at a news story involving the Chief Inspector of Tayside Police making a speech to a dinner of top Scottish Legal representatives.
He inadvisedly told a joke which involved some Al Quaeda men discussing the careers of their suicide bomber sons.
The punchline was "Kids just blow up so quickly these days...!".
Apparently, the joke was met with total silence...
It's not a bad joke actually, but it just demonstrates the perils of throwing in a bit of inappropriate humour into formal occasions.
I remember making a joke at a job interview for Stirling Council in which the interview was held in a building which was a reconverted prison.
I made a quip like "Ah, so this was the old prison? I knew I'd been here before!" to the interview panel. I didn't get a laugh, let alone a smile...and I didn't get the job either...! Mind you that was probably a good thing.

09/04/06 News round-up

Pete Swanson's "disguise" isn't fooling anyone...
The damning evidence is here...Pete's campaign to quit the fags is over for the time being...
Shares in "British & American Tobacco PLC" have soared...

Last Friday was a very special day for me as I finally worked out the rules of "Deal Or No Deal"...! Hooray!
I'd caught many, many snippets of Noel Edmond's monster hit gameshow, but could never quite work out the rules and strategy of what was going on.
I didn't want to ask anyone, as I was determined to work it out myself, (I'd never managed to see the start of the show where the rules were probably explained).

Anyway, I know now, and to say I'm shocked and stunned is something of an understatement.
What with all the extended agonising by the contestants over their "Deal or No Deal" decisions, I envisaged a complex chess-like strategy of rules and options to consider....
Hah! It turns out they're just choosing fucking random boxes from start to finish but making the odd probability decision now and again.
I feel duped!
It still is strangely compelling viewing though.
I'll give you that...I'll give you that, sunshine...

02/04/06 Scottish Athletes

Whilst Scottish swimmers, cyclists and bowlers did very well at the Commonwealth Games, our athletes were overwhelmingly rubbish.
I read a shocking article in the newspaper last week in which it was intimated that the Scottish runners in the 1970 Commonwealth Games (held in Edinburgh) would beat the current Scottish team.
That's unbelievable. A lot of that squad must be well over 60 by now!
Surely there has to be an independent inquiry into how things got to this sorry state of affairs.
Too much time playing computer games, listening to pop music and smoking Class C drugs is obviously taking its toll amongst the nation's disaffected youth.
I was driving though town today listening to commentary of the Hearts v Hibs Scottish Cup semi-final.
Hearts took the lead in 28 minutes.
5 minutes later I was driving down Morrison Street and passed the trendy, exclusive nightspot "Diane's Pool Bar".
A police van drew up abruptly outside and 8 officers hurriedly piled into the bar.
Obviously the goal had sparked off a bout of silly behaviour amongst the watching fans...!
I suspect that it is going to be a tough day to be a policemen on duty in Edinburgh.
The match ended up in the nightmare scenario from a police point of view.
A draw would have seen the day pass off reasonably peacefully, and the replay would be in Edinburgh.
However, Hibs were humiliatingly cuffed 4-0 and had two players sent off.
I wouldn't like to be on the trains coming back from Glasgow after the game.
A compelling cocktail of pissed up triumphalism alongside pissed up wounded pride.
A recipe for disaster....!
It was a chronically stupid idea to play the match in Glasgow anyway.
Edinburgh will be like a bad day in Baghdad tonight methinks.
I watched the second half in Riery's Bar in Haymarket.
I'm loving this smoke free regime.
It really is nice to spend a bit of time in a bar without coming out stinking of fags.
I have to warn the public though that I will be forced to punch in the face the next person I hear saying, "What are they going to do next? Ban drinking in pubs?" (then laugh uproariously at their display of wit).
Just realise that you're about the millionth person this week in Scotland to have made this rather weak joke. Move on. Think of a new angle.
No, not the one about smelling peoples' farts and the pong of disinfectant! Something else...something new...
How about 50ft fags? Aw, that's been done already as well, hasn't it?

27/03/06 Gangs of New Town

I cheered myself up last week by going to see an amateur production of "West Side Story" at the Kings Theatre in Edinburgh with some learned friends.
I myself appeared in a version of this play many years ago and still shudder as I contemplate the vision of yours truly dancing onto the stage with the grace and poise of a disabled rhino.
Amateur companies putting on musicals always run into problems with casting.
You need people who can sing really well to take on the principal roles obviously. However, you also need them to look reasonably convincing as the characters they play in terms of age, build, attractiveness etc
In WSS, you have the added requirement that they need to be able to dance as well.
Inevitably there has to be elements of compromise, as you don't have thousands of potential actors and actresses to choose from.
The lead male Tony looked great and sang magnificently, but unfortunately danced like a disabled rhino. It almost seemed like a touching tribute to my own dancing performance all those years ago.
A few of the Jets and Sharks were in there late 30s (not that there's anything wrong with that) ; one or two of them were balding (not that there's anything wrong with that) ; a few were extremely camp looking (not that there's anything wrong with that ; however, they just didn't look too threatening and delinquent)
But, hey it was all good fun, and the music is always a joy to listen to, so you can't go wrong really.
There were a few technical problems though....
Sometimes the big scenery backdrops clattered down on top of misplaced props ; much to the great amusement of the audience which seemed to be predominantly made up of schoolkids.
It reminded me of the closing scenes of the Marx Brothers "A Night At The Opera" whereby a serious opera was disrupted by random backdrops of battleships and other inappropriate images.
I would have loved to see Harpo Marx scurry up the scenery being chased by cops during the "rumble scene".
One other incident which stood out occurred in the lead up to the great showstoppin' number "America".
Before they launch into the song, there's a bit of banter between two Puerto Rican girls.
One is homesick and nostalgic for Puerto Rico, and the other thinks she's an idiot because Puerto Roci is really rubbish and that America is much better.
At one point the nostalgic girl says "We came like children, believing, trusting.
With our hearts open. With our arms open."
The non-nostalgic one then is supposed to say "You came with your mouth open!"
It's quite a funny little cheeky line which always earns a chuckle from the audience.
However, this production changed the line to "You came with your pants open!"
I was shocked, and made an embarassing, snorting guffaw type sound, causing the people in the row in front to look round disapprovingly.
Whose idea was that change? Stephen Sondheim would be spinning in his grave if he wasn't still alive.
The other problem WSS has is that in the climactic scene a gunshot is fired.
Maria's estranged buyfriend Chino wacks Tony in revenge for killing Bernardo.
This is all well and good.
However, when a gun goes off in a theatre, the audience collectively shits itself with the shock of the noise.
This then morphs into sustained laughter as they try to settle down again.
Bearing in mind this is a tragic scene in which Tony is shot and lies dying in Maria's arms ; it's not the ideal audience reaction.
The playwriter should have taken this into consideration.
It would have worked better if Chino had used a bow and arrow or perhaps a blowpipe ; or possibly jabbed Tony with a ricin coated umbrella point, as Tony waited at a bus stop.
At the very least, you could get a joke gun which unfurls a little flag with "Bang!" written on it as it is fired.
But hey, it was a great show which I really enjoyed, and I don't want to get into trouble as there were a couple of folk I knew in the cast.

26/03/06 Hello Again

As many of you will know, my much loved Dad passed away recently and consequently life hasn't felt particularly funny of late ; hence the non-appearance of my usual daily drivel.
Anyway, I'd like to post the poems read at my Dad's funeral as a tribute.
(Tom Mabbott, a good friend of my Dad, read "Epitaph To a Friend", and myself and my sister Ann read "The Blue Doo" ; a poem which was one of my Dad's acclaimed party pieces over the years... He could perform it miles better than I could ever hope to!)



Epitaph to a Friend

An honestman here lies at rest
As e’er God with his image blest;
The friend of man, the friend of truth,
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,
Few heads with knowledge so informed:
If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.



The Blue Doo

There was wunst a wee doo,
An’ this wee doo was blue,
It had got itsel’ right in a mess.
Now it might be that you
Never heard of this doo,
Well ah’ll tell ye for you’d never guess.

Well, this wee doo was seeck,
It had banjo’d its beak,
Jist wi’ stabbin’ a daud of stale breid.
When alang came a boy,
Jist a durrty wee boy,
Who had snotters an’ beasts in his heid.

Said the wee boy – Aw jings!
Ah love a’ things wi’ wings!
An’ he gave the wee doo a big cuddle,
Then he mendit its beak,
He jist gave it a tweak,
Then he saftened its breid in a puddle.

Well, the doo gulped the breid,
It wiz hunger – no’ greed,
An’ it said tae the boy – Thanksalo’,
For yir jist a wee pe’,
An’ ah’ll never forge’
End the truth is it nevah forgot!

So youse people take heed,
Ayeways saften doo’s breid,
An’ never smack boys who have beasts in thir heid,
For ye might smack the boy
Who was good to the doo,
An’ the next thing ye’ll know is –
The doo might get you!

26/01/06 Friends In The News

George Galloway meets my good friend Pete Swanson.
They are meeting to discuss the possibility of teaming up and manufacturing 50ft long Havannah cigars as well as Pete's proposed "smoking ban bustin'" 50ft Silk Cuts.






Also, I was recently surprised to see Cheesy McLoughlin's great chum "Fat Mike" appearing on TV swimming up the River Thames. He managed to captivate the entire UK media as well as thousands of watching Londoners for 2 days.
I have to say though that I am deeply puzzled as to why he carried out this act of flagrant exhibitionism....
I was also shocked that he would go so far as to fake his own death on national TV.
I can only guess that he staked his entire fortune on Middlesboro FC not getting relegated this year?
Perhaps recent events have forced him to consider a complete change of identity and a move abroad financed by the Life Assurance cash paid out to the named beneficiary....his sidekick Cheesy....! (who'll probably pocket a percentage)
Is this far fetched? I don't think so...it all fits into place as far as I am concerned.

24/01/06 MonkeyMania...!

I don't know much about "The Arctic Monkeys" at all really.
I know they're quite new, from Sheffield, have a huge following which they've cultivated on the Internet via free downloads of their songs, and are a thrashy pop group with reputedly clever, insightful (is that a proper word?) lyrics.
Anyway, I've heard the odd clip, and think they sound quite good.
Of course, they are now poised to become another contender for the title "Biggest British group since The Beatles", and there will be an almighty amount of media hype in the next few weeks about this combo.
I like the fact that they seem like a real band. It seems they are friends who have just got together to play music and form a band. Like the way we used to do in the old days. You know...record a few creaky demos, play loads of gigs in dingy bars and church halls, send the tapes optimistically away to every record company in Christendom, waiting for an A & R (that's "Artists and Repertoire" if you are not familiar with these chaps...and they did always seem to be "chaps" in those days) man to hear the tape and realise that he's just heard the fledgling tinkles of the "Next Big Thing"....
The drummer and the bassist are probably in the band because they're part of a group of friends rather than the best possible instrumentalists available.
That's what happens in proper groups.
(not that I'm making any parallels with my glittering drumming career)
The best example of this admirable loyalty is "Def Leppard". They continued to employ their drummer even after he lost an arm in a road accident. I loved them for doing that. Although I still didn't actually like their music very much.
The Monkeys will be/are huge, and it's nice that they've done it by avoiding appearing on moronic "Pop Stars" -esque TV shows.
They're a "proper" band, and I rejoice in their success.
Television, Simon Cowell and Pete Waterman have had nothing to do with their meteoric rise to fame...and this must be seen as a good thing.
I was walking past a TV again last week, and again "Celebrity Big Brother" was on... (the TV owner is obviously a veritable saddoe with a chronic addiction to reality tv shows).
I don't say this lightly, but the scene in which George Galloway verbally mugged Michael Barrymore has to be the most electrifying TV sequence I've witnessed since Derren Brown did his "Russian Roulette" show.
In the media today, George is being portrayed as an aggressive bully.
There is an element of this at play, but, in fairness, most of his criticisms of Barrymore were spot on.
George is coming out tonight though. The Big Brother "character assassination by selective editing" has been carried out on him and he will walk tonight...
Freed from the shackles of IT work, I am back on the "investment" game.
Here are my tips (I have invested in these myself) ;
Back Gus Hiddink to be England's next manager
Lay against Man Utd beating Blackburn tonight

21/01/06 Getting Shirty

When I was working down Stockbridge way, I had something of a morning routine.
I stopped off at "Starbucks" on my way to San Quentin.
Me : "Could I have a slice of Lemon Drizzle Cake please"
Customer Service Assistant : Certainly sir, and can I get you a hot drink as well?
Me: No, thank you...
This exact conversation was repeated 3 times a week for 4 months (I didn't have cake every day. I'm disciplined. I'm not a glutton.)
Anyway, on my last day, I couldn't resist the lure of sarcasm...and instead of "No, thank you", came back with "Oh, I see, do you sell hot drinks here as well?".
"Are you being funny?"
"eh...Yes!"
"Do you want a hot drink or not?
"No, I don't. You see if I wanted a hot drink I'd just ask for one. I realise when I come into "Starbucks" that coffee is available. I just find it a bit odd that you feel you have to ask me whether I want a drink or not..."
At this, I was brusquely given my change, and the assistant moved on to the next customer...
I certainly showed them, didn't I?
It just seems daft to me. Usually you try the supplementary selling technique for something not too obviously available...
If you're buying shoes, you may well be interested in buying some aerosol leather protector, and welcome the sales assistants' recommendation of the aforementioned product. You might not have previously thought of buying this item.
Similarly, if you're having your hair cut in a Barbers, the offer of "something for the weekend, sir" is a useful service.
I don't expect to get a hot drink sales pitch it when I go into a shop which obviously specialises in hot drinks.
I mean, it's blatantly obvious I don't want a hot drink.
I just want to have my cake and eat it.
I get free tea at work from the machine.
I don't want to pay £2.50 for a cup of milky, weak shite.
I can get that for nothing out of the machine.
I was on a roll, and before I knew it I was complaining to the assistant at "Victoria Wines" about the price of their wine.
They've got this "offer" on all their stock at the moment in that if you buy 2 bottles of wine you get a third free.
Of course this effectively means that if you just want one bottle of wine you are completely shafted with a rip-off price.
I'm sure this policy will go a long way in terms of alleviating Scotland's rampant excessive drinking problem.
One bottle of wine? Don't be stupid. Buy 3!!! You know it makes sense!
Livers? who needs them?
The assistant groaned "You can't please everybody..."
I've decided to no longer offer my patronage to "Victoria Wines".
I just ordered 50 bottles of wine from the "Sunday Times" wine club.
This is a slight change of tack from my championing of the single bottle purchase. However, i could have bought a reasonable priced single bottle of wine if I'd wanted to.
And, don't think that just because I will have a massive supply of wine in my flat, that my intake will no doubt increase.
That argument carries no weight as far as I am concerned.
And, by the way...Graeme Souness! Can you hear me..? Go Now!!!! It's over!!!
Show a semblance of dignity and allow me to pick up my cash....
He's shamelessly hanging on for his compensation money for being sacked. If he had any conscience he's walk away, realising that he has made a complete and utter c**t of the job!

18/01/06 I'm Free...

"...and freedom tastes of reality" as Roger Daltrey of The Who sang...
Actually, I find freedom tastes more like steak and kidney pie and carrots than anything else ; but that's probably just me.
I mention this because I have just finished my latest IT Contract and am once more a man of leisure of sorts.
In my spare time I have been making a few Bollywood short films.
Take a look at this and this and this and even this and finally this cinematic masterpiece.

Yes, I know that these are all fairly rubbish, but hopefully one day I will be clever and funny and all that.
These will just have to do for the time being...
It only took me 10 minutes to do them all anyway...so what do you expect...come on!...be reasonable for god's sake...
I have just been out visiting my local, friendly fundamentalist atheist Dave Reilly whose ankle I accidentally broke in a football match 8 weeks ago.
He's still plastered up and is still getting painful grief from his foot.
I advised him he should pray to the Lord and it'll probably heal quicker.
Hopefully, he'll get a good report when he gets a hospital check-up on Friday.
I had brought exotic fruit to cheer him.
He was happy to see it, and it was great fun exchanging chirpy banter with Dave.
I confidently stated that this was the first time I'd been in his house since 1985.
This surprised the Reillys as they only moved in to their house in 1987.
I suspect it's a case of reincarnation, and in a previous life as a gypsy accountant, I may well have been in his house...
But Dave probably doesn't believe in that sort of scientific reasoned argument.
I suspect you can read his version of this historic encounter here.
On the way home "A Little Glass Of Champagne" by Sailor came on the radio (I was listening to Radio 2).
Coincidentally, Dave and I were not drinking champagne, but took coffee instead.

I have stopped smoking again (zzzzzzzzz...boring...boring...boring...).
I had actually intended to keep smoking till the public space smoking ban comes into effect in March.
I just smoked too much one night late on...couldn't get to sleep...was a zombie at work all the next day, and just thought this is fucking stupid.
I don't even actually enjoy smoking all that much.
So here we go again...
Anyway, I've done 15 days now and feel tip top...no cravings whatsoever...but I suspect I've said that very same thing in the past...

I just happened to be flicking channels and I came across Celebrity Big Brother.
I don't watch it really. I just catch the odd snippet. Yes, really.
Anyway, George Galloway came up with an interesting anecdote...
He recounted a conversation he's had with Nelson Mandela relating to his 27 year imprisonment on Robben Island.
Mandela and the ANC bigwigs had come to a group decision not to smoke during their captivity.
This must have been an extremely tough decision to take, as I'd imagine smoking is generally regarded by prisoners as an isolated little beacon of pleasure amidst the tedium and angst of being locked up.
Their reasoning was that the guards already controlled their liberty, and that by smoking, it would give the guards more control over them, in that they'd also have power in terms of controlling tobacco supply to the inmates.
Not smoking was to them a gesture of inner strength and defiance.
So anyway, I really should be able to stop a lot easier than them!
As George said, that's a major reason why Mandela looked so healthy and vibrant when he was released.
He'd probably have looked vastly different if he'd been on 60 a day for 27 years.

15/01/06 Sven, Will I See You Again?

Doh!


Sven, Sven, Sven..... I can't believe you fell for the News of the World "Fake Sheik" routine!
It's been used several times to catch public figures on the hop, eg Newcastle United directors were quoted as saying "Alan Shearer is like Mary Poppins!" and "...all Newcastle women are dogs!" ; then there was Sophie of Wessex saying that her PR company "could fix up Royal contacts" for clients.
There have been a few more which I can't remember the exact details of.
The format is always the same though. A rich "Sheik" looking to throw a few million quid around gets the salivating personalities to be a little more candid than is generally adviseable.
If I was approached by a Sheik, I would treat him in the same way as I would treat a noted practical joker inviting me to sniff a large, (suspiciously plastic), flower pinned on his lapel.
I would immediately pull at his beard to determine if it was false, thus rumbling his disguise before he had the chance to entice me into making embarassing remarks about famous people that I am a close, personal friend of.
There would be a worry though that I could get into serious trouble if I pull the beard of a bona fide Sheik, who legitimately wants to speak with me on business.
Pulling someone's beard in Saudi Arabia is a serious criminal offence.
However, it's worth avoiding the risk of being shown to be a gullible idiot in a downmarket national newspaper.
I can't think of any other country in which the national media would seek to destabilise the national football team such a short time from a World Cup.
It's a very odd aspect of our culture.
It's the lengths that they went to in order to set up the entrapment which is mind boggling.
They invited Sven and his assistants to go to Dubai under a false premise..booked rooms and function suites in posh hotels, hired actors (including the legendary "Fake Sheik"), and ultimately got some inconsequential shite about how he
"might leave his job if England win the World Cup"
If he wins the World Cup, I expect he'll be free to do whatever he wants...He could even arrange oral relief from the Queen, I'd imagine...
I hasten to add, this doesn't apply in Scotland...
There would be a compulsory media blackout and a suitable duration of "national mourning". Probably about 6 months.
"BBC Sports Personality Of The Year 2006" would be even more unwatchable than it usually is.
There will be a special edition of "A Question of Sport" with teams from the 1966 and 2006 World Cup Winning teams playing against each other.
Geoff Hurst and David Beckham will be endlessly photographed together saying how much "they respect each other".
All the squad will be knighted...
"Arise Sir Wayne Rooney..."
It's a nightmare...a nightmare...make it go away...make it go away....

Oh, and the other "revelations" were that Rio Ferdinand is "a bit lazy" (shock! horror!), and Michael Owen isn't that happy at Newcastle and "only went there for the money" (well, who on earth would have thought that)

12/01/06 Will Jodie Be Evicted?

hmmmm.....yum yum






A nation holds its breath...!
Not that I ever watch that godawful rubbish TV show "Celebrity Big Brother", but is Jodie Marsh a definite to get booted out tonight as she has seemed to be all week? I'm not so sure now....
It's a funny old Johnny, "memory", you know...
A "Beryl The Peril" storyline in the broadsheet comic "The Topper", (for the sophisticated child who looks for something slightly edgier than the bland tabloid fare of the "Dandy" and "Beano"....eg "Biffo the Bear"...what was all that about?).
Anyway, Beryl and her pals stage a spontaneous series of "anti-grown-up" demonstrations demanding certain "rights for kids"; much to the chagrin of her long-suffering father.
He is embarassed very publicly and is forced into making a number of lifestyle concessions to his brazen daughter Beryl.
All the adult neighbours think this is hilarious and take great delight in Beryl's Dad's obvious discomfort.
However, Beryl's Dad then embarks on a cunning ploy.
He ties his hands together and stealthily attaches himself to a pram by a length of rope or something at the back of Beryl's latest demo.
It gives the appearance that he has been abducted and tied up by the militant children and is being humiliatingly paraded throught the streets.
On seeing this, the adults are outraged and decide "enough is enough".
"They've gone too far this time!", they all exclaim in unison...
The kids' revolution is brought to a shuddering halt, as all the participating children are frog-marched home by their parents, and are probably soundly thashed for good measure.
What I'm trying to say is that although Jodie has been irretrievably awful ;no-one likes a bully.
She has accumulated a good deal of sympathy over the past couple of days as a consequence of being subjected to sustained aggression from the other inmates, principally Pete Burns, (who is himself almost as obnoxious as Jodie Marsh, but not quite...)
I think he may have overdone it.
British people hate bullying and will always have a measure of sympathy for the plucky underdog, even if she is completely obnoxious.
I'm bored...
pathetic excuse...I know, I know...

08/01/06 Celebrated Big Brother

My older brother is currently staying in my flat.
While I have been earnestly trying to save the planet by not sending any Xmas cards, (and thus discouraging continuing mass deforestation of the rainforests. It should be obvious that I am a true environmentalist who "talks the talk and walks the walk".), Gavin leaves the light on in every room he visits and is shockingly wasteful with my (and ergo the world's) energy supplies.
He reminds me of Michael Jackson in his "Billie Jean" video in which Jackson magically lights up every surface which he has just stepped on.
Paving slabs, staircases....you name it....Jackson switches them on with absolutely no consideration for the ensuing electricity bills.
On football matters, Graeme Souness is teetering on the brink of getting the boot from Newcastle Utd.
The £250 prize for predicting this event taking place before the end of the season is almost within my grasp.
Predictably, he's vowed not to resign under any circumstances ; in spite of the fact that his reign there has been a disaster, and he's totally lost the support of the fans and now, apparently, the boardroom as well.
The trouble is, no manager ever actually "resigns" these days. They wait to get sacked so that they get a tasty big settlement payment for the remainder of their contract. It's understandable, but inconsiderate, as I'd like my money now, and can't be bothered hanging around for the Board to finally wake up, smell the coffee, and bid farewell to Mr Sourness.
Continuing on a football theme, it was my great honour to score the first goal of 2006 in our regular 5-a-side game.
A left-footed half-volley whizzed passed the static keeper to open the scoring.
My overall contribution after this feat of derring do was fairly limited.
But that's of little import. My work was done. And my team strolled to victory.
To come back from a debilitating hamstring injury and achieve this great honour is surely one of the great sporting feelgood stories of 2006.
It's reminiscent of Bob Champion winning the Grand national on "Aldiniti".
Perhaps I should try to sell the rights of this inspiring tale to Hollywood?
On the subject of football, England fans concerned with Michael Owens's World Cup fitness prospects, in light of him breaking his 5th metatarsal bone, should relax....
9 years ago, I broke exactly the same bone playing football, but 6 weeks later was back playing again, and effortlessly managed to recapture my pre-injury level of footballing mediocrity, and haven't looked back since.
I expect it will be the same with Michael.
I also invested a load of cash in "UK Coal plc" yesterday...
With our projected increasing reliance on Russian gas, and the ensuing risk that they could get shirty with us in the same manner as they have been with Ukraine, I've figured that we may well re-open a lot of the pits that were shut down, and increase production at existing ones.
Well yes, carbon emmissions would go up, but we could counter that by continuing to reforest the Scottish Highlands and that'll act as a carbon sink.
It's obvious innit?
It's either that or build loads of new Nuclear Power Stations. This is possible, but deeply controversial, and would probably take a long time to agree sites and build them etc...
So I reckon that coal will make a comeback (sort of).
And of course if everyone who reads this buys thousands of shares in "UK Coal", it will push the share price up, and then I can immediately sell my holdings, make a large profit and leave you all to take the future risk that my hypothesis is utter bollocks. (which it most likely is)
That's the way Capitalism works.
It's great, isn't it?

05/01/06 Memories....

Not looking a day older than when I last saw him in our student days, Miles seems pleased to see me!









I was buying a filled roll from the local Deli today when I spotted a familiar face in the queue.
I had a ponder and then it struck me.
Could this indeed be "Miles", with whom I served on the Entertainments Committee at Stirling University, many,many years ago?
I didn't run over to hug him. I could still clearly remember that we didn't really like each other at Stirling.
Miles was stringently sensible and responsible in his student lifestyle choices. In fact he probably still is.
In contrast, I had a more cavalier attitude towards the moral maze of student life, and as a consequence we weren't the best of buddies.
There was probably more to it than that, but I can't remember precisely.
Famously, myself and legendary ne'er-do-well, Sandy Grom, were unceremoniously booted off the Ents Committee by "Hanging Judge" Miles and his cohorts.
Our offence? We had been on box-office duty, and had been duly pestered into giving away 6 tickets for the "Pathfoot Disco" by some of our "so-called" friends.
I hasten to add that there was no profit in it for us. It was a selfless act. We were latter day "Robin Hoods" ; stealing from the rich ("Students Association"),
and giving to the poor, unwashed, simple-minded, poverty-stricken individuals who relied on us for support, (aka Dave King, Jim McManus, Bill Wilson, Bill Burns, Richard Arnott & Shamie McTickle). ...
However, when the discovery was made that ticket money was short, we stood accused and had to face the crass indignity of a disciplinary hearing.
It was nothing but a show trial...
We'd hoped for an appearance by the six direct beneficiaries of our ticket largesse. An appeal for mercy from them, a hearty endorsement of our previous impeccable character, along with an apologetic undertaking to reimburse the "Students Association" with the deficit, might have bought us a more lenient punishment...
However, they didn't show up at all, and had apparently gone to the pub in town to take beer instead...
It was a huge blow for our defence team...
We then had no alternative but to plead guilty to all charges.
We anticipated a ticking off, but Miles wanted blood. We sat ashen-faced, as we discovered we were being kicked off the committee with immediate effect.
"The Guildford 4" and "Birmingham 6" cases paled into insignificance when juxtaposed with this horrendous miscarriage of justice.
For me personally, this was an unmitigated disaster. Being elected to an Ents role had many nice perks.
For instance, we were paid to attend all the University concerts & clubs, (we would have been there anyway), only having to spend a short time on the box-office rota. It was the best job to have as a student.
I was also paid to attend a "Students Entertainments Conference" over a weekend in Sheffield as a Stirling representative, staying in an extremely posh hotel.
I even shared an elevator with David Vine, who was presenting BBC coverage of the "World Snooker Championship" at the Crucible in Sheffield, and was staying at the same hotel... I said "hello", and he said "hello" back.
It was one of the proudest moments of my life.
These were halcyon days indeed...
I got to meet and say "hello" to many top music acts like "Siouxie and the Banshees", "The Undertones", "The Adverts", "The Cramps", "Squeeze", "The Pirates", "The Skids", "Gong" (cough), "The Thermometers" (cough cough), "The Capital Models", "The Pure Bears"....basically ALL the greats....and occasionally some would even say "hello" back.
Anyway, I spoke to him as he paid for his sarnie, and it was indeed Miles....
It turns out he does freelance IT work as well. At the Royal Bank of Scotland, no less.
We had a few minutes of banter and then bade our farewells.
I cursed that I didn't have spare tickets for some vacuous club event on my person....
I could have flashed them at him and said "Hey Miles, I shouldn't really be doing this, but would you like a couple of free tickets to this vacuous club event?"
Hopefully he would say, "Yes, that'd be great!"
Than I'd go "aha!!! so you'd take them would you! without paying?? aha!! Got You... Got You....yes...yes...yes...revenge ....revenge...I win etc etc etc"
I'd continue this rant indefinitely until the Deli staff were forced to call the police and I am then formally arrested for a "breach of the peace"...
However, I'd be confident that the super six(aka Dave King, Jim McManus, Bill Wilson, Bill Burns, Richard Arnott & Shamie McTickle) ...would redeem themselves, securing my release and paying my bail money to make amends for their shoddy behaviour in my previous time of need at Stirling University.

04/01/06 Cough Cough

Pete gets in some valuable "pre-smoking ban" training (at altitude)












Idiotically, I've recently relaunched my smoking career with a
vengeance.
It's not the case of me making an eccentric 2006 New Year Resolution to "start smoking again".
I have to confess that I've been furtively puffing away for a couple of months.
Some friends have helpfully pointed this out by saying with a concerned look, "you've been smoking quite a lot lately, haven't you?"
To which I usually respond, "Yes, thanks for noticing, it's going really well. My ambition is to build it up to 60 a day by next month, but, in fairness, that's a big ask!"
I'm not quite sure why my sustained nicotine abstinence campaign so spectacularly imploded. Strange, very strange. I was doing really well.
Thankfully, help is at hand; in March of this year, the smoking ban in public places comes into effect in Scotland. This should finally extinguish my pathetic nicotine addiction, as I generally only smoke when I'm drinking.
I'll be genuinely delighted when the ban comes into force, and once again I'll assume the gratingly, self-righteous persona of an "ex-smoker".
Unarguably, they represent the lowest form of life on the planet.
To ready myself for post-March encounters with hardened smokers, I'm already practising waving my hand in front of my face, coughing theatrically, and cultivating a perpetual pious, disapproving expression on my face.
I'll be ready to go in March....! Yippee!
Me old mucker Pete, who smokes on average 750 ultra-light Silk Cuts a day (2000 a day at weekends), is mightily concerned about the implications of the upcoming ban.
He is very fond of a coffee and 400 cigarettes of an afternoon in the cafes and bars of old Edinburgh toon.
This legislation is obviously going to have a drastic impact on his social life.
I was thinking of suggesting to him that he writes to Silk Cut, and inquires, as one of their best customers, if they can design some special cigarettes for him?
Perhaps he could have a packet of 60 ft long fags that he could sit in the bar with, drinking his coffee, but sticking his elongated coffin nail out of the pub window and then smoke it till it burnt down to the window, carefully storing the exhaled smoke in a balloon which he occasionally takes outside the pub to pop with a knitting needle to release the contents.
I'm actually surprised that the Scottish Parliament haven't already acted to close down this obvious loophole in the ban legislation.
The only flaw in this ingenious smokers' counter-action is that Pete will need to employ someone to wait outside the pub with a step-ladder, which he or she (let's not forget, it's the era of equal opportunities) would climb to light the end of Pete's pub-window protruding giant gasper.
He or she would also have to carefully manoeuvre a 20 ft wide glass ashtray towards the pub window, thus collecting the ash as Pete inhales deeply from his fantastical fag.
It's the only way I can think of to easily beat the ban, and Pete's Titanic Tabs would be the talk of the toon.
Alternatively, I suppose you could wear a hermetically sealed astronaut suit and smoke inside it?
Mind you, it would be uncomfortable having all the smoke swilling around in your suit, and as a consequence, you would be simultaneously smoking actively AND passively, thus increasing the health risk exponentially.
Scrub that one. Stupid idea really.

03/01/06 The Perennial Cheeky Monkey

My role model....


I got into my car and prepared to move off from my parking space in sunny Coates Gardens.
I then noticed another car stop 10 yards back from me. He was obviously waiting for me to leave, and then take the vacant parking space for himself.
This is entirely reasonable behaviour.
However, I reacted in a worrying way ; in retrospect convincing myself that I lack emotional maturity on a number of levels.
Rather than promptly start the engine, have a glance around and move off, (as I would normally do), I subconsciously went into slow motion, and every action was reminiscent of "The Six Million Dollar Man" show in which the bionic one performs incredible physical feats extremely slowly to a a springy type of noise soundtrack.
I fiddled about with the lights, had an interminable rummage in the glove compartment for an appropriate CD, (why is it called the "glove compartment" anyway? Why should gloves get a whole compartment to themselves? I mean, how many people ACTUALLY store gloves in their "glove compartments"? It's the hats I feel really sorry for. What do they get in the way of designated automobile storage facilities? Yes, you're right...fuck all...! not even a peg....) I then started reversing at an approximate speed of one millimetre an hour, before tentatively edging forward and out onto the road.
I estimated that I added an extra 3 minutes onto the normal expected duration for a car manoeuvre of this nature.
I detected a grumpy look from the parking space's new encumbent.
So what was all that about?
Is it an unconscious statement from myself to the other driver that I am (at least) his equal in the global pecking order, and as such he does not have the authority to make me vacate the space promptly?
Even if I did it at normal speed, it could be interpreted that I had been intimidated and had hurried (in a Frank Spencer-esque fashion) to allow this so-called "alpha male" to park.
I'd be seen as "kow towing" to him, and my status as the cool hipster of Coates Gardens would be seriously compromised.
So, by my shamelessly deliberate slow driving out of the space, along with the theatrical prevarication with the "glove compartment", I retained my dignity, and showed him I'm certainly someone to reckon with.
I need help (possibly).

02/01/06 Happy New Year!

CBE??? CBE??? what happened to "Sir Brucie" ???


Well, it's 2006, but unfortunately things are a bit grim at the moment for reasons I don't want to go into.
I'd never intended this to an overtly, confessional blog and I'm not going to start now, but it's difficult to write jolly prose without acknowledging that it's plainly not the best of times.
I had an interesting Hogmanay. I was on filming duty at the Departure Lounge club in the Cowgate in Edinburgh. I videoed the redoubtable Edinburgh Samba School troupe performing at the club, as well the Orchestra Del Sol.
It was a fun night indeed.
I nicked up to Black Bo's for a sneaky couple of New Years drinks and met up with some old cronies. I bumped into the luvverly Alia who I hadn't seen for about 10 years ,and I have to say that age had not withered her in the slightest and she was still uncannily radiant a decade down the line. Impressive...! That London air has done her no harm at all.
I thought TESS put in a highly enjoyable, ripsnortingly energetic show.
Unfortunately, apart from the dancers on the stage, the main band were cloaked in darkness, and it was extremely difficult to get any good video action.
I started from the balcony, but couldn't really pick the drummers out from the crowd.
I ended up pushing my way to the front and just doing close-up shots.
Unfortunately this meant that the sound was unbalanced and I got too much of the sound from whatever side of the band I was filming from.
I watched the footage yesterday, and it was fairly rubbish footage. Never mind...! I did my best....honest, guv...!
I got some great shots of ODS performing though. It was a lot easier as they were all on stage and had lighting.
I managed to cadge a lift home from Lorna. She is truly the Patron Saint of "Driving Pissed People Home Late At Night". She should really be given a special taxi certificate, valid for life, which allows the bearer to get pissed in any situation and be able to hail a free taxi. It's the least she deserves I would have thought.
For years, one of my favourite hobbies has been to guffaw sarcastically at the TV, and I was actively practising this art tonight while watching "Celebrity Mastermind".
The target of my scorn was none other than Mylene Klass, late of top pop combo "Hear'Say", and now a self-styled "classical musician".
I've always felt that the "specialist subject" category is demonstrably open to abuse in terms of realtive degree of difficulty.
Myleene's subject was "Sex And The City : Series 3".
Hmmm...not the broadest of specialist subjects really, is it? And I could think of terms other than "Mastermind" to describe anyone who has built up an encyclopaedic knowledge on so limited an area.
Needless to say, she stormed into the lead in the first round with a stunning 17 point haul.
Myself, and the rest of the TV audience then pondered how she would do in the General Knowledge section.
1 point.
Now that WAS funny.
All round good egg, and clever man, Iain Banks stormed to glory.
His specialist subject was "Malt Whisky". Now that's more like it. Respect!
My specialist subject would be "French Impressionism 1865 - 1930".
I probably wouldn't get any points at all, but the knowledge that I would receive tacit approval and acceptance for the perceived range and difficulty of my subject from TV watching "Jim Park" pedantic clones dotted around the country would sustain me in my time of crisis.
And it's taking part that counts, as they say...

29/12/05 Festive Florics

For the first time in my life I had a Xmas meal in a restaurant.
We'd booked a table for 14 at the fairly plush "Orocco Pier" establishment in downtown South Queensferry.
As we sat down to begin our meal, the strains of Live Aid and "Feed The World" were piped loudly through the speakers.
I didn't really feel that this was the most appropriate song to signal the commencement of an extended session of traditional Christmas gluttony.
Could we compare this to playing "Hanging Around" by the Stranglers at an annual Anti-Capital Punishment Society dinner?
...or "Going Underground" by The Jam at a funeral? I could go on...
The food was ok but not great and (as is generally the case for Xmas restaurant fare), horribly over-priced.
I prefer the domestic Xmas dinner, although that's easy for me to say as I've never been forced to cook the big fecking thing myself. Although, it's fair to say I didn't miss my usual prolonged stint on "dishwashing detail". It always had that "painting the Forth Bridge" endlessness about it.
One benefit/disadvantage (you decide) of this change of venue, was that it is not generally looked on favourably in restaurants if you go into the kitchen when you've finished your meal and start helping yourself to extra helpings of turkey, xmas pudding etc
Although, based on what we paid, I think we should have been allowed to do this.
However, I can appreciate that there are various health & safety issues involved in allowing 120 drunk people to wander around a busy, commercial kitchen picking at food.
As a result I didn't need to lie down and undo the top button of my trousers, as is usually the case after a normal classic Xmas binge eating day.
A taxi into town afterwards cost almost as much as the meal. Yo Ho Ho.
The television has been gruesome over the festive period.
I've enjoyed catching up with "Life In The Undergrowth" though. Amazing stuff. The insects are such great performers. I often wonder how many takes they have to do to get things just right.
I expect David Attenborough must have loads of hilarious out-takes of insects falling off twigs, getting their head stuck in tree sap or landing on a "dirty fido" from a joke shop, hilariously mistaking it for the real thing.
There are certain double standards at play though.
We are expected to be in awe of the intelligence behind devious tricks insects use to exploit situations to their advantage.
Like wasps laying an egg on a spiders back.
The larvae then kills the spider and sucks out it's insides, before discarding the carcass. Or the favourite old trick to paralyse other insects, then bury it next to your own eggs and let the babies eat the stricken prey (alive).
This is awful behaviour.
Can you imagine the social stigma attached to attending a dinner party and then sticking one of your eggs on the back of the host before you leave; in the full knowledge that he will soon have his insides sucked out by your lovely new baby, and then be casually discarded in the wheely bin.
This is unacceptable behaviour in anyone's language, so why should we admire, let alone tolerate, this behaviour in insects?
I've a good mind to write to the BBC Head of Programming.

17/12/05 Robert Hind is 40 Shock!

My "Cockburn St" anecdote raises a few chuckles, as the "Kenneth More" disguise impresses more than a few!






John Eglin has them rolling in the aisles with his "Robert and the Sleeping Bag" story!



Mitch is the MC with the mostest as he keeps things ticking along nicely...


I was down in London this weekend to attend top London photographer Robert Hind's 40th Birthday Bash. He's the younger brother of Nicky Hind, esteemed Comedy Consultant and Web Design Guru.
I felt the immortal words of WH Auden might lend themselves perfectly to this suspicious event...

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Shout "Robert is 40!" tum teh tum tum

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought he was only 39: I was wrong."

There was a 1940s theme, with authentic dress encouraged. I sported a tweed jacket, neckerchief look, based on an acclaimed British actor of this vintage, the one and only "Kenneth More Esq".
Probably his most famous film is "Reach For The Sky", a bio-pic of Sir Douglas Bader, the "Battle of Britain" veteran who lost both legs in a crash, but continued to fly combat missions.
Basing myself at Douglas Carnall's baronnial Hackney residence, I did feel slightly awkward walking through some fairly rough areas of Hackney looking like a posh presenter from "The Antiques Roadshow".
I really got into character ,particularly during "Lindy Hop" dance lessons, giving an authentic impression of having just been fitted with a pair of artificial legs.
A surprise attendee was Mr Gary Keltie, who had travelled from Australia to be at the party. I hadn't seem him in 16 years, and he looked annoyingly unwithered by age. He has obviously been experiencing a very sheltered existence, and has been fighting a losing battle against moisturiser addiction. Tragic.

Robert was looking suitably dapper with an RAF uniform on, although Douglas did later remark that he thought Robert "Bomber" Hind should have "demilitarised" his uniform to a greater extent, as it still had all the relevant badges on it.
I suspect the costume hirers might not have appreciated this happening though.
I have to say that all the girls were looking rather foxy in their 40s dresses.
There was shepherds pie and trifle, and the wine flowed freely.
A few of us had been drafted in to say a few words. It was the remit of John and I to take the mick, which I hope we satisfactorally achieved, by dredging up some hoary old anecdotes about the man himself. It was then left to Steve, Mitch and Will to deliver more fulsome tributes.
I got heckled by Robert! You couldn't make it up! Well, I never!

I had meant to read out a "telegram" sent in by Mr Dave Reilly, but tragically I lost the sheet of paper at some point before my speech...!
But here's the text anyway ;

"Dear Robert,
I don't know if you'll remember me or not. I first encountered you at the fair in South Queensferry in the summer of 1979 when you were but a spotty, 13 year old schoolboy. I'll never forget your first words to me.
"You're going bald" you said.
Today, I'd like to congratulate you on reaching your 40th birthday with the greeting, "What goes around comes around, hopefully".
Happy Birthday, Robert
David Reilly"

Touchin', huh?

btw check this fainting goat link . It's fascinating stuff!

13/12/05 Is It Safe?

I had to get a wisdom tooth yanked out today. Not the most enjoyable experience in the world, but nevertheless, it's a nice comfy seat and an opportunity not to be at work for an hour or two, so it's not all bad.
"Any problems with the tooth recently?" asked the dentist.
(I'd had bad toothache 6 weeks ago, and I'd taken a course of anti-biotics to clear it up)
"No", I said "it's been fine...".
I could then tell that the dentist was pondering whether he actually really needed to take my tooth out....
It had been on dental "death row" for 6 weeks, but it seemed to be a reformed character, and hadn't caused any further problems to society. In fact, it had talked about its plight to young healthy teeth and had warned them of the dangers inherent in the bag of sherbert lemons.... Surely redemption was not out of the question?
I don't really think extraction is a proper deterrent anyway. It's not the tooths fault that its owner has a chronic addiction to sherbert lemons.
"Did the anti-biotics take effect quite quickly?"
I sensed that if I answered "yes", I could possibly be sent on my way without receiving any of the arranged torture treatment.
However, I answered truthfully , "No, it took about 2 days...and at one point I had to get up in the middle of the night to drive to a 24 hour garage (thankfully it was still open), and buy some painkillers..."
This damning testimony sealed the tooth's fate.
The dentist put a little black hankie on his head and got a big pair of pliers out of the cupboard.
It was actually not too bad. I think it only took about 10 minutes.
The last time I had a wisdom tooth out, it took about an hour, and more or less involved the dentist sticking her knee against the side of my head to get more leverage. That was not relaxing at all. At the end I felt like I'd just done 10 rounds with Mike Tyson.
I impressed my co-workers by turning up at work immediately after my torture session. It's nothing to do with the fact that being a freelancer I don't get any sick pay.
I just have a very strong work ethic. Always have had. I identify with "Boxer" in the knock-about wacky novel "Animal Farm".

05/12/05 It's That Time Of Year Again!

I was walking along the street this morning when I was thrilled to see a large, colourful splash of vomit on the pavement, (aka "a pavement pizza").
I always interpret my first sighting of these lovely forms as an official indicator that the "festive season" is well under way, and that Christmas and all it entails will be here soon. In a way it encapsulates everything I find magical about Christmas!
It's similar to the wonder in nature of witnessing the first flowering snowdrop proclaiming the onset of Spring. It's the passing of the seasons, and a demonstration of the diverse variety of the British calendar. The first sound of a cuckoo...the cherry blossom bloom...
It's something of the reverse of one "swallow" not making the summer. Similarly, one example of projectile vomit doesn't necessarily definitely mean it's the Festive season, but it can be seen as an indicator. A Hors d'oeuvre for the main event.
I think it would be a nice touch to have a vomit advent calendar on the market. It's more in touch with the contemporary celebration of Christmas in our increasingly secular society.
Yessirrr...the office parties are up and running. I even have one to go to myself.
I had a gig at the Stand last night and stupidly/bravely (delete appropriate) decided to do a set of entirely new material. This included "naked charity calendars" and "finding a snail on my ceiling".
It's fair to say that there was more bafflement than laughter. A few people were absolutely pissing themselves, but most, ahem, weren't..!
In spite of this, I have to admit that I really enjoyed the danger of doing new stuff that I had no idea what reaction it would get, and I was glad that I didn't panic or start garbling, when I plainly wasn't getting a good reaction. Never show weakness! Never show weakness!!
I think I got them in the end though, and as I was leaving the stage a really attractive girl tapped me on the shoulder and said "That was really good!"
Well, that'll do for me..I didn't care what anyone else thought...that put a smile on my face...!
I walked home. The sick patch was still there. Perhaps I should get it laminated...!

02/12/05 Evening All!

Amidst nagging doubts that we played a little too long, the audience react badly to the last "Samba Reggae"...

Friday was Stu Whittle's gala leaving do. I sadly got there before anyone else. I asked a waitress where the reserved area for "Stuart Whittle" was. She said she'd check, and then came back in a couple of minutes loudly accusing me of being a wind-up merchant.
She thought I'd said "Stewart Little", and must have been on the receiving end of various wisecracks about there not being any party bookings for fictional mice tonight.
I protested my innocence, but I could tell she had a lingering suspicion about me.
It's not that it would even have been a hugely funny joke anyway...particularly as I stood around waiting for her to come back rather than run away, as is the convention for a misinformation jest of this nature.
I'd thought of phoning Stu to ask him if there was any chance he could get a mouse fancy dress costume at short notice, and then wear it to go to the pub.
That would have been mildly amusing, and may have rescued the situation.
Bizarrely, Stu actually did come along dressed as a guinea pig, however there aren't any famous fictional guinea pigs which spring to mind, so I was unable to find an alternative reference point.
Stu will be best remembered for winning the "Player Most Likely To Hit The Roof" for 2 years in succession in the 5-a-side football annual awards ceremonies.

I took beer then was whisked off to the salubrious confines of "Dalmahoy Country Club" to play a short gig with the Edinburgh Samba School.
We were all dressed as "Santa Claus". It's very much a sweaty, itchy experience wearing these felt costumes. I have to admire those who sit all day wearing this garb and being relentlessly cheery. It's a tough job.
Our audience were a party from the Fife Constabulary on their Xmas night out.
They weren't our most appreciative audience, and looked uncomfortable as we blasted out our 15 minute set for them.
With hindsight,I think 5 minutes would have been plenty.
They were smiley and relaxed on our appearance. (There is after all something endearingly quaint about a samba band staffed exclusively by fully dressed Santas). But after the novelty had worn off they grew restless and grumpy.
In spite of all this, I have to say that I thought I played particularly brilliantly considering I hadn't samba played for approximately 26 years.

30/11/05 St Andrews Day

Giving it Large on St Andrews Night!

Of course he's the Patron Saint of Scotland in case you didn't know...
We don't really mark this day with any wild celebrations or anything. It's a similar tale with Saint George down south...whereas "St Patrick's Day" is a massive celebratory date in Ireland's calendar.
I think we should have a holiday.
Apparently, he was crucified upside down. Now, that is just nasty. As if it isn't just bad enough getting a "regular" crucifixion.
A holiday would allow us to contemplate and remember him. Obviously.
Only 8 people turned up for the show at The Stand on Wednesday. The acts then had a discussion and it was agreed to pull the show.
There wasn't a great deal of evidence of "The show must go on!" mentality.
However, we all still got paid...so mustn't grumble.
I did immediately give a dollop of cash back to The Stand by buying Dundee comedian Paul Pirie YET ANOTHER pint...He now owes me 2361 pints and 83455 cigarettes, but hopefully he'll remember me when he's famous and buy me a nice house by the seaside.
It was a shame as The Stand had put in a bit of effort for "St Andrews Day", giving everybody a free whisky at the door in honour of this suspicious occasion.
But, as I said earlier, no-one really gives a shit about this date in Scotland.

Other news ; I was honoured to be selected from thousands of comedian blogs to appear on "The Times" Obituary Writer and top stand-up comic Liam Mullone's web site,
as you can read here.
He does take the opportunity to have a go at the font on my web site ; deeming it worthy of use by a "Vicar".
This is probably fair comment, as the site definitely needs a makeover, as I do myself if truth be told.

26/11/05 All Kinds Of Everything

(remind me of you....)

I've got a gig at The Stand in Edinburgh this Wednesday as you can read here.
However, I almost choked on my Worthers Original, and fell clean out of my bath chair, when I was informed the gig on Wednesday was being billed as an "Old Stars Evening".
I suspect The Stand must be having a bit of an ironic joke by inviting a thrusting, dynamic young comedian like myself to appear in this themed event.
Well, they ARE a comedy club, so I suppose it is only natural for them to make jokes now and again. I shouldn't take it too seriously.
Bruce Morton is headlining. It should be a good night. Get your colostomy bags along there and have a pleasant evening!
It's been so cold today, that I sat at work wearing a woolly cardigan. The "Old Star" label is obviously having an effect. And would it really be a bad idea to bring back National Service? A bit of discipline, naked wrestling and sadistic bullying would do the youth of today the world of good ; and doesn't all this modern music sound the same these days, and don't get me started on television...
I'll "Old Star" them! "Old Star" indeed...If I was a few years younger I'd jolly well give them a good clip round the ear...

25/11/05 Jim "Chopper" Park

(Concerned friends look on as Dave is taken to hospital by ambulance.)



I've been suffering from the dreaded lurgi of late. 5 days of sore throat, runny nose and splitting headache.
I was supposed to be getting a tooth taken out this week, but had to cancel, as having post-extraction pain in addition to this bug would have been too, too much to bear.
I tried a game of 5s football. Sometimes having a bit of a sweaty workout can help.
Dave Reilly probably now wishes I hadn't played and had remained in the sick bay.
There was a loose ball...myself and Dave both went for it...it was a classic 50/50 situation. Unfortunately, Dave lost his balance in the collison and went over on his ankle. It was broken. He had to spend 5 hours at the Royal Infirmary, shivering in his football gear, before this was confirmed by the doctor.
So it's 6 weeks in plaster for him.
I've had my foot in plaster before and can clearly remember what a pain in the arse it is...as well as being a pain in the foot of course...
The simplest task, like going to the lav, assumes the rigours of a "Bush Tucker Trial" on the "I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here" TV programme, which you'd never ever catch me watching. No. Not in a million years. Absolute rubbish. I tend to read "Ulysses" by James Joyce when that show is on.
Anyway, going to the lav, showering, dressing, undressing is all a big hassle...and 6 weeks is a long, long time.
The great tragedy of this event is that Dave is such a highly active physical guy. The thought of being forced to stay at home, mucking about on the Internet, creating lists and making compilation CDs is anathema to this supreme athlete and classic "outdoors type". I just hope he gets through it ok!
I have to say that it was a fair tackle, and that Dave bears me no ill will, although I could have sworn someone who looked incredibly similar to him, mounted the pavement in his car yesterday and tried to run me over.
There's loads of people who would have a clear motive to do that, so I can't be sure it was him. It would have been difficult, though not impossible, to drive with a plaster on anyway.
I played golf this weekend at the hallowed links of Muirfield with Crabbie, Beaky and Bilbo.
These are real people, I hasten to add.
I wouldn't like you to think I was losing the plot and playing golf with imaginary "Lord of the Rings" hobbit-type characters.
In line with my recent golfing appearances, I played absolute shit. In fairness, the conditions were very difficult.
In the clubhouse, I had a light lunch of sole goujons, duck spring rolls, roast beef, boiled mutton, mashed potatoes, boiled onions, cawliflower cheese, garden peas, yourkshire pudding, horseradish sauce, baked apple sponge and bread & butter pudding with cream.
Incredibly, that's well under 3000 calories. No chance of any weight gain there. That's for sure.

21/11/05 He's Got The Look

I remember noticing a similar expression on a man's face at the "Ideal Homes Exhibition" at Ingliston, a few years ago...
What was I doing there? Well, I'd won a competition in the "Evening News" and was there to pick up my prize ; a large ball of Edam cheese (obviously).
I noticed a man demonstrating the use of a vegetable chopper to an interested group of people. It seemed very versatile, and he produced an impressive array of salads, chips, grated cheese etc...cut in a startling variety of ways.
But then he cut himself with it. Quite badly in fact.
The main purpose of the demo was to afterwards sell the device to the assembled throng...hopefully like proverbial "hot cakes".
However, his face told it all...he knew he wasn't going to sell any that day. This sooper dooper vegetable cutter had been exposed as an instrument of self-harm and mutilation. In the vegetable cutter world, it's then equivalent boost to your career progression as being labelled a serial paeodophile. Not good. Not good.
The man looked defeated, as the gathering slowly filed away.
Bob Hoskins also looked like that at the end of "The Long Good Friday".
He finds himself being driven away in a car by two IRA men ; one with a handgun trained on him in the backseat. After the initial shock, the realisation creeps into his expression that it's over for him...he's going to die and there's absolutely nothing he can do to prevent the inevitable. An eery calm comes over his face.
These scenarios came to mind as I watched Alex McLeish being interviewed after Rangers got thumped 3-0 by Celtic on Saturday.
He knows it's over for him. He's finished. It's an unpleasing spectacle to behold.
I can only assume he's hanging on in an attempt to make sure the severance terms are maximised, ie he won't resign, he'll wait to be sacked.
He should be put out of his misery as soon as possible though.
Anyway, must go, as I have to organise a "Rangers Supporters End-of-season party", ho ho ho....

20/11/05 Slightly Frazzled

(Dave and I relax with a drink before "The Stand" show begins)

I spent Thursday and Friday night at The Stand in Edinburgh. Richard Herring was headlining both nights, but Tony and Patrick, my "Park's Circus" co-accused were the support acts on Thursday and Friday respectively.
Tony had a bit of a tough one as he was constantly interrupted by a twat of a heckler who kept shouting "tits!".
Richard Herring came on. He was storming it, but at some point the same heckler piped up. This time it was "magpie tits", (RH was doing an extended monologue on "the magpie reward scheme" based on the song "M-a-a-a-g-p-i-e-e".
What followed was a glorious 20 minute sustained demolition job on the aforementioned heckler...
It was an absolutely beautiful and joyous thing and a true privilege to witness. The heckler didn't know what had hit him.
Later, I made a rather poor attempt at conversation by mentioning that I liked his Blog, to which he replied "thanks", then continued another conversation.
I felt slightly starstruck and also a bit of an arse. I just couldn't think of anything "worthy" enough to say, so made my excuses and left. (I was a bit drunk anyway, so wasn't really capable of producing any stimulating witticisms).
The next night, I attended with David and Anne Reilly. Patrick had a stormer. Andy Askins, a musical act from Middlesborough, also blew the roof off.
Unfortunately RH had a bad night. It just wasn't his kind of audience. They were going for quickfire gags and one-liners rather than extended surreal monologue stuff. It's a sobering thought that such a top comedian and one of my all-time comedy heroes can still have such a tough night at a comedy club.
I was slightly disappointed that there wasn't a heckler, as I would have loved to see a repeat performance of his spontaneous heckler destruction routine.
Another interesting observation of the evening was that I was in the company of Dave Reilly for approximately four and a half hours, and at no point in this time did he buy a CD. I phoned the "News of the World" straight after the show. They were reluctant to believe me and said they'd send a reporter round to check out my story.
(read his blog at http://www.crispycat.co.uk/ to study his CD addiction!)
After the show Patrick, myself, Richard and Chris (The Stand soundman) went to the next door casino and drank till 4.30am. I didn't gamble at all, although it might have been a good idea if I had, as it might have reduced my drinking rate.
I didn't feel very clever the next day, that's for sure.
It was a very enjoyable evening though, with high quality banter in evidence. I did feel a bit of a shameless ligger though...but hey...I got a hangover as a fitting punishment.

13/11/05 Naked Charity Calendars

As it's coming up to Xmas, we can expect to see a further plethora of Naked Calendars featuring normal members of the public posing in their birthday suits for charity.
I think this trend has now run its course.
I mean, is it just me, or has the sight of a village butcher coyly hiding his cock behind a strategically placed black-pudding lost some, if not all, of its mystique?
Can I suggest that if you are thinking of producing a calendar of this type, that you try to be a bit more outrageous?
There have been so many of the "funny" playful nudey ones, that you really have to up the ante somewhat, (there's a joke there somewhere isn't there?)
If it's the Womens Institute, I'd suggest hiring a couple of long haired male Hungarian porn stars to be photographed in an act of union with a prominent institute lady as she bends over naked, cutting cake shapes in some rolled out pastry.
Perhaps Mrs March could fellate an antelope while stirring a pot of home made lentil soup? Have I taken this too far? Am I losing my audience here?
I just think we have to be a little more outrageous to shock 21st Century Britain.
Perhaps, an alternative charity calendar could involve the models being wrapped up like Egyptian mummies in bandages, but with their gentialia being the only visible parts of their anantomy as they poke through strategic gaps in the bandaging.
That would be slightly different.
I noticed that the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq was doing a series of photo shoots for an unusual "Al Quaeda" naked charity calendar earlier in the year...
I'm not sure if it has been commercially released yet though. It could be a winner!

12/11/05 River City

"it's smiles all round as the cast of "River City" relax after a hard days filming!"
 

I'm certainly not an expert in acting, as my previous performances in the sphere of amateur drama have amply demonstrated.
For instance, who could ever remember my stunning portrayal of the Greek warrior, King Agamemnon in "Ion"? No-one of course...
People still talk in hushed tones, (in case I overhear them slagging me off) of how I took on 5 (yes, FIVE...count 'em) separate roles on a modern re-working of "The Canterbury Tales", but managed to come across as the same character in all of them, due to my un-chameleon like acting prowess.
Then there was my riveting portayal of Indio, one of the Sharks in "West Side Story" . I still wince and occasionally wake up in a cold sweat when I recall my dancing entrance onto the stage....In my head I was "George Chakiris", but to the audience it was probably more "Charlie Drake".
Anyway, in spite of all this, I feel I have to deliver a damning judgement on the standard of acting in the BBC Scotland soap "River City".
Yesterday, for the first time, I watched a whole episode ...
One of the best tips I ever heard about acting was to consciously "listen" to what the other actors were saying, and react accordingly. This may seem obvious. However, if you go to see a ropey amateur play, you often see people on stage who don't convince simply because they are just standing around waiting for the cue to say their line, and are not acting naturally.
This happens a lot in "River City". You can see them anticipating what's going to happen next, and it often feels like they are reading their lines from an autocue.
There are a few seasoned old pros who rise above this criticism, but some of the younger players are fairly desperate.
not that I'm one to criticise though....

11/11/05 Council Practical Joke Shock

I definitely need to lose a little weight. I can hardly get into my car these days. 

I was driving out of town towards the Forth Road Bridge. I saw a sign indicating that the outside lane would be closed in 600 yards due to road works.
You couldn't see exactly where the lane stopped as I was driving uphill and the work was going on over the brow of it.
I then went into "imminent one lane shutdown" mode.
This involves driving too close to the car in front, in order to stop queue-jumpers sneaking in too easily. I also like to scowl aggressively at those who race past in the outside lane intent on keeping there until the lane stops, then barging their way into the inside lane.
This situation is unsurpassed in bringing out the worst instincts in the driving classes. I'm surprised there aren't more "one lane shutdown" murders to report. It maybe gets hushed up by sinister civil servants to prevent countrywide unrest?
Anyway, as the line of traffic ambled slowly over the brow of the hill, it became apparent that there were no roadworks going on at all, and both lanes were open all the way out to Cramond.
All that angst and bad temper was totally unnecessary.
The bad guys who stick to the outside lane as long as humanly possible couldn't have been able to believe their luck, as they just kept going on an on, leaving the conscientious "knights of the road" crawling along for 10 minutes at 3mph.
Was this a joke by the Council roadplanner type people?
Was a scene being filmed for a new series of "Beadle's About"?
I suppose the good thing is that I'm now primed, and am unlikely to fall for another one of the Council's traffic practical jokes.
If for instance I see a sign telling traffic to reduce speed to 0.3 mph for the next 5 miles, or another sign insisting that drivers should have a small liquorice pipe in their mouths before joining the dual carriageway ; then I shall view them with suspicion and won't immediately comply with their request...
You fool me once, shame on you, you fool me again, shame on me...or so they say
"Nothing tastes as good as slim feels", (I heard someone say that on the radio today. It's quite a good mantra I suppose...)

10/11/05 Elected

There was fever pitch excitement around Coates/Murrayfield last night as the Edinburgh Council by-election took place.
There were literally several people hanging around the polling centre as I made my way to vote.
You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.
In fact, somebody did, and it created a strange continual hissing noise in the background as I cast my vote. I found this quite offputting, but carried on anyway.
It was a straight 2-way fight between the Tories and Lib-Dems. I voted Lib-Dem. I actually had one of the Lib-Dem helpers knocking on my door at 8.00pm asking me to vote. It was obviously going to be close.
The Tories won though.
I suspected as much, as the candidate looked a bit full of himself as I earlier passed him outside the polling centre.
On reading the results, I noticed that the UKIP (UK Independence Party) candidate had polled a massive 4 votes.
I was going to make a few cheeky remarks about the candidate, but read his website and found out he had a distinguished military career and has a red beret.
Therefore, I obviously don't want to annoy him too much, thus prompting a visit to my flat to hit me on the back of the head with one of these karate chops that Steed was occasionally fond of administering in "The Avengers", and in the process, killing me dead instantly.
But I have to say 4 votes is a spectacularly bad result.
I presume one of the votes was cast by himself...so that cuts it down to 3.
I would be having second-thoughts about embarking on a career in front-line politics. in light of this result.

07/11/05 Cliffhanger

Jim guffaws in the face of danger as he climbs a treacherous cliff face 600ft above a raging sea WITHOUT ropes. 

06/11/05 Not Very Good

I had a fairly mediocre gig at The Stand last night. I felt a bit rough before I went on.I'd not slept well the the previous night due to bad toothache, and was feeling a little spaced out. Not that I'm making excuses or anything.
Of course a few people I knew took the opportunity to come along and witness my sub-standard performance.
There was David and his rather odd sidekick Sandy, as well as Alex and Sue. I knew it wasn't that great a show. I didn't "die" as such, but the laughter was rather sparse, and I wasn't mobbed by a crowd of screaming female fans at the end of my set, as is usually the case. It just wasn't happening on that level for me at all.
I always know when aquaintances think I was poor. It's when the first thing they say is "You're really brave...". (that's what Sue said)
My blood runs cold when I hear that. It's the worst thing you can say to me. I'd much rather you just said you thought I was rubbish.
I mean, let's be clear about this. In the great scheme of things, it's NOT "really brave" at all. Maybe the first ever time requires a bit of bottle, but after that the fear evaporates to a large extent. Although, there's always a certain degree of nervousness before you go on, but you probably need that to sharpen up the performance.
I've done about 90 gigs now. The rough stats are ; approximately 15 have been absolutely fantastic, about the same again were devastatingly awful and the other 60 have been good, but not outstanding.
This gig definitely found a place in the bottom section.
You just have to take it on the chin, but it is slightly annoying that the people I knew who came along will retain a fairly jaundiced view of my abilities.
It's an injustice, it is. It's an injustice...

05/11/05 Chain Reaction

Today, myself and 4 of me old samba muckers took on the "Elie Chain Walk" and lived to tell the tale.
This is a coastal walk in Elie in Fife, whereby you clamber along the crags and cliffs of the coastline using strategically fixed chains to assist your progress.
It's pretty easy, but a fall could still be fairly disastrous as you would likely bounce on your head a couple of times on the jaggy crags before plopping into the sea ; thus cleverly recreating the notorious death of Piggy in William Golding's hilarious, light-hearted romp, "Lord Of The Flies".
I had to get up to 6am on a Saturday morning to participate in this event, which in itself is a feat of wonderment and daring.
I have to say though that the early morning sunrise and light was fantastic, and it really is worth the effort to crawl out of bed that early to experience it. Particularly, at this time of year where we are steadily descending into perpetual darkness.
After completing the course we dined and took beer at the "Ship Inn", sitting in front of a roaring log fire.
I just had a couple of pints, (as well as a half pint of Pimms and lemonade. Apparently this is "the only pub in Scotland with draught Pimms". This surprised me, as I'd always imagined there would be a massive demand for this product in Airdrie)
We then visited a cake shop.
For some reason I asked for a "stick" of Chocolate Orange Cake rather than a "slice".
It was a peculiar dyslexic moment that I could only put down to lack of sleep, the sea air and 2 pints of beer at an unseemly early time in the day.
There was a brief hiatus before everybody started giggling uncontrollably. This went on for about 10 minutes outside, and I was in severe pain from laughing at the end of it. I haven't laughed as hard as that since I inadvertently caught a bit of Status Quo "acting themselves" on Coronation Street.
On the way back I apparently snored like a wild boar in the back seat of the car.
Then I opened a bottle of cider, while the wheels went round. Great.

03/11/05 Danny Boy

I was heading in an easterly direction towards the Traverse bar when I passed a few mature, matronly ladies outside the Usher Hall.
It was 10pm, and the presence of sleeping bags and camp beds led me to the inescapable conclusion that they were intending staying the night at this spot.
My curiosity got the better of me and I strode towards them and asked what the queue was for.
There was an uncomfortable pause in which I was scrutinised by the assembled group.
I got the impression that the sentiment they were conveying was, "If you laugh and/or make a smartass remark about the information we are about to relay to you, vis-a-vis your verbal request, we shall take it upon ourselves to punch your lights out and leave you bleeding and concussed on the Lothian Road pavement"
The spokesman of the group then responded "Daniel O'Donnell".
I managed to keep a straight face, saying "Oh, ok, thank you", and then moved away from the scene.
I did feel a bit sorry for them as they were undoubtedly going to attract cheeky remarks from passing members of the great British public.
They'd obviously miscalculated the demand for tickets, as no more than 6 people had decided that an overnight vigil was necessary to secure precious briefs for Mr O'Donnell's show.
Still, at least they were guaranteed seats in the middle of the front row.
Well, I hope so anyway. There is always a danger of skullduggery involving highly prized tickets. Maybe the box office staff have secretly reserved the front two rows for a batallion of their aunties.
Is this a sign that Daniel's appeal is on the wane? Only 6 people willing to camp overnight for tickets?
Are the glory days over?
He sounds like the type of person I should invite to my next barbecue.
The publicity he gets might re-launch his faltering career, and I might get a support slot on his tour telling stories of cheeky, heartwarming family kerfuffles.

30/10/05 Friends Reunited

Ok, the blog a day thing isn't going to happen any more (sob!).
The trouble is when you're chained to a PC as an IT slave for 12 hours a day; the last thing you want to do is go home, log on and work at a different PC.
It's not as if there is much hilarious banter to be had anyway. It would just be a dreary series of essays on pain, tedium and the unbearable shiteness of being.
On a happier note I had a barbecue today for many of my ancient friends whom I haven't had the pleasure of seeing for many moons.
It was a splendid day, the joint was jumpin', and I "enjoyed" the whole thing so much it so much that I decided to go to bed long before the last guests left.
I was puzzled by this. I mean, it wasn't exactly like I was drinking all day...ah, although actually,come to think of it... I was, ...hmmm...
I suspect this act may be regarded with dismay by afficianados of social etiquette, and "doing the right thing" in any given situation.
However, it has to be said a few of my old friends never replied to my invitation, then didn't show up. I even had a couple of "texts" during the barbecue with a brief note saying they weren't coming.
As I know very well myself, the SMS message is the classic sneaky form of communication which precludes actually having to speak to the recipient. I use it all the time. But you're not allowed to do this to ME. That's different.
This is an outrage.
I didn't get where I am today by not replying to a barbecue invitiation and not turning up.
This is how Nazi germany started in the 1930s.
First of all it's shunning the barbecue, then it's a fiendish plot for global conquest and genocide.
I've now reluctantly decided to look on Ebay for new "old" friends.
Hopefully, I might be able to trade in my existing ones? Although, in reality, I may not get very much for them. Still, no harm in asking.
I'm mainly looking for people that laugh at my jokes and say things like "I've seen the future of comedy, and it's you". (obviously this has to be uttered without a trace of sarcasm, and I will hold "trials" to test potential friends to check their sincerity levels. So don't think I'll get fooled easily)
They'd also have to knock on my door occasionally, and ask if I'd like them to go the shops for me, and things like that.
Other than that, they should be kind to children and animals, be interested in world travel and don't say things like "do you know what I mean?" after every sentence, and not turn up more late to things than I do if we've arranged to meet.
There is a saying "you can choose your friends, but you can't choose your relatives".
Now, this is true to a certain extent, but as you get older, you are stuck somewhat with the friends you've accumulated so far in your life journey.
I think I might be viewed with suspicion if I told someone that I didn't currently have any friends as I had traded them all in for new ones, and I hadn't tested the new ones yet.
I'm torn. What should I do?
Is anyone interested in doing a friend swap?