Fringe Day 12: Three Lions and One Small Bear

I'm typing today's blog wearing shorts, a tshirt and my trainers. This much information may already be way too much for some of you to handle and I'd like to apologise for the lack of warning about a possible sexytime blog. More likely however, several of you are sitting there thinking 'Douieb you cad, its Edinburgh, when should anyone ever wear shorts in the arctic capital of arcticness?' Well, query masters, the answer is: when you are about to go and play as part of the comedians team in the Comedians vs Critics football match organised by Amnesty International. Football? Moi? Surely those two things go together as well as fire and someone's face? Well, yes. You are right again. God you're good today. Luckily there shall be no faces on fire to compere my day to today, so it will merely be one small beardy man struggling to ever get the ball for 45 minutes and when he does, persist in kicking it massively in the wrong direction as hard as he possibly can. I've never been very good at football, seemingly having the foot-eye co-ordination of someone with no feet. Or eyes. This became evident fairly quickly at a young age, where as we would queue up to be picked for certain teams, whoever was left with me as last in the line alongside the truly stupid/slow/fat/dead kids, would insist on sighing very loudly and trying to pick one of the others first despite knowing they would be too busy picking their nose and eating it to ever chase a football. This was a suitable team mate than me, who would run around occasionally kicking someone's shin and then booting the ball over a fence. I'm like the soccer Tazmanian Devil. Or something.


This afternoon should be fun though, as if I'm gonna kick in anyone's shins, at least it'll be a critic's. The game is also taking place at the Meadowbank stadium which I'm fairly sure will be pretty hard to boot the ball over. I mean, if I do, then I'll probably deserve some kudos rather than dismay. Maybe. Its also all for a very very good cause - the freedom of Burmese comic Zarganar, who is imprisoned for 35 years because he spoke out against the Burmese government. Its odd when you realise how lucky we are that freedom of speech is a given in the UK. Its a truly horrible breach of human rights that Zarganar has been treated like this and Amnesty are currently campaigning on his behalf. I now feel slightly guilty for offering my services today as its possible I could just make this game worse and cause the poor man to spin in his cell. Fingers crossed.

If you are around today and want to come and watch then more info about the campaign and the game are all on this page:

www.amensty.org.uk/zarganar


Oh and as a last note, I'm now over the wall. Its amazing how fickle life as a comedian can be. A few things sorted me out yesterday including a kermit the frog film on TV, doing this:



....having the nicest gig ever ever in the world with the bestest audience, eating a curry and having some sleep. I think I'm not ok with being at the fringe. We'll just have to make sure every day includes all of those things. I'm off to go kick it wide like the fat man it is.

Fringe Day 11: THE WALL

I thought it would happen earlier but no, it hit yesterday, on all days, Friday the frikkin' 13th. I have officially hit the wall. I honestly couldn't care less today if the fringe blew up or fell over or set fire to its face. I've had enough already. This fringe is too long. Its so long its essentially not a fringe anymore, just er, a long hairdo. Hmm. Should edit that out. EXCEPT I WON'T BECAUSE I DON'T CARE. A combination of events yesterday have turned Monday's cracks into a full on mind spazz of delirium. I mean why is this a whole month? It shouldn't be. A week would be fine. In a week you'd have a nice time, enjoy doing your show and generally have fun. A month though? That's a whole advent calender of misery. After a month of working every single day everything just becomes proper cabin fever. You know, when people are allergic to tiny wooden shacks. Saying the same words every night, mingling with the same people, drinking and eating in the same places. I'm fully expecting, any moment now, a groundhog to appear and Bill Murray to pull a funny face. I'm sitting with my hoodie's hood up, in my PJs, fully intending to sit out today in my bed. Take that the fringe.


Some of yesterday was uber fun including catching up with the ever awesome Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly chaps for some boozing, the excellent Improvaganza at the C Venues and someone telling me after my show 'interesting, very good vocabulary, well done' which is the weirdest compliment I've ever had. There was also some awesome tapas ventures and a seeing the very very excellent 'Laura' at the Hive (go see it, its a brilliant play and its FREE!). But this was side swiped by the first review of my show to appear. Don't get me wrong. Its a great review. Brilliant infact and I couldn't be happier. Except that its only 3 stars which means nothing can be added to posters or flyers. Here's the review:

LITTLEST THINGS REVIEW - THREE WEEKS

I promised myself I wouldn't look for reviews but I got bored. Boredom is dangerous and has, in the past, been responsible for me burning myself with a lighter and making a small dinosaur out of tinfoil. So all in all, reading a review is not too bad a result. As I said though, I should be pretty pleased with that review if it wasn't for the bloody stars. Stars eh? Every year, the stars cause issue. Who needs stars eh? Except maybe the universe. But that's allowed. And Stars In Their Eyes. Without stars that program might be a tad redundant. But other than those, and Milky Way Stars, they are bloody pointless. I'm going to find a star and punch it. Sigh.


That review combined with other stuff and fringe mental means that surely after today, things can only get a tad better. The wall is important, because much like a marathon, after you pass it, you can carry on forever. Although forever would be far far too long and sadly unlike a marathon, at the end of the fringe, no one wraps you in a warm silver blanket and hugs you a bit. Or gives you free lucozade. Actually, as a diabetic, the lucozade is not helpful. Just the blanket please.

I'm off to walk round Edinburgh kicking things. ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH. Two more weeks to go. It's fully possible by next week I'll be sectioned.......

Fringe Day 10: Unlucky For Some

Ooooooh it's Friday the 13th. Scary stuff, if you're superstitious that is. Superstitious is the shittest of all superheros. 'I am Superstitious! Beware my incredible abilities of being scared of black cats and ladders!' Useless. I'm not superstitious. Much. I mean if I was to walk around today and suddenly my entire street was filled with ladders and black cats as though there was some sort of feline builder collective planning such things and it happened to be today, I may be a tad worried. However, glancing out my window, I can't see any of those things. I can see a cat. He's not black. But he may have painted himself as a disguise. Cats are sneaky like that. Either way he doesn't appear to be crossing anyone's paths as it would mostly involve him getting run over. I should be safe. Unless he's painted himself and is carrying a pocket ladder. Oh jesus I've worried myself a bit now. I might not leave the flat today. If there was anyway to broadcast my show this evening I would.

Seriously though I in no way suffer from friggatriskaidekaphobia. This is mostly because I am paranoid most days and can't be arsed to harness a special set of paranoia into one ball of fear today. Its a stupid belief anyway that goes back to the Christians destroying pagan beliefs that 13 was a lucky number. All witches covens had 12 witches and a head witch. Even Jesus had 12 apostles and him, which equals 13. Then Christianity said 'oh no no you can't be walking around having sex and setting fire to things. 13 must now be unlucky along with all of your beliefs.' I mean, I am paraphrasing. Which is like paragliding. Only with words. Its not like paratrooping. Or para-Olympics. I like to think that paratrooping is where soldiers can only walk in parallel lines to each other at all times. This would make wars pretty even if nothing else. Well sort of even. Sigh.

So I am very much planning to treat today like every other day. Except Darren. He's a dick and will get treated improperly. Take that Friday 13th. I'm going to make no changes to survive it. I may even set up certain hazards and walk around with my own ladder and a mirror and paint the cat across the road black again and carry it round. I'm a superstition maverick.

Couple of other things:

- Show 8: Audience Rating - 4 stars but very nearly 3. Toughest crowd yet. Refusal to like any edgier gags let them down a bit, could try harder. Felt they had a clear idea of what they wanted and yet couldn't quite realise it in their vocal performance. Extra star is given for the awesome Tara Flynn being there. Go see her excellent show. As for the crowd, I wouldn't rush to catch them at this fringe, but for your money's worth you could do far worse.

- The new Pleasance Dome game of performance dancing onto any empty table is quite possibly the best game invented yet. Take that Brazil Brazil. Brazil Braschmil more like.

- It was decided by myself and the K-Hizzle that this is the best website ever: www.teaandkittens.co.uk

- Yesterday I saw Jason Cook's show at the Stand 3 and Helen Arney's show at the Caves. They are both properly properly excellent. I couldn't recommend them highly enough.


Longer blog tomorrow. If I survive today........

Fringe Day 9: Fully Booked

Its very difficult to kill time in Edinburgh. This is not just because its a concept and destroying it would annoy a lot of people. For a start there'd be no more birthdays, people would be late for everything and Doctor Who would be a tad pointless. Saying that, people also wouldn't age and in fact it'd be impossible to be late for anything as time wouldn't exist. And the Doctor might actually get some rest time for once. Well not rest 'time'. Just rest whatever would be left. Bloody hell. I hope no one does kill time. Things'd get pretty complex. Anyway what I meant is that on most days at the fringe I have from whenever I get up to my show at 9.20 to fill an empty void of nothingness. Over the last week I have spread my minutes between meeting friends, going insane in the Cow Cafe and occasionally seeing other shows. Sometimes I've just sat around, but this is dangerous as it means I spend far too much time thinking and thinking generally leads to me trying to climb something or seeing if I am able to cutlery. So for my own health and safety its best I go do things.


Yesterday, whilst sitting around doing nothing, the thought occurred to me that despite however much I'm enjoying this fringe, we still have just over two weeks left of it. That thought penetrated my mind and sent tiny shockwaves of despair throughout my being like an electric shock, but not a bad one. Just the little one you get when you go into Top Man and you hold the metal stair banister and it zaps you. Similar to that, it doesn't really hurt but it does set off various alarms as though tiny warnings that you are about to look at a whole load of clothes only realising none of them suit or fit you because you are old old old. Well this was like that. Only different. Completely different. What this was was a sudden urge to escape the fringe temporarily and so I raced down Princes Street, into Waterstones and bought myself some books. BOOM. Check me out Captain Intellectualisamasationalism. I thought if I can't physically escape the fringe, I may as well mentally try. Now I'm not a big reader. Not just because I'm only 5'5". Nor because I don't read giant books. No, its usually just 'cos I'm too busy doing things to read stuff. I want to change this though as there is nothing better than getting into a good book. Not literally. I mean unless it was a giant book, it'd be pretty hard and we've already noted that I don't read those. But I couldn't have sorted myself out more yesterday than by taking one of my new books to a comfy sofa in Brookes Bar and reading in the quiet for a couple of hours. For a while I was in Glenn David Gold's 'Sunnyside' immersed in the 1940's America and completely chilled.Then loads of comics turned up and where all noisey which gave me a 'kick' worse than in Inception and I gave up and left. Still it was nice while it lasted.

More reading shall happen today. Books I mean. Not just, you know, words and signs and stuff. Because if you count those then everyone is a big reader and that's cheating. Although if anyone wants to have a competition about it then I'd like to point out I've read a lot of menus and signs since being here and so have probably won. I've also read peoples responses, a few emails and had some b-read. The last one is so tenuous. Sigh.

Some more book related things:

- Yesterday I saw Celebrity Autobiography. Micheal Uri is bloody amazing. They all were to be fair, with a rather stellar cast of Tiffany Stevenson, George Went, James Lance, Bridget Christie and some other people I haven't got a clue about. But Michael Uri stole it when reading Tommy Lee's autobiography. Brilliant show and a very novel idea. Novel. Geddit? Geddit? Sigh again.

- I also saw the excellent Jay Foreman's show. He doesn't have stuff about books in it. But there are words. Books have words. Therefore its all linked. Also a brilliant show and he has my favourite song about Sooty ever. Not that I've heard many. Or any. Except maybe Sue-Sue-Suedio by Phil Collins. Arf. Sigh. Triple Sigh. Shepherd's Sigh.

- Audience Rating for Show 7: 4 Stars. Generally very good but a few poorly timed laughs where they were slightly off the beat. Occasional wilting though I will put this down to the room as they were clearly keeping strong. Expect something very promising from them next year. One audience member was wearing a Bananaman tshirt and reacted well throughout. I suggest he embarks on a solo career as a punter if he's really serious about such things, as he'd clearly have a career in it.

- It is bloody funny adding 'izzle' to the ends of words all the time. Try it. Go on. Go onizzle. See? Ha. I'm Tiernanizzle Douiebizzle. Ha again. Ha times three.

- I didn't drink at all yesterday. Yet still managed to act like I was drunk and make possibly the worst statement I've ever made in my life to Rosie and Matt in the loft bar. I blame Paul Byrne. He gave me chocolate earlier in the evening. Choclotizzle makes me batshitizzle.

- I saw Matt Blair's first solo spot at the Fringe with his uke and a cheeky tune about a lady that don't look so nice up close. He was great. Its here if you wanna listen to it:

CAN'T SHE STAY

Oh and when I hold a ukelele it looks like a normal guitar. FACTIZZLE.

Fringe Day 8: Super Friends

SUPER FRIENDS

Yesterday me and Keith high fived at exactly the same time as Paul B and Mickey high fived. This is incredible because a) Paul B can't high five, b) it was not planned in anyway and c) somehow no one else saw. Keith says we are not super friends till we can all do an instinctive four way high five. I worry this would result in everyone watching and deciding we are not cool, but infact just girl guides. Its not the same.

COMEDY 4 KIDS

There are certain reasons why an audience of kids is better than an audience of adults. One of these, is that no matter where you go, you will never get an adult audience where one of them insists they are called 'Ben 10', whilst wearing a cape and pretending to explode every few minutes. This tiny 4 year old boy, who's name he revealed as Andrew before deciding it was definitely Ben 10, would start a countdown before making tiny high pitched fact noises that meant he was exploding. I genuinely have never been quite so pleased with an audience member before. I am currently wondering on the implications of asking his mum if he can just sit in the corner of my evening show and explode every few minutes. I think I might be constantly upstaged but it'd be totally worth it.

AUDIENCE RATING - SHOW NUMBER 5

Best audience yet. Big laughs, some well timed groans and generally bloody good. Even two people walking out before the show even started couldn't falter them. (They were in the wrong show, not just horrendously put off by the wrong ambiance).

5 stars. Savvy, attentive, warm. They managed to display all the top qualities of punters whilst never dipping in quality or their attempts appearing forced. Superb.

STAIR RACES

Scores so far:

Me - 1
Paul - 1
Draw - 1

To be continued....

TWINGY THROAT

My throat is twingy today. Twingy is not the fringe on Twitter. Its starting to get sore and this is the opposite of cool. Which I suppose would be hot. But its not that either. Its just pants. I had meant to go booze free yesterday but then had two pints. Two pints, in the scheme of things, is technically no booze. My throat however has disagreed and is threatening a Tom Waits style protest at me. This I fear would make my show creepier than it should be, though at the same time compliment my surroundings of being in a damp dark cave. I might spend today writing stories about gruesome trucker tales and Brothers Grimm like yarns then drink all the booze I can and scare the crap out of tonight's audience. Or not. Probably the latter.

NOODLES

I like noodles. FACT. I like them more when its been preceded by witnessing Danny and Eri aka Ginger and Black getting mobbed by tens of children as though they had been appraised for saving the youth centres in a 70's drama. This is unlikely to happen everytime I eat noodles though which makes me worry I may start enjoying them less.

Fringe Day 7: The Cracks

RAINMAN

The fringe is all ok now. Officially. I think Sunday needed to be bad so that we could enter the true spirit of going completely batshit crazy at being here for a whole month. It always happens at some point. Sometimes in week one, sometimes in week two, but whenever it does, its guaranteed that a moment will occur when you realise you are not getting home till September so you may as well lose your marbles and enjoy it. The first major cracks occured yesterday as I walked from my flat through the Meadows in the pouring rain without suitable rain attire. Water dripping off my face, my iPod ran out of battery and so I just started to loudly sing Radiohead songs to myself, and chuckle at the prospect of doing so. Then I walked past Tim Key, and he quizzically looked at me, singing and soaking and asked if I was ok. It was only at that point I realised what I was doing, that I was clearly still drunk and that despite all of this, I was indeed just fine. Broken. Get the white coats, the fringe madness has begun.


COW CAFE MADNESS

The usual signifier of fringe madness is when myself and Keith Farnan sit in the Cow Cafe for hours driving everyone else insane by talking nonsense. Last year this occurred for hours and days on end until we culminated with a special free show in the cafe on the last day called 'Darnan and Fouieb at the Cafe' where talked the same shit, but drunk and on a stage and people stared. People stared because it was properly just weird. Not funny. Weird. It was our public outlet for the verbal diaorehhea we spurt outside of our gigs. Yesterday was the first day this has happened this fringe. The official loony noise of Farnan and Douieb this year is this one:

YIP YIP ALIENS



Irritating as hell. For everyone else. Me and Keith love it. If you are in any way vulnerable during the Fringe please avoid the Cafe from about 2pm in the afternoon every single day. I also discovered that by imitating a poor Irish accent and saying 'diddly diddly' a lot, I can make Keith want to punch me. Score.


CAZH CASH

As Charlie Evans was leaving the bar last night, he dropped a bombshell on everyone and then pissed off. Its not fair to do what he did and he knows it, which is why I've decided he's a particularly conniving bastard. He got up, said cheerio and then said to us, 'how do you spell cash?' Now, I've spelt it as 'cash' there, but the word I mean is the short word for casual. He then disappeared and left a slightly drunk table full of despair. Certain ideas of 'cazh', 'kash', 'caszch' and various other versions appeared and Evans slightly rocked everyone's vocab word in a minute. Wanker.

This morning I told Luke about this and he just said completely care-free, 'its casz'. He wasn't at all flustered. I worry that I was less sober than I thought last night. Sigh.


EYE LICKING

Paul Byrne does not wind in his eyes (actual wind not gaseous emissions. Though I doubt he likes those in his eyes either), yet he is still adamant eye licking is ok. I feel this is hugely wrong.

FITZHIGHAM

Yesterday Tim Fitzhigham asked me, out of the blue, how much I weigh. Unnervingly unphased by this I told him. Somehow this now means he has decided he can cart me up Arthur's Seat in a child's trailer wagon as one of his many loony tasks. I have said yes because I'd had a beer. I will keep you posted, but this could all go so horribly wrong. I really must stop saying 'yes'.


RADIO

The BBC Radio Scotland first aid chart is the most boring of all of them. (As noted by Luke Benson. And no, I'm not giving you anymore clues what this means. Read the picture and be observant. There. You got told.)




AUDIENCE RATING

Last night's audience get four stars. Very good applause at the beginning and strong laughs throughout. Also benefitted from a lovely couple telling me at the end that they saw me last year. Bonus points. Sadly one star was lost by one man who didn't laugh as much as everyone else and let the side down. Spoiled it for everyone. Good potential for next year though. Definitely one to look out for in 2011.

Fringe Day 6: Swings and Roundashits

Well it had to go wrong at some point didn't it? I mean surely the whole point of karma is if you are going to have several ace days in a row, it needs to come crashing down like a turd in the face with nails in it eventually doesn't it? I will note, right now, that I am being a bit of a drama queen with that statement, but today is generally one of those ones where I am considering spending entirely in bed. I like my bed in Edinburgh. My Bedinburgh as I've decided to call it. Its extremely comfy and thus far, when in it, I haven't had to put on any type of show or if I have, numbers haven't been an issue. Read into that what you will. In fact, don't. There really is nothing to read into. Essentially, yesterday, whilst filled with some nice bits (these shall be listed below shortly) contained several un-nice bits. The worst of these was that my show didn't happen. This was due to an entire lack of audience. Only one ticket was sold and while I could've put on a private performance, I didn't think that one punter would've wanted me to be his or her tiny dancer. So, consequently, I had a day off when I really didn't want a day off.

There is something so hugely disheartening about working on something for months and months and months and putting a lot of effort into it, only for no one to witness it. I know I'm going to lose a lot of money this year. I honestly don't expect any sell outs or awards or even necessarily anything to come from this fringe. All I want is to do my show for people. People, not person. I'm hoping it picks up again this evening or I'll start to consider just going home and reciting it infront of a mirror and saving my money.

My problem is, I really can't be miserable. I'm trying today. Really really trying. But so far trying has involved me telling Tom he's a 'garage' and various other things (this works by whenever he says something eg 'is that a garage', I respond with 'you're a garage'. This has escalated to him now being a 'panini' and 'not a Scottish Institution'). Also, I keep remembering that apart from the shitstorm of my lack of show, and a couple of other not nice things that shall be excluded from bloggery, yesterday was actually good. Here's some good thangs from Sunday:

- Turns out Keith Farnan and Tiernan Douieb's free pub quiz at the Cow Cafe on Sundays - or as we like to call it 'Have I Got Moos For You' - is the awesomest pub quiz ever, despite some very hard questions. It also turns out Keith can't do film noir and I can't do a spaghetti western. It shall happen again next week and if you're lucky I might do a dalek voice again.

- The Stand Late Show is excellent. I did a set. I think it went well. I was drunk. I really honestly don't know.

- I tried Red Eye, which is tomato juice in beer. Sounds wrong but totally works. It was all the Johansson's fault and I may now be a tad addicted. Though I will have to call it beermato juice. This and the peamar buttmite sandwiches state that this is a week for experimentation. I worry what will happen today. If anyone finds me drinking a smoothie with petrol in it, please stop me.

- Steph Ashford has made me a full bag of the awesomest food to keep me alive during Edinburgh. This is truly brilliant. I like food bags. Not the cellophane ones. Though they are handy for sandwich keeping. You can't eat them though. Or maybe you can. Uh oh. Experiment number three might involve choking on plastic.

- I kissed Michael Legge. Well only on the cheek. Take that how you will.

- Second day of Quiz In My Pants was much fun. Yesterday's had me improving a mating ritual that anywhere else could possibly get me sectioned. It is an awesome show and its free, so you should all go to the Dragonfly at 4.20 everyday to see it.

That is it. Brief blog today cos I'm going to have a walk and think about how to persuade people to come and see my show. I may just do it all in dalek voice. Or in my Bedinburgh. Or both. Experiment number 4 sorted. This is of course if I have a show to do. Sigh.