I've just got home after taking a bus that I didn't check where it was going and only had a vague idea it would get somewhere near me. It did it ended up at the end of my road. I feel pretty proud at having taken such a mega risk. I mean it wasn't that risky compared to say tightrope walking over a pit of hungry alligators, doing a ski jump over a 300ft ravine or walking in front of the cameras to check the lighting while Christian Bale is doing a scene, but its risky for me. I mean imagine the consequences if it hadn't gone near my house and had gone somewhere else entirely? I would have had to get another bus all the way back. Shock! I did cheat a bit by getting on the bus at the end of my road earlier and trying to get to where I wanted to. It didn't and the closest I got was 20 minutes walk away and then I gave in and got the tube. Danger is my middle name. Even though its not. Its Samuel. I wish it was danger, as Samuel is a bit rubbish. Especially as its too normal for my other two names. It would be like if Englebert Humperdinck's middle name was Dave.
Buses are a lot more risky than people think. I remember when I did a warm up for a trailer for Euro 2008 for the Beeb. The whole point of the trailer was that we interviewed real people in real places and what that entailed was I had to try and cheer up some rather dull unenthusiastic people into talking about football. Considering I knew nothing about football it was a struggle of a day. One of the many 'real' locations we visited was a bus depot in Bow. The people there were truly stupid and when we asked one ticket inspector what team he would be support in '08 he said 'England'. We told him England weren't in it, which was kind of the point of the trailer, and so he said 'Australia'. He then continued to name countries that weren't in it, and when he ran out of countries started naming local football teams. We gave up after he started naming under 21 teams. The highlight of this venture though was a very creepy looking old man who wandered around the bus depot luring buses into their parking spaces like a sheepdog of transport. He would sort of wave his arms about frantically, then woo them in using a gesture I had only seen on Vic and Bob's Shooting Stars for the 'Dove From Above'. Then when they were in the space he would scream 'STOP' as though they had just run over a child, before wandering aimlessly off waiting for the next bus. I'm not even sure if he was employed there. At one point he wondered over to us and the film crew and pointing his finger like an inn keeper in a Hammer horror film he said in hushed tones ' You want to be careful and watch your step. Them buses can be right silent and just creep up on ya and then BANG you're a goner.' We left fairly hurriedly after that, realising we did not belong in this godforsaken place where buses rule the land. I would however like to see more movies like that. 'The 209: Bus of Death', 'Deathsport for London' or 'Routemaster of Evil'. Its only a matter of time.
The meeting I was at was a brain storming session for a kids sketch show in Edinburgh. Our meetings always happen the same way, involving me getting there late, we then kick our feet for a while, and catch up. This is followed by two hours of solid work, then a big lunch and then we all give up working. I rather enjoy how it all works. Today the productivity was more than normal until Stan spotted a large dead cockroach on the floor. After some apathy from the rest of us, various horrible stories about cockroaches ensued and then discussed the fact that if there was a nuclear war they would be the only thing to survive. I think this is largely unfair and thoroughly destroys the idea of karma and any religion. I mean firstly, if there was a God, why would he let those repulsive things be more immortal and hard to kill than a bear? Its relative of course. I think I'd have more chance of killing a cockroach than a bear, although if it was a Malaysian Sun Bear I could probably kick it in the face till it died. I wouldn't do that though. * Karma-wise, what have cockroaches ever done for anyone? Except maybe Wall-E? Nothing. They are gross little creatures and I really hope that fact was made up so that if a nuclear war happens they will assume they are safe and feel a tad gutted when they all melt.
I'm in High Wycombe tonight, which I always hope is like Wycombe only on more drugs. Its not though. Instead its tragically near Slough which can't be nice for anyone.
* Unless it looked at me funny. Also while looking up a page on bears, I discovered there is a bear called the Kermode bear. Do you think this bear gives films rather harsh reviews and is spotted due to its 50's throwback flick?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
The Future is Multi-tasking
I have accidentally had a mid-day pint today which has thrown everything else I was meant to do off-kilter. I was having a meeting with Suze who has been responsible for our awesome Tea and Cake posters in previous times, and discussing what to do for my Ed show posters this year. I am adamant that I want something zombie-esque as the show will be called '28 Days Later'. She pointed out quite rightly that my show isn't about zombies. Then we had a beer and compromise was made that I am quite happy with. Its amazing how a beer creates compromise. More beers in war I say. Although then thinking about what happens in Wetherspoons after lots of beer it could also create further violence. I suppose that wars would be less bloody and just full of drunken fools swinging at each other and missing, with the occasional smack with a chair, cowboy film style.
Last night's gig was ok. Ok is all it was even though it was very nearly lovely. It was a nice venue. There was a large and friendly crowd. We were looked after and the bill of acts was great. What wasn't great, and in fact was very far from great, less Alexander the Great and more Ethelred the Unready was the sound system. Half of it didn't work, the left half and that meant that the enthusiastic crowd became less enthused when they realised they were just watching some people mouth words they couldn't hear. That's rarely funny, unless its the Queen and you see her mouth the words 'fuck stick'. I didn't realise the sound only half worked until after I had come off stage which made me realise that was perhaps why no one laughed when I was speaking to the lady who had broken her arm by falling over while dressed as Smurfette. I quipped that if her arm was already blue, what colour did it go? It was either that they couldn't hear that, or that it was just a really crap quip. The situation is unlikely to arise again so we will never know.
During the interval they managed to make the audience move towards the right of the stage by using the most powerful bribery tool for students: Free Booze. Students appear to do almost anything for booze. This is a theory that remains completely untested, but I'm sure is an Endemol television vehicle waiting to happen. It would be called 'Brewniveristy' and involve such challenges like 'For one free pint will you let your family be mauled to death by dogs?'. 'No', 'Two pints?', 'Two pints! Fuck yeah go on! Woo! Beer! Beer beer beer beer beer! ....Sorry dad!'. So they moved and that slightly solved the problem with the lack of sound for half the room. Then the second problem of the evening occurred. His name was John, he was a bit of a rudeboy and he sat in the second row at the front using his phone throughout the entirety of the show. I picked on him at the top of the show, and he seemed genuinely shocked I was having a go at him but it did not deter him from continuing to use it. I Twittered the problem and received a lot of responses telling me to do a Lee Hurst. I had thought about it but I couldn't afford the £60 fine and he had an i-phone so it would probably be even more expensive. So instead I really made a point of it in the second section but again he remained unperturbed and even brought out a second phone and used that at the same time. It was amazing, and even though it really wasn't disturbing the evening it really bothered me.
Marcus Birdman who was closing the show pointed out to me that maybe he was shocked that I picked on him because he can pay attention to the show and play on his phone at the same time. Maybe its a generational thing and he is very used to using technology at the same time as watching something else. I hadn't even considered this. Its quite possibly the next evolutionary step and the beginning of the end of gags about men's inability to multi-task. I'm envious of this. Only a couple of minutes ago I temporarily stopped writing this blog to eat something and in trying to do both got some sweet corn and salad on the keyboard. I was hoping in the future that we would have incredible powers to read minds and breathe in space but it appears instead we all become rudeboys who can use more than one phone at once, while watching a show and studying Real Estate Management. How scary is that? And yes, he was actually studying real estate management which means its highly likely that part of course involves conning a family to live in a Portuguese villa and spend lots of money on it, only so they can turn up and find some rubble and tears.
Feeling a bit sniffly today. Not sure why I have a cold again, but can only assume its the fault of seemingly nice people Tom Craine and Josh Widdicombe. Both of whom I have recently shared car journeys with and both have complained of cold/flu like symptoms. I think that under the guise of funny, nice people they are actually plague carriers. If you see either of them be sure to wear a face mask and spray yourself with disinfectant.
Last night's gig was ok. Ok is all it was even though it was very nearly lovely. It was a nice venue. There was a large and friendly crowd. We were looked after and the bill of acts was great. What wasn't great, and in fact was very far from great, less Alexander the Great and more Ethelred the Unready was the sound system. Half of it didn't work, the left half and that meant that the enthusiastic crowd became less enthused when they realised they were just watching some people mouth words they couldn't hear. That's rarely funny, unless its the Queen and you see her mouth the words 'fuck stick'. I didn't realise the sound only half worked until after I had come off stage which made me realise that was perhaps why no one laughed when I was speaking to the lady who had broken her arm by falling over while dressed as Smurfette. I quipped that if her arm was already blue, what colour did it go? It was either that they couldn't hear that, or that it was just a really crap quip. The situation is unlikely to arise again so we will never know.
During the interval they managed to make the audience move towards the right of the stage by using the most powerful bribery tool for students: Free Booze. Students appear to do almost anything for booze. This is a theory that remains completely untested, but I'm sure is an Endemol television vehicle waiting to happen. It would be called 'Brewniveristy' and involve such challenges like 'For one free pint will you let your family be mauled to death by dogs?'. 'No', 'Two pints?', 'Two pints! Fuck yeah go on! Woo! Beer! Beer beer beer beer beer! ....Sorry dad!'. So they moved and that slightly solved the problem with the lack of sound for half the room. Then the second problem of the evening occurred. His name was John, he was a bit of a rudeboy and he sat in the second row at the front using his phone throughout the entirety of the show. I picked on him at the top of the show, and he seemed genuinely shocked I was having a go at him but it did not deter him from continuing to use it. I Twittered the problem and received a lot of responses telling me to do a Lee Hurst. I had thought about it but I couldn't afford the £60 fine and he had an i-phone so it would probably be even more expensive. So instead I really made a point of it in the second section but again he remained unperturbed and even brought out a second phone and used that at the same time. It was amazing, and even though it really wasn't disturbing the evening it really bothered me.
Marcus Birdman who was closing the show pointed out to me that maybe he was shocked that I picked on him because he can pay attention to the show and play on his phone at the same time. Maybe its a generational thing and he is very used to using technology at the same time as watching something else. I hadn't even considered this. Its quite possibly the next evolutionary step and the beginning of the end of gags about men's inability to multi-task. I'm envious of this. Only a couple of minutes ago I temporarily stopped writing this blog to eat something and in trying to do both got some sweet corn and salad on the keyboard. I was hoping in the future that we would have incredible powers to read minds and breathe in space but it appears instead we all become rudeboys who can use more than one phone at once, while watching a show and studying Real Estate Management. How scary is that? And yes, he was actually studying real estate management which means its highly likely that part of course involves conning a family to live in a Portuguese villa and spend lots of money on it, only so they can turn up and find some rubble and tears.
Feeling a bit sniffly today. Not sure why I have a cold again, but can only assume its the fault of seemingly nice people Tom Craine and Josh Widdicombe. Both of whom I have recently shared car journeys with and both have complained of cold/flu like symptoms. I think that under the guise of funny, nice people they are actually plague carriers. If you see either of them be sure to wear a face mask and spray yourself with disinfectant.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Information Overload
Today is a day of doing things. So far I have managed to do somethings and not others but other have to get done and then I will go all the way to Anglia Ruskin University which is the Cambridge Uni for students who aren't as clever/stuck up their own rich arse. I have to do stuff today because nothing went to plan yesterday. It started off not going to plan from the second I woke up. This is mostly because I procrastinated too much on Sunday night. Oddly my procrastination involved doing a survey about procrastinating for my friend Vik, which I did instead of doing other stuff I should do. There is part of me that hears that irony and does a dance about how brilliant it is. Sadly the other part of me is still angry I didn't do the stuff I was meant to do on Sunday night.
One of the main things I was meant to do was to make a banner for a demo with Mark Thomas at the Home Office to demonstrate against Jacqui Smith's inability to be trusted with the rent. Not only is she claiming her sister's house in London is her second residence and claiming expenses for that, but the Home Office itself is owned by HSBC infrastructure who are based offshore. Which means the Home Office pays rent to tax dodgers. I couldn't for the life of me think of a witty slogan to put on a banner and I had a slight fear of turning up with a sub-standard 'Jacqui Smith Can't Be Trusted With Sorting Out The Rent' and for the other protesters to frown on my lack of slogan ability. I knew there had to be something there, but neither Jacqui or Smith really rhymes with anything relevant. Its a fairly pun proof name. Damn her tax and pun dodging ways. There were moments when I couldn't work out what aspect made me more angry. I also debated whether or not to take custard. I was quite up for taking some but I didn't really know if anywhere near me sold custard anymore, and had they done it would probably only be instant custard, which would only have been be good if it had rained. I'd like to think that if I had thrown instant custard at Smith she would have thought nothing of it and then hours later she'd have got caught in rain and suddenly be custardated. That's a new word I just made. Along with 'custardy' which is what I eventually put on my banner made of black felt tip and two bits of A3. Its' minimalist activist art if nothing else. And it was nothing else.
The demo was good fun but I needn't have worried about my banner as other's efforts were good but not amazing and there were only about 8 of us there. Chris Coltrane's banner just listed all the bad things that Jacqui Smith had ever done. It wasn't very punchy but nicely accurate and consequently was a rather large piece of paper. Jacqui Smith didn't show in the end which was a shame, and someone assumed she had possibly put her lunch break offshore. Mark did a nice little speech about why we were there and then Richard Brooks from The Guardian and Private Eye told us all of the many many properties including HMRC, lots of schools and hospitals which are all owned by tax dodging off shore companies. Its so disturbing to think that part of this whole financial crisis is caused by fat cats selling off government buildings to people who then don't pay any tax back. And we wonder why we are in a financial crisis.
I met another virtual friend in the real face which was nice. Especially as on her Twitter picture she doesn't appear to have a face and this was something that worried me for a while. I can confirm for other Twitterer's that @kateweb does indeed have a face. Don't panic at the lack of faceness. It was nice to see Chris too as I haven't seen him for ages since he became all sensible, quit stand-up for a while and paid off all his debt. He is now not in debt and is returning to stand-up. Such an incredibly sensible thing to do and I was worried that as a result he would have become all dull and only wore suits and discussed gardening. None of these things have happened, and instead it meant that he insisted on buying me coffee all afternoon as we caught up on life, stand-up and a website called 4Chan that contains both some of the most disturbing and hilarious pictures I've ever seen. Like this:
http://www.qwantz.com/apologies/comics/horseparty.gif
This coffee session went on far too long. In a lovely nice way but also in a way that meant I got nothing done. Instead of going home and doing many things we stayed and drank. Chris drank booze and I drank coffee. Strangely I think the coffee affected me more than the booze affected Chris and there were moments that I found it hard to sit still from caffeine overload. Eventually we managed to head towards Camden where I had to interview Mark for comedydemon.com. I'm not sure how they will edit it down as Mark talked to us about so many ace stories, from the Tobin Tax to people squatting on the M40. I felt rather proud at understanding nearly all of it, and at bits where I didn't I nodded and just said 'yep'. I also confessed that I had had Coca-Cola once or twice since reading his book. It was like a moral church confessions booth without all the choir boy mishaps. We finished the interview and then snuck into Mark's 'It's the Stupid Economy' show. The gig was completely sold out so not wanting to steal a paying customers seat I sat on a stool by the fire exit, while Chris sat with his back to the fire extinguisher. Had there been a fire Chris would have been too drunk to get the extinguisher and I would have been too fidgety to open the door and everyone would have died. This hadn't been thought through. Luckily there was no fire and instead there was some ace stand up from Mark followed by interviews with three very clever people on the mining industry, carbon trading and currency tax. I managed to understand a lot more of it than I thought I would, and got particularly distressed with the idea of carbon trading. I now understand but still can't quite grasp how companies are giving credits to pollute the Earth for free and then sell those credits to other companies so they can pollute more if they need to. After all of that I felt both elated at being at the gig, angry at the crapness of our government and brain melted with all the information.
Do you think that if you leave a show like that with your brain feeling like it needs to fall out that that means I'm not that clever? I always leave these sort of shows wishing I had a better ability to grasp it all. It was quite reassuring finding out during the interview that Mark started these nights because he had no idea about it all. Thing is, I have since listened to all his podcasts have read lots of stuff about it and I'm still baffled by what a FTSE is. And I'm pretty sure now that its not a sexual hint or a football trick. I'm getting there though and soon I will know all of it and then feel even more depressed about the credit crunch.That's the issue though isn't it? Ignorance is bliss as they say and will I get more sad by knowing all this stuff? I mean look at really stupid people they are often happy aren't they? Except maybe Jade Goody.
I left the gig last night with a book called 'The Risks We Run: Mining, Communities and Political Risk Insurance'. I have all intentions of attempting to read it, but I got home put it on the table, covered it with the post and played Street Fighter. I need at least two days of stupidity before I can even begin to start on mining.
One of the main things I was meant to do was to make a banner for a demo with Mark Thomas at the Home Office to demonstrate against Jacqui Smith's inability to be trusted with the rent. Not only is she claiming her sister's house in London is her second residence and claiming expenses for that, but the Home Office itself is owned by HSBC infrastructure who are based offshore. Which means the Home Office pays rent to tax dodgers. I couldn't for the life of me think of a witty slogan to put on a banner and I had a slight fear of turning up with a sub-standard 'Jacqui Smith Can't Be Trusted With Sorting Out The Rent' and for the other protesters to frown on my lack of slogan ability. I knew there had to be something there, but neither Jacqui or Smith really rhymes with anything relevant. Its a fairly pun proof name. Damn her tax and pun dodging ways. There were moments when I couldn't work out what aspect made me more angry. I also debated whether or not to take custard. I was quite up for taking some but I didn't really know if anywhere near me sold custard anymore, and had they done it would probably only be instant custard, which would only have been be good if it had rained. I'd like to think that if I had thrown instant custard at Smith she would have thought nothing of it and then hours later she'd have got caught in rain and suddenly be custardated. That's a new word I just made. Along with 'custardy' which is what I eventually put on my banner made of black felt tip and two bits of A3. Its' minimalist activist art if nothing else. And it was nothing else.
The demo was good fun but I needn't have worried about my banner as other's efforts were good but not amazing and there were only about 8 of us there. Chris Coltrane's banner just listed all the bad things that Jacqui Smith had ever done. It wasn't very punchy but nicely accurate and consequently was a rather large piece of paper. Jacqui Smith didn't show in the end which was a shame, and someone assumed she had possibly put her lunch break offshore. Mark did a nice little speech about why we were there and then Richard Brooks from The Guardian and Private Eye told us all of the many many properties including HMRC, lots of schools and hospitals which are all owned by tax dodging off shore companies. Its so disturbing to think that part of this whole financial crisis is caused by fat cats selling off government buildings to people who then don't pay any tax back. And we wonder why we are in a financial crisis.
I met another virtual friend in the real face which was nice. Especially as on her Twitter picture she doesn't appear to have a face and this was something that worried me for a while. I can confirm for other Twitterer's that @kateweb does indeed have a face. Don't panic at the lack of faceness. It was nice to see Chris too as I haven't seen him for ages since he became all sensible, quit stand-up for a while and paid off all his debt. He is now not in debt and is returning to stand-up. Such an incredibly sensible thing to do and I was worried that as a result he would have become all dull and only wore suits and discussed gardening. None of these things have happened, and instead it meant that he insisted on buying me coffee all afternoon as we caught up on life, stand-up and a website called 4Chan that contains both some of the most disturbing and hilarious pictures I've ever seen. Like this:
http://www.qwantz.com/apologies/comics/horseparty.gif
This coffee session went on far too long. In a lovely nice way but also in a way that meant I got nothing done. Instead of going home and doing many things we stayed and drank. Chris drank booze and I drank coffee. Strangely I think the coffee affected me more than the booze affected Chris and there were moments that I found it hard to sit still from caffeine overload. Eventually we managed to head towards Camden where I had to interview Mark for comedydemon.com. I'm not sure how they will edit it down as Mark talked to us about so many ace stories, from the Tobin Tax to people squatting on the M40. I felt rather proud at understanding nearly all of it, and at bits where I didn't I nodded and just said 'yep'. I also confessed that I had had Coca-Cola once or twice since reading his book. It was like a moral church confessions booth without all the choir boy mishaps. We finished the interview and then snuck into Mark's 'It's the Stupid Economy' show. The gig was completely sold out so not wanting to steal a paying customers seat I sat on a stool by the fire exit, while Chris sat with his back to the fire extinguisher. Had there been a fire Chris would have been too drunk to get the extinguisher and I would have been too fidgety to open the door and everyone would have died. This hadn't been thought through. Luckily there was no fire and instead there was some ace stand up from Mark followed by interviews with three very clever people on the mining industry, carbon trading and currency tax. I managed to understand a lot more of it than I thought I would, and got particularly distressed with the idea of carbon trading. I now understand but still can't quite grasp how companies are giving credits to pollute the Earth for free and then sell those credits to other companies so they can pollute more if they need to. After all of that I felt both elated at being at the gig, angry at the crapness of our government and brain melted with all the information.
Do you think that if you leave a show like that with your brain feeling like it needs to fall out that that means I'm not that clever? I always leave these sort of shows wishing I had a better ability to grasp it all. It was quite reassuring finding out during the interview that Mark started these nights because he had no idea about it all. Thing is, I have since listened to all his podcasts have read lots of stuff about it and I'm still baffled by what a FTSE is. And I'm pretty sure now that its not a sexual hint or a football trick. I'm getting there though and soon I will know all of it and then feel even more depressed about the credit crunch.That's the issue though isn't it? Ignorance is bliss as they say and will I get more sad by knowing all this stuff? I mean look at really stupid people they are often happy aren't they? Except maybe Jade Goody.
I left the gig last night with a book called 'The Risks We Run: Mining, Communities and Political Risk Insurance'. I have all intentions of attempting to read it, but I got home put it on the table, covered it with the post and played Street Fighter. I need at least two days of stupidity before I can even begin to start on mining.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Way Past Blog Time
This blog is stupidly late. Really stupidly late. It was meant to be done at 10am this morning, but stuff happened. Nearly all stuff happened because I stayed in bed longer than I should, didn't do stuff last night and then couldn't leave the pub because Chris Coltrane is too persuasive with his lack-of-debt money saving coffee buying powers, but its all still stuff. I feel blog guilt though about it which is odd. Its odd because I started this blog just before New Years Day with the intention of doing it as a none New Years Resolution. The idea would be that by typing something up everyday I would get some new stand-up gags and get my brain into gear for the day. So if I didn't blog I would just be letting myself down, which according to all teachers ever and most parents is the worst thing you could do. I can handle letting myself down though. Twice I've peed on the floor through drunkeness and once tried to sleep in a skip so I'm quite used to it. However I've since found that a few people read this and now it feels like I'm letting you down. Thats a whole lot worse and a bit like a internet version of Catholic guilt. Its lovely you all read it but it does put the pressure on somewhat. It means I actually have to write these things and I should probably put some jokes in every now and then. At the same time you are all protecting me from letting myself down again and so there will be no more virtual floor pissing. Thanks for that, sorry for today's lateness and at the same time damn you all. Just to make you hate me more I will tell of today's antics tomorrow otherwise there will be nothing to say tomorrow and we wouldn't want that. Even though today has been really interesting. Like more interesting than yesterday. Loads more.
I saw Watchmen yesterday and I haven't been as excited about going to the cinema for ages. In fact the last thing I got that excited about was Spiderman 3 which after seeing felt like my excitement had been sexually abused in a exercise of mistrust. That was a brutal experience. At least I had a warning with Indy 4. I knew that the Star Wars prequels were so astronomically shit that there was a high chance Indy 4 would suck celluloid donkey balls too. So when it did, and it did (apart from about four bits), I wasn't too damaged. But Spidey 3 I didn't expect. 1 and 2 were such amazing displays of a director who was delicate with the source material. Raimi carefully crafted two excellent films that pleased most fan-boys and newbies alike. Then all of sudden with 3, it was like he became the cinematic equivalent of George Bush in Iraq and ploughed through and destroyed two films worth of good history and a third film of promise by hitting all the easy targets and killing civilians along the way. Well he didn't kill civilians but he might as well have done. PETER PARKER DOES NOT JAZZ DANCE! I don't need to say anymore, it still hurts.
So I was scared about Watchmen. The graphic novel is a pretty damn special book. I'm not a loon who reads it for or five times a year and then dresses up as Rorschach on the anniversary of its release kicking dogs in the face, but I do like it. A lot. And it is one heck of a story with some many complex strands that I was scared the film would be horrendous. Alan Moore had already removed himself from it, although I imagine he would remove himself from any film of any of his books even if he created and directed it himself. Which he wouldnt. But if he did, he would. Even though he wouldn't. I had also cheated and read several reviews with some loving the film version and some hating it. I knew about the lack of giant squid. I watched all the video diaries and got excited about all the trailers for Tales Of The Black Freighter, and I had also by yesterday, spoken to 12 different people who had seen it. 11 of them liked it and one hated it. Mat who had hated it tends to hate lots of stuff I like so I took it as a good sign. So after all this I was so worried that Snyder would fall into the ranks of Lucas and Raimi as a dream killer and eye rapist.
Was I let down? As far as I'm concerned, no. It was fucking fantastic. I was so relieved it was too. From the shots straight from the comic book to the brilliant performances by Jackie Haley and Patrick Wilson to the very cool soundtrack I was happy. Its a tough job editing that story down to two and half hours and Snyder did it well. The new ending was also pretty awesome. I'm sure squids everywhere feel snubbed, but it was a clever and well crafted finish to it all. Layla liked it too even though she hadn't read the book and I was worried she'd be baffled. We then went to Wagamama's for the same food we always eat there and intense discussion on utilitarianism and how I wasn't just ogling Malin Akerman's arse all the way through. I was a bit, but I didn't want to ruin dinner. Although I am always tempted to ruin dinner in Wagamama's by scrawling different letters and numbers on the placemats so the waiters and waitresses' heads explode. Anyway end result, so see it. If you hate it because it isn't exactly like the book, grow up and deal with the fact that it would have to be a six hour film if it was. If you hate it, like my friend because the acting is a tad hammy in places, remember it comes from a comic. And if you hate it because the make-up on the actor playing Richard Nixon looks shit, well fair enough. I agree with that, its terrible. And for all those who miss giant squid check this out:
http://archives.cnn.com/2002/TECH/science/06/13/bloop/
That article has pretty much ensured I never swim in the sea ever again. Even though I'm sure its a group of gaseous whales farting all at the same time, the possibility I may get scooped by by giant tentacles means I am very happy with my over chlorinated pool with kids wee in it in Crouch End thanks very much. I'm sure those you enjoy calamari might be happy about it, but as far as I'm concerned its the most terrifying thing ever.
Will blog about today tomorrow. Sorry again for lateness, it won't happen again. Except maybe when I am in Glasgow without a computer over the weekend. Oops. Oh and if you are sad about todays late blog please do find Chris Coltrane on Facebook or Twitter (@chris_coltrane) and send him abuse. He deserves it all.
I saw Watchmen yesterday and I haven't been as excited about going to the cinema for ages. In fact the last thing I got that excited about was Spiderman 3 which after seeing felt like my excitement had been sexually abused in a exercise of mistrust. That was a brutal experience. At least I had a warning with Indy 4. I knew that the Star Wars prequels were so astronomically shit that there was a high chance Indy 4 would suck celluloid donkey balls too. So when it did, and it did (apart from about four bits), I wasn't too damaged. But Spidey 3 I didn't expect. 1 and 2 were such amazing displays of a director who was delicate with the source material. Raimi carefully crafted two excellent films that pleased most fan-boys and newbies alike. Then all of sudden with 3, it was like he became the cinematic equivalent of George Bush in Iraq and ploughed through and destroyed two films worth of good history and a third film of promise by hitting all the easy targets and killing civilians along the way. Well he didn't kill civilians but he might as well have done. PETER PARKER DOES NOT JAZZ DANCE! I don't need to say anymore, it still hurts.
So I was scared about Watchmen. The graphic novel is a pretty damn special book. I'm not a loon who reads it for or five times a year and then dresses up as Rorschach on the anniversary of its release kicking dogs in the face, but I do like it. A lot. And it is one heck of a story with some many complex strands that I was scared the film would be horrendous. Alan Moore had already removed himself from it, although I imagine he would remove himself from any film of any of his books even if he created and directed it himself. Which he wouldnt. But if he did, he would. Even though he wouldn't. I had also cheated and read several reviews with some loving the film version and some hating it. I knew about the lack of giant squid. I watched all the video diaries and got excited about all the trailers for Tales Of The Black Freighter, and I had also by yesterday, spoken to 12 different people who had seen it. 11 of them liked it and one hated it. Mat who had hated it tends to hate lots of stuff I like so I took it as a good sign. So after all this I was so worried that Snyder would fall into the ranks of Lucas and Raimi as a dream killer and eye rapist.
Was I let down? As far as I'm concerned, no. It was fucking fantastic. I was so relieved it was too. From the shots straight from the comic book to the brilliant performances by Jackie Haley and Patrick Wilson to the very cool soundtrack I was happy. Its a tough job editing that story down to two and half hours and Snyder did it well. The new ending was also pretty awesome. I'm sure squids everywhere feel snubbed, but it was a clever and well crafted finish to it all. Layla liked it too even though she hadn't read the book and I was worried she'd be baffled. We then went to Wagamama's for the same food we always eat there and intense discussion on utilitarianism and how I wasn't just ogling Malin Akerman's arse all the way through. I was a bit, but I didn't want to ruin dinner. Although I am always tempted to ruin dinner in Wagamama's by scrawling different letters and numbers on the placemats so the waiters and waitresses' heads explode. Anyway end result, so see it. If you hate it because it isn't exactly like the book, grow up and deal with the fact that it would have to be a six hour film if it was. If you hate it, like my friend because the acting is a tad hammy in places, remember it comes from a comic. And if you hate it because the make-up on the actor playing Richard Nixon looks shit, well fair enough. I agree with that, its terrible. And for all those who miss giant squid check this out:
http://archives.cnn.com/2002/TECH/science/06/13/bloop/
That article has pretty much ensured I never swim in the sea ever again. Even though I'm sure its a group of gaseous whales farting all at the same time, the possibility I may get scooped by by giant tentacles means I am very happy with my over chlorinated pool with kids wee in it in Crouch End thanks very much. I'm sure those you enjoy calamari might be happy about it, but as far as I'm concerned its the most terrifying thing ever.
Will blog about today tomorrow. Sorry again for lateness, it won't happen again. Except maybe when I am in Glasgow without a computer over the weekend. Oops. Oh and if you are sad about todays late blog please do find Chris Coltrane on Facebook or Twitter (@chris_coltrane) and send him abuse. He deserves it all.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
The Longest Day Of My Life
Today is all about some spring cleaning followed by going to see Watchmen. I'm not massively happy about the first bit but I like the end result so as long as I can avoid all the bits I hate doing - hoovering, cleaning the loo, washing up, cleaning anything - then I'll be able to cope. Cleaning is incredibly dull and always will be, but there is a small part of it that I find therapeutic. Often I'll think of stand-up material while washing up. I think this is because I have to think I am doing anything but washing up. If I was to stop thinking of stand-up and realise what I was doing I would probably have a mental meltdown. Especially because we only have pink washing up gloves, which just seems wrong. I want gloves with the A-Team on then I would feel less disturbed by it all. Thats pictures of the A-Team, not the actual A-Team as it would just be very heavy and George Peppard's deceased corpse would not help the dishes get clean. Not even with Fairy.
Watchmen will be the reward for the weekend's work. I feel like I deserve a reward after yesterday. It was a 16 hour day involving some truly terrible times. Not all of it was terrible and to be fair to the 7th of March, it all started fairly well. A very easy drive to Brighton with Ryan award nominee for Best Passenger Tom Craine, where he lived up to his nomination by providing much banter despite having a cold and it being 11am. We then went on to do a really fun Comedy 4 Kids show. Nowhere near as mental as my last one in Aldershot, although there were some children who told us they had been at the pub before the show and a child who wanted money for his birthday so he could invest it. I am slightly worried that our future is even more pissed up irresponsible bankers. Tom had a lovely 5 minutes of stuff and the audience warmed to him very well until he ran out of the little bit of material he had worked out in the car. The crowd were nice enough though that they enjoyed him scrabbling about for gags and lasting another 5 minutes before running away. Most people when doing their first ever C4K gig spend weeks and weeks preparing. Tom decided that he wouldn't do any such thing and survived which is both admirable and very stupid. Luke Toulsen closed and had a great time although I think he was rather hurt that when he mentioned he was in Space Pirates one child shouted out 'Space Pirates is rubbish'. Once again the limitations of heckling children can make things difficult. Luke managed to get his own back by telling the kids they need to get better at Nativity plays because they are crap. The children did not like this but all the parents applauded. Its nice to know that mums and dads are willing to betray their support for their children when provoked.
Then after the show we grabbed some burgers at the ace Red Veg and all seemed good. Until Tom and me made a bad choice. We chose to leave vibrant, lively Brighton and head to Christchurch in Dorset. Our show wasnt until 10.30 at night, but we hadn't been to Christchurch before and we were sure there would be things to do to pass the time. We were so confident in this that we even by passed the awesome looking Arundal Castle on the way - a choice I will live to regret for the rest of my life. We could have gone to a castle where knights were and things, but instead we ended up in a place that was the epitomy of dull. Christchurch is one road long and that road is filled with restaurants that seem to close at 6 as thats when the population of mostly 70+ year olds go to sleep. We walked into the venue which was run by volunteers who all looked on their deathbeds to find that the show tonight was the first one they had done and they hadn't sold many tickets. Two of my favourite things to hear when turning up for a gig. It could only have got better if they had said 'oh and all the audience hate people called Tiernan and smell very strongly of urine to the point that your eyes will water'. We shuffled off to the green room and debated what to do with the next four hours.
Going into town was not an option mostly because there wasn't really a town and it was cold. Writing new material seemed like too much effort and my suggestion of just driving at top speeds around Christchurch hoping to have an accident and get home quicker were rejected by Tom. So instead Craine had a nap and kindly lent me his laptop to play 90's classic Day of The Tentacle for three hours. We literally sat in the green room for three hours. Jack Bauer knows nothing of long days. It felt like we were both Steve McQueen in the Great Escape sitting in solitary confinement waiting to be free. Except instead of a bouncy ball we had a laptop and instead of the Nazis outside we had the grim reality of a Dorset town that fun had forgot. We waited and waited and waited. Then at 9pm we broke and decided to go and walk around town again. We lasted one lap and then decided that apart from the man dressed in a kilt and dancing to his own portable radio, there was nothing of worth in this place and headed back to our safe haven. The final hour was tough. We started drinking coffee creamers to see which type was best. Then finally when all seemed lost, 10 o clock happened and we strolled downstairs to see our crowd enter. All 20 of them were ancient. Really ancient. Now I don't want to be ageist but we would have been able to do more current jokes to a bunch of Egyptian mummified corpses. The tech staff's choice of house music was none other than that great comedy warm up act Enya. Her soothing sounds prepared the audience for a sermon or as Tom suggested a eulogy, neither of which were what we planned to do. I tried to warn the final act Howard Read of the weirdness, but as I called him one of the tech staff who looked a bit like a child version of Herman Munster walked in, as though he knew he was foiling my plans.
Tom started very well. He managed to engage them in banter, find out about the area and not swear. That was the bit that really fucked me off. I wanted to know if I could swear, but Tom had been really smart and not done it, which left it to me to find out. Bastard. I then stumbled on, in a cabin fever like daze and bashed out 20 minutes of Comedy 4 Kids type material. I even said 'poo' and 'wee' once. The one occasion I had to swear I asked for their permission first and was granted it, but they still didn't laugh at the joke. It was horrible and I genuinely think I would have got a better response gigging at a morgue. To be fair some of those people wouldn't have long to go before they end up in one. The second section got better. Tom once again did a lovely job and then Howard went on not giving a damn about swearing and they loved most of it. Except when he swore. I made the mistake of leaving the gig room to wander around and got stuck talking to the venue manager about cutting grass because he was as boring as everyone else. Then finally the sweet release of the end of the show. We grabbed all our stuff and got out of there as quick as possible and we thought the hell was over with.
Two and half hours of driving home and the banter between Tom and I had reached insanity levels. We spent over 45 minutes thinking of medieval puns that you could do on stage if dressed as a knight. This was to make up for my remorse at not visiting Arundel castle. Tom trumped it with saying 'please don't talk during the acts as we don't want any stirrups'. Other winners were ' Its going to a great night on this lovely Friar-day', 'Gaun-lets start', and ' thanks and good knight'. As you can see, it all got quite bad. We moved on to some Mitch Hedburg and episodes of Dave Gorman's Genius on the i-pod and all seemed like it was going to end ok. Then we hit the Blackwall Tunnel at 2am and were stuck in solid traffic for 30 minutes. It was like Sod himself had pissed in our very eyes. There was really no need for that and I think that was when I broke, sending streams of swear words into the ether to make up for the lack of swears at kids and olds shows. I hit my swear quota for the day and maxed it out, which made me feel a tad better. I eventually dropped Tom off at 2.40am having picked him up at 11am, then made it home myself for 3.15. Sometimes it does make you wonder if this job is worth it.
Watchmen had better be good or I really might cry.
Watchmen will be the reward for the weekend's work. I feel like I deserve a reward after yesterday. It was a 16 hour day involving some truly terrible times. Not all of it was terrible and to be fair to the 7th of March, it all started fairly well. A very easy drive to Brighton with Ryan award nominee for Best Passenger Tom Craine, where he lived up to his nomination by providing much banter despite having a cold and it being 11am. We then went on to do a really fun Comedy 4 Kids show. Nowhere near as mental as my last one in Aldershot, although there were some children who told us they had been at the pub before the show and a child who wanted money for his birthday so he could invest it. I am slightly worried that our future is even more pissed up irresponsible bankers. Tom had a lovely 5 minutes of stuff and the audience warmed to him very well until he ran out of the little bit of material he had worked out in the car. The crowd were nice enough though that they enjoyed him scrabbling about for gags and lasting another 5 minutes before running away. Most people when doing their first ever C4K gig spend weeks and weeks preparing. Tom decided that he wouldn't do any such thing and survived which is both admirable and very stupid. Luke Toulsen closed and had a great time although I think he was rather hurt that when he mentioned he was in Space Pirates one child shouted out 'Space Pirates is rubbish'. Once again the limitations of heckling children can make things difficult. Luke managed to get his own back by telling the kids they need to get better at Nativity plays because they are crap. The children did not like this but all the parents applauded. Its nice to know that mums and dads are willing to betray their support for their children when provoked.
Then after the show we grabbed some burgers at the ace Red Veg and all seemed good. Until Tom and me made a bad choice. We chose to leave vibrant, lively Brighton and head to Christchurch in Dorset. Our show wasnt until 10.30 at night, but we hadn't been to Christchurch before and we were sure there would be things to do to pass the time. We were so confident in this that we even by passed the awesome looking Arundal Castle on the way - a choice I will live to regret for the rest of my life. We could have gone to a castle where knights were and things, but instead we ended up in a place that was the epitomy of dull. Christchurch is one road long and that road is filled with restaurants that seem to close at 6 as thats when the population of mostly 70+ year olds go to sleep. We walked into the venue which was run by volunteers who all looked on their deathbeds to find that the show tonight was the first one they had done and they hadn't sold many tickets. Two of my favourite things to hear when turning up for a gig. It could only have got better if they had said 'oh and all the audience hate people called Tiernan and smell very strongly of urine to the point that your eyes will water'. We shuffled off to the green room and debated what to do with the next four hours.
Going into town was not an option mostly because there wasn't really a town and it was cold. Writing new material seemed like too much effort and my suggestion of just driving at top speeds around Christchurch hoping to have an accident and get home quicker were rejected by Tom. So instead Craine had a nap and kindly lent me his laptop to play 90's classic Day of The Tentacle for three hours. We literally sat in the green room for three hours. Jack Bauer knows nothing of long days. It felt like we were both Steve McQueen in the Great Escape sitting in solitary confinement waiting to be free. Except instead of a bouncy ball we had a laptop and instead of the Nazis outside we had the grim reality of a Dorset town that fun had forgot. We waited and waited and waited. Then at 9pm we broke and decided to go and walk around town again. We lasted one lap and then decided that apart from the man dressed in a kilt and dancing to his own portable radio, there was nothing of worth in this place and headed back to our safe haven. The final hour was tough. We started drinking coffee creamers to see which type was best. Then finally when all seemed lost, 10 o clock happened and we strolled downstairs to see our crowd enter. All 20 of them were ancient. Really ancient. Now I don't want to be ageist but we would have been able to do more current jokes to a bunch of Egyptian mummified corpses. The tech staff's choice of house music was none other than that great comedy warm up act Enya. Her soothing sounds prepared the audience for a sermon or as Tom suggested a eulogy, neither of which were what we planned to do. I tried to warn the final act Howard Read of the weirdness, but as I called him one of the tech staff who looked a bit like a child version of Herman Munster walked in, as though he knew he was foiling my plans.
Tom started very well. He managed to engage them in banter, find out about the area and not swear. That was the bit that really fucked me off. I wanted to know if I could swear, but Tom had been really smart and not done it, which left it to me to find out. Bastard. I then stumbled on, in a cabin fever like daze and bashed out 20 minutes of Comedy 4 Kids type material. I even said 'poo' and 'wee' once. The one occasion I had to swear I asked for their permission first and was granted it, but they still didn't laugh at the joke. It was horrible and I genuinely think I would have got a better response gigging at a morgue. To be fair some of those people wouldn't have long to go before they end up in one. The second section got better. Tom once again did a lovely job and then Howard went on not giving a damn about swearing and they loved most of it. Except when he swore. I made the mistake of leaving the gig room to wander around and got stuck talking to the venue manager about cutting grass because he was as boring as everyone else. Then finally the sweet release of the end of the show. We grabbed all our stuff and got out of there as quick as possible and we thought the hell was over with.
Two and half hours of driving home and the banter between Tom and I had reached insanity levels. We spent over 45 minutes thinking of medieval puns that you could do on stage if dressed as a knight. This was to make up for my remorse at not visiting Arundel castle. Tom trumped it with saying 'please don't talk during the acts as we don't want any stirrups'. Other winners were ' Its going to a great night on this lovely Friar-day', 'Gaun-lets start', and ' thanks and good knight'. As you can see, it all got quite bad. We moved on to some Mitch Hedburg and episodes of Dave Gorman's Genius on the i-pod and all seemed like it was going to end ok. Then we hit the Blackwall Tunnel at 2am and were stuck in solid traffic for 30 minutes. It was like Sod himself had pissed in our very eyes. There was really no need for that and I think that was when I broke, sending streams of swear words into the ether to make up for the lack of swears at kids and olds shows. I hit my swear quota for the day and maxed it out, which made me feel a tad better. I eventually dropped Tom off at 2.40am having picked him up at 11am, then made it home myself for 3.15. Sometimes it does make you wonder if this job is worth it.
Watchmen had better be good or I really might cry.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Here's one I prepared earlier...
Two gigs today, and the first one is Comedy 4 Kids which starts at 2pm meaning I have to leave at 11am. Rather than get up earlier to blog, this entry, in the Blue Peter sense, has been prepared earlier. About 9 hours earlier in fact, so in less eloquent terms, this verbal spew is pretty fresh. Its like hot off the press. Events occurring in this blog happened mere hours before the writing commenced. There is something exciting about this change of routine. Normally I would stay up now, being massively useless to everyone and then tomorrow whenever I wake up I would try and recall enough to write about it. But now, I feel a bit like I might be blogging for Reuters or someone who would need on the scene updates. Of course the world would have to be in a significantly dull place for Reuters to be interested in what I'm doing but its cheerier than the credit crunch so it can go in that nice bit at the end of the news where they stick items like the dog who called the police or the girl who raised money for charity by swimming around the world twice in her pajamas.
The gig I've just returned from really wasn't worth me mentioning now. A pained little arts centre gig where the crowd didn't seem to want to participate in the show at all. Well not with me anyway. They were nice with Stuart Goldsmith and then very nice for Ian Cognito who had a stormer, but they didn't like talking to me one bit. The term 'blood out of a stone' is an understatement when talking about trying to banter with these people. A more correct term would be 'like getting the bonuses back from Goodwin' or something similarly impossible. Instead I will tell you the good bits, the highlights if you will. The first was that backstage they had a tupperware box that was the exact size to fit three, and only three chocolate digestive biscuits. Now it may seem that only three is a bit stingy on the venues behalf but I ignored this to be overjoyed that tupperware had become food specific. I knew there was one for bananas but I did not know they were expanding. I would like to see more of this. A tupperware for 12 crisps would be good, as would half a pot of yoghurt and seven noodles. I would never use that I as like eating real amounts, its just that the OCD part of me likes it when things have a place.
Another highlight was that Stuart taught me the phrase 'Crate Slug'. This does not refer to a kind of slug, nor does it refer to a slow walk or crap dance. What it is, is a term for those massive wankers who dress up in gold or silver (usually) and stand very still on crates in places like Covent Garden expecting people to give them money because they don't fidget, cough or do anything that requires any talent. Some might say standing still is a talent. Its not. I couldn't do it, just because I'd get bored, but there are lots of people who could. People who suffer from paralysis for example. They'd be ace it, but they've got better things to do than lower themselves to being dressed like a silver Boudica. Stuart, as well as doing comedy, is also a street performer and does the warm up for Loose Women. Both of these are impressive things to be able to do. I'm not sure which I'd be worst at. I can't juggle to save my life but at the same time I usually have to turn the TV off within 40 seconds of any of those vacuous women saying things that set the course of feminism back by 50 years. Today the really stupid blonde one who looks all thin but has a face like an unhappy witch said that she thought Margaret Thatcher was brilliant. Idiot.
It was nice to know that street performers have a dislike for 'Crate Slugs' too and Stuart told me the history of how they have evolved (or for creationists 'how they have evolved', now grow up) from mime, but taken the lazy option of not really miming. Or doing anything. Except looking like the Tin Man from the Wizard Of Oz if he'd run out of WD40. I like street performers and am constantly impressed by good ones. Covent Garden in particular used to be brilliantly filled with jugglers, musicians and unicyclists, but now it has become over-run with crate slugs. I say 'over-run' but it should be 'over-stood'. One day if I get the chance I am going to go around putting itching powder in all their suits. Of course then people would probably give more money to watch funky dancing Boudica.
I had a whole load of podcasts lined up for the journey today which I was pleased with. One Adam and Joe, two Collins and Herring and four Mark Thomas. They were all very good and nearly perfectly timed so that I could also tune into Mark Lamarr's Radio 2 show after I'd got through them. I like it when I unintentionally become a programmer for my evenings aural entertainment. I say it a lot, but Lamarr's show God's Jukebox really is one of the best radio shows on air. He plays such a variety of stuff and seems so enthusiastic about it all its a joy to listen to. Tonight there was an amazing steel drum band on. I have lots of respect for steel drum bands as I have tried hitting a wok and saucepan to a rhythm and its not easy. Its definitely not easy getting that many notes out of them, especially if you are cooking with them at the same time. It must be really hard for Lamarr to do such a good show when he has to follow Claudia Winkleman who presents her radio show as though she is a kid who's been allowed to have a go on a dictaphone for a few hours. She's way too over excited by all her guests and yet doesn't seem to listen to anything they say. She then often blurts out whatever was in her brain without any sort of censor to stop her from sounding like a twat. The bit of the show I was unfortunate enough to catch had her interviewing Dame Joan Bakewell and included this bit of chat:
Dame Joan Bakewell - 'What they mean was that comradeship, intensity and that closeness that thrill of surviving you know coming through a battle.'
Claudia idiot - 'Yes and also that sort of intensity.'
SHE'S JUST SAID THAT YOU IDIOT! YOU CAN'T JUST REPEAT IT AGAIN, WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN? Luckily within 2 minutes the steel band were on and I could cope again.
We will return to your normal blog schedule on Sunday. Till then think of me getting screamed at 8 year olds followed by getting screamed at by drunk people in Dorset.
The gig I've just returned from really wasn't worth me mentioning now. A pained little arts centre gig where the crowd didn't seem to want to participate in the show at all. Well not with me anyway. They were nice with Stuart Goldsmith and then very nice for Ian Cognito who had a stormer, but they didn't like talking to me one bit. The term 'blood out of a stone' is an understatement when talking about trying to banter with these people. A more correct term would be 'like getting the bonuses back from Goodwin' or something similarly impossible. Instead I will tell you the good bits, the highlights if you will. The first was that backstage they had a tupperware box that was the exact size to fit three, and only three chocolate digestive biscuits. Now it may seem that only three is a bit stingy on the venues behalf but I ignored this to be overjoyed that tupperware had become food specific. I knew there was one for bananas but I did not know they were expanding. I would like to see more of this. A tupperware for 12 crisps would be good, as would half a pot of yoghurt and seven noodles. I would never use that I as like eating real amounts, its just that the OCD part of me likes it when things have a place.
Another highlight was that Stuart taught me the phrase 'Crate Slug'. This does not refer to a kind of slug, nor does it refer to a slow walk or crap dance. What it is, is a term for those massive wankers who dress up in gold or silver (usually) and stand very still on crates in places like Covent Garden expecting people to give them money because they don't fidget, cough or do anything that requires any talent. Some might say standing still is a talent. Its not. I couldn't do it, just because I'd get bored, but there are lots of people who could. People who suffer from paralysis for example. They'd be ace it, but they've got better things to do than lower themselves to being dressed like a silver Boudica. Stuart, as well as doing comedy, is also a street performer and does the warm up for Loose Women. Both of these are impressive things to be able to do. I'm not sure which I'd be worst at. I can't juggle to save my life but at the same time I usually have to turn the TV off within 40 seconds of any of those vacuous women saying things that set the course of feminism back by 50 years. Today the really stupid blonde one who looks all thin but has a face like an unhappy witch said that she thought Margaret Thatcher was brilliant. Idiot.
It was nice to know that street performers have a dislike for 'Crate Slugs' too and Stuart told me the history of how they have evolved (or for creationists 'how they have evolved', now grow up) from mime, but taken the lazy option of not really miming. Or doing anything. Except looking like the Tin Man from the Wizard Of Oz if he'd run out of WD40. I like street performers and am constantly impressed by good ones. Covent Garden in particular used to be brilliantly filled with jugglers, musicians and unicyclists, but now it has become over-run with crate slugs. I say 'over-run' but it should be 'over-stood'. One day if I get the chance I am going to go around putting itching powder in all their suits. Of course then people would probably give more money to watch funky dancing Boudica.
I had a whole load of podcasts lined up for the journey today which I was pleased with. One Adam and Joe, two Collins and Herring and four Mark Thomas. They were all very good and nearly perfectly timed so that I could also tune into Mark Lamarr's Radio 2 show after I'd got through them. I like it when I unintentionally become a programmer for my evenings aural entertainment. I say it a lot, but Lamarr's show God's Jukebox really is one of the best radio shows on air. He plays such a variety of stuff and seems so enthusiastic about it all its a joy to listen to. Tonight there was an amazing steel drum band on. I have lots of respect for steel drum bands as I have tried hitting a wok and saucepan to a rhythm and its not easy. Its definitely not easy getting that many notes out of them, especially if you are cooking with them at the same time. It must be really hard for Lamarr to do such a good show when he has to follow Claudia Winkleman who presents her radio show as though she is a kid who's been allowed to have a go on a dictaphone for a few hours. She's way too over excited by all her guests and yet doesn't seem to listen to anything they say. She then often blurts out whatever was in her brain without any sort of censor to stop her from sounding like a twat. The bit of the show I was unfortunate enough to catch had her interviewing Dame Joan Bakewell and included this bit of chat:
Dame Joan Bakewell - 'What they mean was that comradeship, intensity and that closeness that thrill of surviving you know coming through a battle.'
Claudia idiot - 'Yes and also that sort of intensity.'
SHE'S JUST SAID THAT YOU IDIOT! YOU CAN'T JUST REPEAT IT AGAIN, WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN? Luckily within 2 minutes the steel band were on and I could cope again.
We will return to your normal blog schedule on Sunday. Till then think of me getting screamed at 8 year olds followed by getting screamed at by drunk people in Dorset.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Worry and Glee
I keep seeing a lot of Graffiti Response Team vans around my area at the moment. The teams are dressed in full nuclear reaction boiler suit garb and they have a go at walls with big scrubbing brushes and the sort of venom you find only in heads of neighbourhood watch schemes. I'm not sure if this is an efficient way to respond to graffiti. Essentially you are just cleaning the pallet allowing them to re-spray whatever they like on it. These people are becoming the graff artists eraser. I honestly think the only way you can retaliate to graffiti is by doing bigger graffiti over it. Isn't that how graff gangs would respond to each other? I'd like to see lots of graffers jump out of these vans and spray over pre-done graffiti with their own stuff to show them whose wall it is. Big letters saying 'Haringay Graff Team Just Served You Fools!' I think graffiti brightens up an area. There is a long strip of purposefully graffed wall on Holloway Road and it stands out because its the only bit of the street that isn't dirty and has piss on it. I myself own some spray paints. I spent a while being entertained by the idea that I could show some skills with it, but instead I managed to spray one tunnel in Canterbury before I got too scared and never did it again. It looked good though and I did it while wearing a hoodie and listening to Pete Rock and CL Smooth so it was authentic if nothing else. Sadly the tunnel got painted in a garish orange as a response to my art. Philistines.
I have a habit of making myself get more worked up about certain things than I should. I had to take my driving test too many times because while confident on the road I already assumed I would fail and then would get in the car with the instructor a bag of nerves and fail it in seconds. There was also the one test where an old man crossed the road in front of me on the zebra crossing while an ambulance switched it sirens on behind me. I failed that one because I took too long to decide what to do. That seemed really unfair at the time. Run over the man or block the ambulance? That's not really a choice. Although I realise now, much later that I should have run over the man as the ambulance was just there to get him. Apart from that one the first test I got into the car so bored of doing it and not caring, I passed. Well it was that and the fact that I did an intensive course in Blackpool where they only have about 4 roads and a Pleasure beach that is the most miserable strip of land I have ever been on. When I think of a pleasure beach I imagine a paradisaical island of white sand and blue sea. In Blackpool they seemed to have imagined fat ladies doing the can can, kids gambling, Bernard Manning tributes and the Doctor Who experience (which is one dalek and some sticks of rock. To be fair going to Blackpool is like going back in time so I suppose that's what they are banking on).
There are a handful of gigs I manage to work myself up about in the same way. One is the Comedy Store. Everytime I do a spot there I seem to be able to convince myself I'm probably going to mess it up and as a result get on stage completely unready. It never helps to walk in via all the pics of all the acts that have played there, Eddie Izzard, Robin Williams etc. It also doesn't help that two of the worst deaths I've ever had were at the Store and the worst heckle too. One death was a 5 min spot where half the audience got up and went for a cigarette when I went on stage. I couldn't compete with the general chat over me and it went horribly wrong. The second experience was a late show 10 where the same thing happened only nastier and more drunk. Oddly the worst heckle was a fairly nice gig, but I had a stupid part of my set where I asked the audience to heckle me, so I could respond in a certain way. After two easy ones ('You're shit' and 'Get Off') this woman at the front stood up and said very loudly 'Suck the Blood from my bleeding c*nt you motherf*cker'. I was not expecting that, and neither were the audience. There was a pause and then the biggest laugh anyone had got all night. I couldn't really come back from that one so early in my comedy career and just sort of shuffled off. Lots of acts and agents have since heard of the demon heckle and Omid Dijalili once started telling me the story about it before I had to tell him I was the victim in the tale.
The other gig is the Glee in Birmingham. I have done two tens there previously, the last one being about two years ago. One went well the other went not very well at all, and the latter was the sort of experience that had stayed with me for a while. So last night I returned for my first 20 set, and I was a tad worried. I had really worked myself up into a bit of state about it, having spent most of yesterday going over my set about 50 times in my head. I got the venue far too early and paced around backstage like I was on a circular treadmill. I almost made myself dizzy. I shouldn't have been worried at all. Everyone at the Glee is so hospitable and lovely and I was looked after the second I arrived. The crowd were not as busy as usual were on top form. I ended up having a great set, doing my material in a completely different order to how I'd planned and the Glee peoples even let me run over a tad because I was enjoying it so much. It just goes to show that I really shouldn't wind myself up about it. Although I am now convinced that it was only nice because it was a Thursday and that Fridays will be a nightmare. I really should stop thinking sometimes. Although some would argue that I haven't ever started.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)