Working

Today's blog is a mostly visual one on account of me not having a lot to type about. Its odd but these last few days I have got large amounts of much needed work done, which has, as a consequence, affected blog abilities, tweeting, facebooking and any other activity that I usually revel in. I wouldn't like to put two and two together and get four, mostly because I am of the school of thought where that should become 22. Thats because you said 'put them together' and not 'add them together'. Its very different and you should really think about how you say things otherwise should the opportunity for a magic lamp wish appear its highly likely that you will end up wishing for yourself to be more happy only to be transformed into one of the seven dwarfs. I imagine most genies to be total bastards who would do such things. They have been trapped in a lamp for years, and if I was in a similar lamp captive situation I'd be a total shit to anyone too. So, what I'm saying is, whether I like it or not, my lack of tweeting etc has given me more productivity elsewhere. I don't want to entirely blame my work on not using the net as much as usual and there is a small chance it may be down to other things. Lately, for example, I've eaten a large amount of artichoke hearts. I'm not sure why, but recently its what I've enjoyed eating a lot. I think there is a subliminal carnivore in me that knows that that is the closest I will ever get to eating meat, and within weeks I'll probably be chewing on potato eyes and ears of corn. I don't think artichokes posses any kind of amazing brain boosting abilities, but if it isn't artichokes, then is has to be the internet.


I'm not sure what I'll do if it turns out to be what it obviously is and the cause of all my procrastination is the web. I could try and persuade everyone to stop using Facebook and Twitter till I get all my work done. I don't feel that would be too selfish. It is the season of goodwill after all, although I do keep felling that if there is ever a time of year when people get angry its now. In fact, despite this whole Xmas 'festive' thing, people are generally shit around now. Its a combination of shitty weather, shitty crowds, shitty spending money you don't have on presents that aren't for you, and that its shittily not quite close enough to you getting off work. What everyone forgets as they barge past each other with resentment, is that they should be bloody happy now as January is worse when they all go back to work, still poor from Xmas present giving, fatter than they were and with even shittier weather. Oh except January does have my birthday in it, so I think its awesome.


So anyway, for the last few days, my generally stealth demeanor has been because I've been getting a new showreel done which is now here. Have a look and please rate/comment/pass on to people who want short bearded diabetics for their telly and film things. I know thats the trend in films at the moment so I'm sure to get something soon. Here it is:



For thems on Facebook where it just deletes video links as though there were never there, in some sort of covert CIA type way, here's the direct link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyYdAJDzFHQ


The other thing I did was another Dave cartoon strip. For anyone who didn't see the last one, its here:

http://tiernandouieb.blogspot.com/2009/11/under-sea.html

And here's the new one:




Lastly, if you are worried about January being horribly miserable then why not come along to this:

http://www.etceteratheatre.com/page.php?pageID=2#show5

Yes its terrible self-promotion, but its my blog and I can cry if I want to. I don't want to cry, I'm relatively happy. So instead I harass you with links for things. I'm now going to do more work.

Snow Joke

'Ooh look its snowing' says everyone this morning, which is both observational and correct. Its nice to know the country is not sitting in no windowed rooms staring at the TV all day. Without meaning to sound all miserable and that, I'd really rather the snow waited till next week to happen. Not for Christmas or anything, but more because I have gigs this week and places to drive to which will no doubt all get cancelled if the snow gets worse, because everyone decides its an easy excuse to bunk off. I fully agree with this ethos, but not getting sick or holiday pay, if I can't get to Leeds on Friday then someone doesn't get a Christmas present. Simple as. So as a note to my family: if you want gifts, you'd better start gritting all the roads. Get going.


Thats possibly the most negative start I've had to a blog all year. I blame it on the fact that I'm getting a new showreel done today which means I spent a large amount of time yesterday watching footage of my own face. I hate watching me at the best of times. I often feel like having to sit infront of a mirror when getting my hair cut is some kind of evil mind game involving me getting so bored of my own face I will state that any haircut I get is fine just so I can leave. Therefore watching hours of my own face, doing bits of videos that I no longer like or feel have any credibility, feels as though it could be used as some sort of Guantanamo Bay type torture. Admittedly I think inmates might think they would have preferred that to water boarding, but they haven't seen how stilted I was on the Orange TV pilot. Excuse me while I retch thinking about it. I don't like having to go through things that I've done and state which best I'm best in, although at the same time I don't trust anyone else to do it. My parents would probably say it was all good. Layla would choose all the bits she liked which I would no doubt think were rubbish, and the cats would just scratch all the DVDs. I'm not sure why I'd even contemplate asking the cats in the first place, but that's what watching your own face for hours does to you. The worst was choosing music for the 'montage bit'. Ideally I'd like A Tribe Called Quest's 'Oh My God!' because it has the line 'When's the last time you heard a funky diabetic?' in it, but somehow I felt it might be inappropriate for casting directors. Ultimately I wanted something that said cheeky, and yet clever and versatile. So I settled for a recording of white noise and some subliminal messages that flash up and say 'hire me' every 20 seconds. Thats clearly a joke but as I type it I wonder if that would be a brilliant plan. Then I'd get hired for all sorts of telly things and the only person who could stop me would be Derren Brown as he would remain unaffected.


Must now go and edit my face lots at the place where they are going to make the previously mentioned showreel. I shall put on my snowboots and venture out.

I'm Going Slightly Mad

I'm sure everyone has those days when they have a small moment of clarity and express genuine concern about their own state of mental health. Today is my one of those days. It was only as I woke up and got out of bed that I realised I had spent the entirety of yesterday wearing my boxer shorts back to front. I realise that I have given various pieces of information there that many would not be privvy to usually, such as my choice of underwear and also that I do pretty much only sleep in my pants. I have pretty much only ever worn boxers as I think that no matter how ungainly your naked body looks, boxers have the ability to make you like slightly less of an idiot. Y-Fronts however exceed in boosting your bodily deformities to the highest extent. Were you a man of geeky, skinny build then Y-fronts will somehow suck even more weight off you, making you appear to be Mr Muscle's bitch, someone who might snap in two if you stubbed your toe. At the same time, if you are, like myself, teetering way past your BMI limit, then y-fronts have the magical ability to give you membership to the official naked troll club. The only way y-fronts can work is if you are a big hella hunk of man and even then its only if you don't have your name sewn into the insides incase you lose them at the gym. So boxers it is, and I have never worn boxers back to front before ever. It did strike me as odd yesterday when, in need of (to put this as uncrudly as possible) a widdle (that didn't work. Shouldve stayed with piss or slash. Damn) it took an unnecessary degree of fumbling to find the buttons for the er front bit and in the end I gave up and used a certain degree of contortion. I have never bought boxers without a front bit or without buttons on, and yet I fully accepted that this pair didn't have any. At the same time I couldn't understand why it was slightly uncomfortable sitting down all day, failing to realise that I was pressing my arse into some the same tiny buttons that were missing from the front. There is no reasonable explanation for this other than perhaps my own deterioration of mind.

Other things have caused a level of worry too. There was this morning when I went in and out of the house 5 times due to me leaving various different things inside that I needed with me, only to find three of them were on my person the whole time. Once or twice is forgivable. But five times? Five times? It managed to do that magical comedy thing whereby I laughed at myself the first time, felt irritated at the next three and then by the fifth was a giggling wreck at my own incompetence. That aside, the other reason for my anxiety is that yesterday was the fourth time lately I have been told that work I do for people doesn't pay much cash but I will get hugs. Now I am far from an anti-hug merchant. Hugs are pretty important and I like a good hug as and when necessary. Only from people that are deemed hug worthy mind you. Anyone who squeezes too firmly or weakly is gone, as is anyone who smells or I just hate the sight of. All of you do not get hugs. But generally hugs are good. I am also, I would say, an expert hugger. Some people just know exactly how hugs should be carried out and I feel I mastered this at an early age. If there were badges that said 'hugging master' then I would hug them. Some might say hugs make the world go round. Those people are idiots who have not studied science properly, and I class them in the same band as fuckwit creationists. But despite my appreciation of said embrace, they are not an accepted method of payment. Hugs will not get me food or pay my bills. I doubt if I hugged the man at Tesco's or the gas man that it would change that either. Why would you think you can get away with paying for people in hugs too? My only thought is that rumour is going round that I have Downs Syndrome. While not meaning to be disrespectful to anyone that does, they are the only people that might appreciate such payment. I worry that backstage at gigs acts and promoters discuss how I will do a whole 30 minute set for a hug but they have to be careful as I'm stronger than I look. Either that or they believe I am some sort of soft toy, cue several jokes about stuffing. I am neither of those things. Money please. Any hugs that follow are a bonus. For you.


The last hint of my madness was when I went to see As It Occurs To Me, Richard Herring's live podcast, at the Leicester Square Theatre last night. I have a full memory that I purchased a ticket, and remember seeing the confirmation webpage but as I arrived at the theatre they assured me that no such thing had ever happened. I went back to check through my emails and no confirmation email appeared. Luckily Andrew Collins came to rescue and had a spare so I got to see the show in the end which was a relief. Its been a great series of 10 podcasts and I've really enjoyed listening to them on my way back from gigs in the middle of nowhere so it was great to see the last one live. Without meaning to ruin any of the podcast should you not have listened to it yet, its a brilliant last show and I'm very glad that Rich will be bringing it back in 2010.


Lastly, to prove I'm not mental, here's one of the words I recorded a definition for on Wordia.com. I am mental on purpose here and that means I can't actually be loony. Or maybe it means I am super loony. Oh dear. Either way, enjoy:

Multi-blog

Today's blog is split up into mini-blogs. This is because today's blog arrives later than most and my brain has had time to wake up. Usually I write this blog as the first thing I do in the day. Admittedly that's not until about 1pm, but still by that point in the morning (its still morning then because I said so) I'm a bit sleepy so can only cope with one or on good days two things to blog about and think of words for. I've already done work type stuff today so I've been thinking loads of things. It doesn't mean this blog will be any better than usual. Far from it. It will probably be a diluted ball of the same amount of words just loosely dangled over many things. To make life more exciting for you the topics will not be in chronological order, and will range between some longer ones and some shorter ones. Strap in blogees, for the multi-blog!


SQUEAKQUEL

The film trailer for Alvin the Chipmunks 2 states 'There have been sequels, there have been prequels but there has never been a...SQUEAKQUEL!' Do you know why there has never been a squeakquel voice over man? Because it is the shittest most horrible word anyone has ever made. Its got two Q's in it fr fuck's sake! You can't even write it in scrabble. Not only that but the film is a sequel. Its part 2. That means your squeakquel is still a sequel. You haven't thought it through at all. It looks like a heap of chipmunk toss too, summed up by the man in the cinema sitting behind me merely saying 'that looks wrong on so many different levels'. I'm not sure what levels they are but I assume one is a squeakevel. Idiots. This film was only saved by the St Trinians 2 trailer that appeared after it which temporarily burned my eyes with its radioactive levels of mediocrity. NO ONE LIKED THE FIRST FILM! THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU GET ANOTHER GO!


IF YOU CAN'T BEAT THEM, JOIN THEM

The man at the till in HMV yesterday had a sad expression. There was a large tent in the courtyard of the Islington N1 centre blasting out endless Christmas music. As with all shopping areas and large public displays around this time of year, it didn't play any interesting Christmas tracks, like anything from James Brown's Funky Christmas, the Leisure Society's 'Last of the Melting Snow', or anything from Surfjan Stevens Xmas album. No, instead it played Slade, Wizard and Mariah Carey to the point where shoppers were getting angry and more irritated, staff were getting more angry and irritated and even the DJ looked as though he felt like couldn't inflict this sort of pain on the planet for much longer.

Luckily I have the ability to move and so was only subject to aural rape for so long, whereas HMV man was unable to escape his little corner only a few meters from the jingle playing tent of Christmas gloom. He started packing my purchases and I decided that I would reach out and speak to him, hopefully bring some joy to his day. 'Simply having a wonderful Christmas time' rang out and I asked him how many times he had heard it that day. He replied with 'Too many'. I offered commiserations. He chuckled and then, he suddenly burst into song and sang along with it. He gave me the bag with my DVDs in and said with a big grin 'Well if you can't beat them join them!' I smiled back and as I walked out though that maybe he was right. He has shown strength in the face of adversity. Perhaps Christmas music has been sent to test our willpower. It would explain why year after year every track has that special something that takes it from being just a music track to instead a specific type of mental torture. Maybe some Christmas tracks started out ok and quite nice and executives knew that would not be enough to cause its listeners to be disgruntled and five years olds to think its great, and so they added the sound of bells ringing until all its test subjects felt the need to barge into each other and complain about the time of year. Then as I reached the tent where the DJ was I thought no. The HMV man was wrong. We should just beat them. With big pointed sticks.


AITOM

I'm going to the last of Richard Herring's As It Occurs To Me shows tonight. Hooray and yey.



X-FACTOR FINAL

Or as Terry Saunders wonderfully put it on Twitter (@terrysaunders) 'Some cunt won some thing'. I hated it. I hated all of it vocally and most importantly, online. Layla asked me, as for the umpteenth time I stared at the screen and shouted 'fuck off' as the losers from last year appeared dressed in women's clothes and told people to put their hands up if they liked moronic music, why on earth I was watching it then. I also saw someone on Facebook say the worst thing about Twitter was that people they liked watched programs they hate. Well to both Layla and that person, its partly because we only have one telly and Layla wanted to watch it. I was sat at the laptop across the room but its nicer sitting next to my girlfriend on the sofa. The real reason though is that it provides comedy fuel. I hate so many aspects of the manufactured pop karaoke nightmare that is X-Factor, but I bet you Twitter is a damn sight less funny next weekend with the lack of animosity that X-Factor brought to it. Sad to see you go X-Factor. I do hope lots of repulsive idiots with no personality and an uninteresting standard way of singing all audition next year to keep me hating.


MY JOKE ON A T-SHIRT!



I won this as part of the #tweeshirt competition from Clothes2order.com on Twitter the week before last (@clothes2order). I am very pleased with it although can't help but feel wearing my own joke on a tshirt might make me appear more than a tad vain. On the other hand I'm considering wearing it at gigs and just pointing to it when I want a break. Maybe I should get jokes printed on all my clothes and do a dance like those women did to that Daft Punk song? I've struck comedy gold here people. Comedy bloody gold.


TINY BAUBLES

Layla has bought some more tiny baubles for our Christmas tree. DOES SHE NOT REALISED THESE ARE EVEN EASIER FOR THE CATS TO REMOVE AND DESTROY? Today I have found two baubles in one of my socks, one bauble in my bath and one in the bath. WHEN WILL THE MADNESS END?


THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

They are proper dicks. Firstly the mass child abuse scandal in Ireland, and now it said in today's papers that they stopped the production of the next two Dark Materials films because they 'promoted atheism'. Yes the latter pales in comparison to the former, but it still just adds a notch onto its most fundamentalist believers being a pile of dicks. I suggest that next time any film with a strong Catholic film, say the next Narnia tale, is in production, all atheists should protest about its strong Catholic theme. Perhaps complain that if children see it it will unfairly make them believe in nonsense and they may be swayed to spend hours of their life hugely naive.


WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE

I saw this yesterday. I liked it lots, but cant say I loved it. It could be partly because they have got a full film from a 10 page book which means large parts of it felt like filler. Or it could be because I just couldn't work out what the film's message was at the end of it. This could be because I'm an idiot. I did however love the soundtrack. Well done Karen O. I also loved Max's monster suit and I have decided I want one.


WORDIA

I did some filming for Wordia.com today. I won't tell you all the words as I will be posting links around to them all over the place when they go online. However, one of the words I wrote a joke about yesterday. Feel free to use this as your Christmas joke for this year:

Q: How do you make a christingle?
A: Tickle his nads.



End of multi-blog. I hope that like multi-grain cereals you found it nutritious. Or at least like I find multi-grain cereals, with too much milk and now its all soggy but you can drink it like a shit milkshake. A shitshake.

Telly Hell

Proper blog today. Although it could easily be have been three paragraphs of me trying to figure out what random brain disease caused the British Comedy Awards to give Peter Kay the Oustanding Achievement in Comedy Award. I suppose it is an outstanding achievement that a man has released the same stand-up set on three different DVD's which basically screams 'stupid fucking idiots' at his fans, thats he's who's only written one good TV show, which was co-written by two other people that Kay never gives credit too, and that he's repeatedly has treated other performers with the same disregard as he might for a side order to pizza that no one else finds funny ever, is somehow still treated with respect. Its a shame, as unlike in previous years the BCA's seemed to only partly shit on comedy this year. There were well deserved awards to Graham Linehan, Psychoville and In The Loop, all proving that decent comedy is respected. I was particularly pleased with In The Loop as it showed that someone out there realises intelligent political comedy with a very funny script and great acting is superior to Sacha Baron Cohen showing his ballsack to people. Who would've thought? Of course I'd also have liked to have seen Stewart Lee get the best Live Stand-Up Comedian, but sadly we all knew it was going to McIntyre. I'm by no means a fan of McIntyre, but he is very good at what he does. Its just a shame what he does is saccharine-fueled family friendly unchallenging toss. Layla actually cringes when he's on telly. Its an amazing thing to see, like a someone being stared at by Medusa. She all sort of seizes up and pulls faces as though she's just been forced to suck lemons. She says its his voice. And face. And hair. Either way, it pleases me lots.


I'm getting into this whole Saturday night staying in, eating and watching telly type thing. It makes me feel almost like a normal person. Sadly I've realised that aside from the Thick Of It, the average normal person is horribly patronised by large amounts of torrid viewing on a Saturday night. Last night the viewing flicked between watching not every famous people dance, and people who will soon be not very famous, sing. The soon to not be famous singers had the luck, last night, of singing with famous but needing a career boost singers. The girl who is a live action version of Disney's Goofy got to sing with Michael Buble, who is quite possibly the most creepy human being on the planet. He appears to something wrong with his face that means even when he's singing happy songs, he appears to be imagining how he might commit some sort of prejudiced violence. He was only out creeped by George Michael who looks ever more and more like he could be running a dodgy kebab shop. He got to sing with an androgynous child who no doubt wishes he was grooming, while Robbie Williams sang with himself but with a slightly swollen face. Then some other people all slapped each other on the back lots and Simon Cowell dipped his cock into a pot of money as other idiots spent money calling in to say boygirl and bigface were better than stupid one.


Then there was the British Comedy Awards, followed by the aftershow party on ITV2 which was hosted by some woman who didn't know anything about comedy, or presenting, or cameras, or holding her face still. There was also Leigh Francis as Keith Lemon trying his best to suck humour from the atmosphere like a comedy vacuum. Yet I still watched. I watched all of these programs and ate a baked potato while doing so. Next Saturday I am gigging. While it might be seen that I am entertaining those who have chosen to have a night out, I think infact they are saving my brain from stopping oxygen flow to itself in order to drown out the televisual horrors I've submitted it too.


Wow, today's blog was angry. It wasn't meant to be. I'm going to see Where The Wild Things Are later today which has got me very excited. Especially as I've been looking for them for ages.

Blog Fail

My internets are broken. I can only assume one has a hole in or something. As a result there is no blog today. Easy cop out you might say but I'll have you know my law enforcement team are not easy. It's all because typing on my iPhone makes me angry, I've eaten a lot and I'm sleepy. As alternatives to bloggery today why not re-read yesterday's which was worth two blogs? Or watch some videos of Tony Law as I gigged with him yesterday. You can pretend what I may write about how awesome he was. Or you could go to iPlayer and listen to the latest installment of the Tom Craine show from BBC Bristol Radio featuring yours truly (ie me), Tom himself and Jared Hardy. It's rather good.

Tomorrow there shall be blogs aplenty. Unless there is still a hole in the web and the world wide sider hasn't fixed it.

The Myway Code

I'm sure sometimes many of you are driving along and you see a road sign and you think 'well I haven't looked at the highway code in many years, what does it mean?' Well as an extensive driver myself, I have taken it upon myself to update you all in what some of those more obscure signs mean and how they can help you to navigate the British roads that little bit better and safer. We'll start with two I saw last night:


FOG PATCHES - This is an advertisement that was ok'd by the government back in the 60s after far too many people had become addicted to mist. For a while mist filters were handed out but it was discovered that this did not help for those that were heavily addicted to cut down. They would merely have extra mist to make up for what was filtered out. After some later discoveries in science, fog patches were created to help people to wean themselves off mist. The natural development would be from fog patches to small bags of hot breath until eventually they no longer felt any addiction.


SALT SPREADING - a general public warning. Salt is spreading. It started at Salt Lake City in the USA and is gradually making its way around the world. There has been a rapid increase during the winter months and certain towns and villages may become completely invaded by salt. If you see this warning near where you live, proceed to cover your house in wall to wall slugs to stop the salt from infiltrating your living space.


KEEP APART TWO CHEVRONS - Chevrons, much like Chinese Fighting Hamsters, are particularly violent creatures when in each others company. A single chevron would make a rather lovely pet. Its arrow like head often making it seem as though it is smiling. However two Chevrons together looks more like army insignia and therefore they tend to bite at each other until they both lie dead.


MAJOR ROAD WORKS - This is a memorial to Major Road Works who was one of the most influential leaders in the British Territorial Army during the blitz in World War 2. Many paths were damaged by falling doodlebugs but Major Road Works was very quick to repair all transport routes, until one day he sadly died falling backwards over a traffic cone and into a mine. If you see this sign whilst driving, the correct procedure is to remove hands from the steering wheel and salute.


ROAD ACCIDENT 40MPH/50MPH/60MPH etc - This signifies exactly how many Men Per Horse have been injured in the aforementioned accident. As is well known, most motorway accidents are caused by joy riding equestrians, with sometimes up to 70 Men Per Horse injured in any particularly violent pile-ups. It often occurs when a group, perhaps a fox hunting pack of toffs, attempt to leap over all three lanes of cars at once, often failing and dying instantly.


LOW BRIDGE AHEAD - Sometimes, as we all do, bridges get pretty sad. Especially those over troubled water. When driving under or over a low bridge, please wind down your window and offer it words of encouragement. Suggestions include 'there there, you traverse the gap between two points very well'.


GIVE WAY - There is a general way shortage every since Little Miss Muffett eat most of them, whilst curds tend to be in full supply. If you have spare way, you can donate it here into small boxes by the signs.


HIDDEN DIP - Somewhere near this sign is some carefully disguised dip. Depending on the area it may by a savoury dip, such as hummus or cream cheese and chives or if you're especially lucky, it may be a sweet dip such as sherbert or chocolate fondue. The correct procedure if you're lucky enough to stumble upon one of those is to immediately stop the car in the middle of the road and go and have a looksie for your treat.


P - This area has been sponsored by the letter P, the number 12 and the number 6.


That's all for now. Safe driving kids! Although if you are a kid, you shouldn't be driving.