This is a non-blog today, mostly because today is filled with other busy things, and I got up later than I meant to. I seem to have lost my iPod again and so have spent large amounts of time looking for it. For something so filled with music, its amazing it doesn't make any noise when you need to find it. Steve Jobs that is your next task. Then in a few mins I have to go to the garage to get my headlight bulbs repaired on the car. This is a job I would be able to do myself if VW weren't so evil that the headlights are encased in a cover that requires a special screwdriver that only garages have and I can't buy in a shop. If you attempt to remove them without using this screwdriver the bulb cracks and breaks causing glassy hell death. Its like a secret trap devised by an arsehole. I have asked the garage if they can just let me buy the screwdriver, but they know this loses them all the power and so they constantly refuse. One day I will operate a large scale plan whereby I attach a small pulley to the mechanic's braces on his overalls and then steal the screwdriver and drive off, while they are unable to get too far without being pulled back. As I run away I'll scream 'Now its you who've been jacked!' The only side effects to this is that I will have to get the car MOT'd somewhere else.
Then after all that I'm going to Crewe for another Jim Jeffries tour gig. I've never been to Crewe, but by accounts of its name I expect there are a decent group of people there. At least enough to man a ship anyway.
So no time for blog and instead I thought I'd share this with you which is my new favouritest thing as of late last night:
For you on Facebook here's the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRPJh-LJq1o
Enjoy that.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Cat vs Tree
Current tree versus cat scores stand today at:
Cats (aka Rosie and Bella): 8 baubles(four smashed, another four detached and lost for sometime before we could find them again)
Tree: 1 (slightly disgruntled cat when bauble fell on her head as she knocked it off the tree)
Its fair to say the cats are winning so far and I'm beginning to regret buying a tree in the first place. What I should have done instead is just buy a scratching post and draw some mistletoe on it. I feel that would've caused less damage and provided the cats with what they actually want. They are tiny machines of destruction, furballs of mayhem, felines of hell. Its lucky I don't believe in Santa anymore otherwise I would live in fear that a) he wouldn't be able to get into our flat due to a lack of chimney and b) that once he arrived his knees would be shredded to pieces by Rosie and Bella. I'm not sure how you deal with behavourial problems in animals. To be fair its only really one of our cats. Bella has become increasingly fat and lazy and is less interested in attacking festive objects than just eating and eating. She has tried to eat the Christmas tree but quickly noticed that pines are not that edible and apart from the odd erratic nibble at one of the lower branches, has generally left it alone. It's Rosie thats the problem. She hasn't grown much since being a kitten which I think is ace, but is possibly a bit sad amongst the cat community. She also still behaves like a kitten and I'm starting to wonder if she's a bit special needs. She is still amazed by anything shiny and anything that moves. The baubles are shiny and when she hits them, they swing. This puts them in the prime position for cat rage. Poor baubles. Designed for enjoyment instead they are unwittingly like a small rotund shiny red rag to a tiny hornless angry bull.
However I am starting to side with the cats. In an attempt to make the whole room festive, Layla has hung further decorations from our garden door (this looks nice) and from the lights in the living room including a large bauble that hangs slightly too low into the centre of our living room. As a result I have no banged my head on it roughly 12 times. I am considering untieing it and rolling it under the sofa claiming that Rosie has superhuman abilities and is able to leap 5 foot up from the ground. Then we will spend years taking her to Britain's Got Talent type shows in order to showcase such abilities, only for her to tear Piers Morgan's knees off and we will be hailed as champions.
Fat Tuesday was brilliant last night. There was a low point where just before the gig the spotlight didn't work. As I had walked there in order to have some booze, I had to jump in a cab back to mine just to get the spare bulb. The cab driver took the longest time possible in order to get to mine and talked only in mumbles. I presume that all cab drivers may now be employing such tactics to avoid being blamed for claims that start wars. Surely now knowing that the WMD 45 minutes claim was all from a cabbie and as it was stated 'some of the other claims were just lies', it should now be evident it was an illegal war the whole time? It also failed to mention how in the rest of the dossier it included a racist gag and a map of Baghdad with the longest route round it drawn on and assurance it was definitely the fastest way to the airport.
Cats (aka Rosie and Bella): 8 baubles(four smashed, another four detached and lost for sometime before we could find them again)
Tree: 1 (slightly disgruntled cat when bauble fell on her head as she knocked it off the tree)
Its fair to say the cats are winning so far and I'm beginning to regret buying a tree in the first place. What I should have done instead is just buy a scratching post and draw some mistletoe on it. I feel that would've caused less damage and provided the cats with what they actually want. They are tiny machines of destruction, furballs of mayhem, felines of hell. Its lucky I don't believe in Santa anymore otherwise I would live in fear that a) he wouldn't be able to get into our flat due to a lack of chimney and b) that once he arrived his knees would be shredded to pieces by Rosie and Bella. I'm not sure how you deal with behavourial problems in animals. To be fair its only really one of our cats. Bella has become increasingly fat and lazy and is less interested in attacking festive objects than just eating and eating. She has tried to eat the Christmas tree but quickly noticed that pines are not that edible and apart from the odd erratic nibble at one of the lower branches, has generally left it alone. It's Rosie thats the problem. She hasn't grown much since being a kitten which I think is ace, but is possibly a bit sad amongst the cat community. She also still behaves like a kitten and I'm starting to wonder if she's a bit special needs. She is still amazed by anything shiny and anything that moves. The baubles are shiny and when she hits them, they swing. This puts them in the prime position for cat rage. Poor baubles. Designed for enjoyment instead they are unwittingly like a small rotund shiny red rag to a tiny hornless angry bull.
However I am starting to side with the cats. In an attempt to make the whole room festive, Layla has hung further decorations from our garden door (this looks nice) and from the lights in the living room including a large bauble that hangs slightly too low into the centre of our living room. As a result I have no banged my head on it roughly 12 times. I am considering untieing it and rolling it under the sofa claiming that Rosie has superhuman abilities and is able to leap 5 foot up from the ground. Then we will spend years taking her to Britain's Got Talent type shows in order to showcase such abilities, only for her to tear Piers Morgan's knees off and we will be hailed as champions.
Fat Tuesday was brilliant last night. There was a low point where just before the gig the spotlight didn't work. As I had walked there in order to have some booze, I had to jump in a cab back to mine just to get the spare bulb. The cab driver took the longest time possible in order to get to mine and talked only in mumbles. I presume that all cab drivers may now be employing such tactics to avoid being blamed for claims that start wars. Surely now knowing that the WMD 45 minutes claim was all from a cabbie and as it was stated 'some of the other claims were just lies', it should now be evident it was an illegal war the whole time? It also failed to mention how in the rest of the dossier it included a racist gag and a map of Baghdad with the longest route round it drawn on and assurance it was definitely the fastest way to the airport.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
FUTURE MAN
It is international Pretend You're A Time Traveller Day today, and as I am going to spend most of my day indoors writing, I won't be able to run around pretending to be from a Dystopian future, nor would it be particularly sensible to host the whole of Fat Tuesday constantly screaming 'WHAT YEAR IS THIS?' at the audience and demanding they start killing all the household pets now, for they do not know what they will do in years to come. I feel like that may not warm them up in the way I probably should. So not wanting to disregard this rather awesome day, that should indeed become a worldwide day off and celebration, here is a short story I have just made up about a man from the future:
FUTURE MAN
'I arrive from the future with urgent news', he said in a distinctly deadpan voice. I debated for a second whether or not to take him seriously. He had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, right into my living room. I had been rather interested in seeing exactly how the Scofe was going to tactfully ask the severe burns victim why she was releasing 'Come On Baby Light My Fire' for charity, while Willoughby merely giggled to cover up her inability to understand why the woman's face wasn't as pretty as hers, but I decided that a man arriving in my living room condoned turning the TV off for at least a minute. The sudden appearance was almost certainly a reason to believe whatever he was about to say next. The only other person I'd ever seen do that was the Dungeon Master in Dungeons and Dragons, and yes, while that was a cartoon, you would always be sure that the kids had listen to what he said or Venger would get his evil way. So I was fairly certain this man, who I was sure was not a cartoon, appearing just past my coffee table, was a big deal. On the other hand, any importance he may have had was immediately demeaned by the large colander he wore on his head. It didn't entirely fit his head either, it lopped slightly to the left and meant he was unable to see out of the corresponding eye, causing him to squint. It did not quite fit the rest of his clothing, a muddy brown suit and tie, with a grubby shirt that was once close to white but now looked more grey than the eyes of office worker who had used their last few days holiday for another year having to move house because their landlord had discovered they owned a cat. And then, there was his tone of voice. I would have said it was sarcastic. The extreme lack of effort at making the word 'urgent' sound at all urgent made me think that it probably wasn't.
'Hello' I responded, and he paused for a minute, slightly taken back at my calmness. It was hard to be alarmed by a man with a kitchen utensil impairing his vision. 'I arrive from the future with urgent news', he repeated again, with the same intonation on each word. 'Cup of tea?' I offered, but his face contorted as though he hadn't quite prepared for this. 'No...thank you.' He added as an afterthought. 'I don't have time for tea, this is important.' Again 'important' was said with all the gusto that you might use the same word to say how important it is you don't have another drink at the bar, before proceeding to down three tequilas and say yes to another. 'Ok. Fire away'. There was a small moment of further confusion, and I quickly amended my previous sentence and said 'Ok, go ahead, what is the news?' He cleared his throat and then said as though the script were imprinted on the underside of his collander 'In the future the world is a desecrated landscape. The skies are blackened, children are starving, no one has an iPod.' I gasped in shock. ' To prevent this from happening you must tell the world to stop....' he paused for dramatic effect. '...to stop.....eating vegetables without washing them in only the best colanders!' He took the collander off his head to reveal some overgelled blonde hair and disturbingly thin eyebrows. With a flick of his wrist he revealed two courgettes from his sleeve and a bottle of water from his pocket. He started to pour the water on the courgettes singing 'you won't regret, washing a courgette, in a collanderrrr! Don't give a wince, put a carrot to rinse, in a collanderrrr!'
After he'd finished his song and dance he noticed I was just sitting staring at him with some bewilderment. Its hard to do bewilderment accurately. Too little and you look like you aren't really all that bewildered. Too much and its reminiscent of Scooby Doo which can seem mocking to that which you have been bewildered by. 'Have you stopped now?' I asked the man. 'Yes' he mawkishly replied. 'Are you really from the future?' 'Yes', he replied again, even more embarrased at himself. 'I come from 2117. And...' He kicked his feet around a bit and gently put his collander down on our carpet, managing to completely ignore the puddle of wet floor he had created around him. It would be at least two kitchen rolls before that was soaked up. '...and...I wondered if you'd like to buy a collander for the introductory price of £19.56 for 7 months and then £25 a month for the next 6.' 'No' I said rather bluntly. 'I have a collander already thanks'. 'Oh.' He seemed rather taken aback by this. There was some flustering and he quickly put the collander back on his head, water dripping onto his brown suit and shoved the two very clean courgettes back into his sleeves.
'So you have time travel in 2117?' He nodded. 'And all you use it for is to sell collanders?' He nodded again, before quickly adding that it wasn't just collanders, it was all sorts of kitchen implements, double glazing and it was just starting to be used for compilation albums of the greatest hits of the 60s. I asked him if he'd ever thought of using the time machine to change the outcome of the world? To kill Hitler or prevent global warming? The future man said no one had ever really thought of that and that he might mention it at lunchtime if he gets a minute's break. He apologised for wasting my time and gave me his card should my collander ever break and I am without clean vegetables for more than a few days. And then, he was gone. Is that what the world had come to? Finally we invent a way to traverse the concept of time, and delve into the past or future with no end of possibilities and that is how its used? More importantly, I thought everyone had a collander? Is it not standard? So much to think about. I lay the kitchen roll down on the carpet, and put the television back on just in time see Phillip accidentally say the woman's song was 'hot stuff'. He's a legend.
FUTURE MAN
'I arrive from the future with urgent news', he said in a distinctly deadpan voice. I debated for a second whether or not to take him seriously. He had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, right into my living room. I had been rather interested in seeing exactly how the Scofe was going to tactfully ask the severe burns victim why she was releasing 'Come On Baby Light My Fire' for charity, while Willoughby merely giggled to cover up her inability to understand why the woman's face wasn't as pretty as hers, but I decided that a man arriving in my living room condoned turning the TV off for at least a minute. The sudden appearance was almost certainly a reason to believe whatever he was about to say next. The only other person I'd ever seen do that was the Dungeon Master in Dungeons and Dragons, and yes, while that was a cartoon, you would always be sure that the kids had listen to what he said or Venger would get his evil way. So I was fairly certain this man, who I was sure was not a cartoon, appearing just past my coffee table, was a big deal. On the other hand, any importance he may have had was immediately demeaned by the large colander he wore on his head. It didn't entirely fit his head either, it lopped slightly to the left and meant he was unable to see out of the corresponding eye, causing him to squint. It did not quite fit the rest of his clothing, a muddy brown suit and tie, with a grubby shirt that was once close to white but now looked more grey than the eyes of office worker who had used their last few days holiday for another year having to move house because their landlord had discovered they owned a cat. And then, there was his tone of voice. I would have said it was sarcastic. The extreme lack of effort at making the word 'urgent' sound at all urgent made me think that it probably wasn't.
'Hello' I responded, and he paused for a minute, slightly taken back at my calmness. It was hard to be alarmed by a man with a kitchen utensil impairing his vision. 'I arrive from the future with urgent news', he repeated again, with the same intonation on each word. 'Cup of tea?' I offered, but his face contorted as though he hadn't quite prepared for this. 'No...thank you.' He added as an afterthought. 'I don't have time for tea, this is important.' Again 'important' was said with all the gusto that you might use the same word to say how important it is you don't have another drink at the bar, before proceeding to down three tequilas and say yes to another. 'Ok. Fire away'. There was a small moment of further confusion, and I quickly amended my previous sentence and said 'Ok, go ahead, what is the news?' He cleared his throat and then said as though the script were imprinted on the underside of his collander 'In the future the world is a desecrated landscape. The skies are blackened, children are starving, no one has an iPod.' I gasped in shock. ' To prevent this from happening you must tell the world to stop....' he paused for dramatic effect. '...to stop.....eating vegetables without washing them in only the best colanders!' He took the collander off his head to reveal some overgelled blonde hair and disturbingly thin eyebrows. With a flick of his wrist he revealed two courgettes from his sleeve and a bottle of water from his pocket. He started to pour the water on the courgettes singing 'you won't regret, washing a courgette, in a collanderrrr! Don't give a wince, put a carrot to rinse, in a collanderrrr!'
After he'd finished his song and dance he noticed I was just sitting staring at him with some bewilderment. Its hard to do bewilderment accurately. Too little and you look like you aren't really all that bewildered. Too much and its reminiscent of Scooby Doo which can seem mocking to that which you have been bewildered by. 'Have you stopped now?' I asked the man. 'Yes' he mawkishly replied. 'Are you really from the future?' 'Yes', he replied again, even more embarrased at himself. 'I come from 2117. And...' He kicked his feet around a bit and gently put his collander down on our carpet, managing to completely ignore the puddle of wet floor he had created around him. It would be at least two kitchen rolls before that was soaked up. '...and...I wondered if you'd like to buy a collander for the introductory price of £19.56 for 7 months and then £25 a month for the next 6.' 'No' I said rather bluntly. 'I have a collander already thanks'. 'Oh.' He seemed rather taken aback by this. There was some flustering and he quickly put the collander back on his head, water dripping onto his brown suit and shoved the two very clean courgettes back into his sleeves.
'So you have time travel in 2117?' He nodded. 'And all you use it for is to sell collanders?' He nodded again, before quickly adding that it wasn't just collanders, it was all sorts of kitchen implements, double glazing and it was just starting to be used for compilation albums of the greatest hits of the 60s. I asked him if he'd ever thought of using the time machine to change the outcome of the world? To kill Hitler or prevent global warming? The future man said no one had ever really thought of that and that he might mention it at lunchtime if he gets a minute's break. He apologised for wasting my time and gave me his card should my collander ever break and I am without clean vegetables for more than a few days. And then, he was gone. Is that what the world had come to? Finally we invent a way to traverse the concept of time, and delve into the past or future with no end of possibilities and that is how its used? More importantly, I thought everyone had a collander? Is it not standard? So much to think about. I lay the kitchen roll down on the carpet, and put the television back on just in time see Phillip accidentally say the woman's song was 'hot stuff'. He's a legend.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Today's Outlook: Very Cloudy
I'll be honest. Its a bit too early for me to blog. I don't officially wake up for several hours which will make all the activities I'm meant to do this morning probably a tad shit. This is a shame as the entire reason I'm up this early is to do some fun stuff. Firstly I'm about to go and audition for the part of a cloud. Yes. A cloud. Its a comedy type cloud and I can't really tell you more than that, but I've also been told to be ready for the parts of rain and snow as well. I'm not really sure how any of these will work, but I assume I need to be a bit fluffier to be a cloud. If they need me to be more grey, by making me get up early I've already achieved this a tad. I also spent ages sitting in bed thinking of cloud type jokes. The only one I could come up with is this and its supremely poor:
How do clouds get from place to place? On the cumulus nim bus.
I should quit already really shouldn't I? We'll see. If I turn up and there are several other people that look like me I shall assume that when people look at the sky they think the clouds form my face. If however the other people in the waiting room are a dragon, a dog, a man with a hat chasing a shark and a baby, then the casting director will have really done his/her work.
After that I race to Bristol to pre-record Tom Craine's BBC Bristol radio show with him and then Old Rope for some new material that I haven't yet written. I might try just saying my cloud joke over and over again until people leave. Then when they start to get up and go I will just repeat the phrase 'ooh looks like rain'.
Sorry I had plans for today's blog to write about Persian food, arguing about sofas and The Thick Of It, but somewhere around the words 'supremely' and 'poor' I managed to really choke on my cup of tea. That then took ages to sort out and now I have to get ready and go to be a cloud. Today's forecast - more of the same is likely.
Last thing - the theme for today's radio show is technology. What piece could you/couldn't you live without? Any technology mishaps? If any of you can answer those questions, please leave them as comments below before about 2pm and we'll try to mention them in the show.
How do clouds get from place to place? On the cumulus nim bus.
I should quit already really shouldn't I? We'll see. If I turn up and there are several other people that look like me I shall assume that when people look at the sky they think the clouds form my face. If however the other people in the waiting room are a dragon, a dog, a man with a hat chasing a shark and a baby, then the casting director will have really done his/her work.
After that I race to Bristol to pre-record Tom Craine's BBC Bristol radio show with him and then Old Rope for some new material that I haven't yet written. I might try just saying my cloud joke over and over again until people leave. Then when they start to get up and go I will just repeat the phrase 'ooh looks like rain'.
Sorry I had plans for today's blog to write about Persian food, arguing about sofas and The Thick Of It, but somewhere around the words 'supremely' and 'poor' I managed to really choke on my cup of tea. That then took ages to sort out and now I have to get ready and go to be a cloud. Today's forecast - more of the same is likely.
Last thing - the theme for today's radio show is technology. What piece could you/couldn't you live without? Any technology mishaps? If any of you can answer those questions, please leave them as comments below before about 2pm and we'll try to mention them in the show.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Anti-Fir Brigade
Thats it. I feel festive. I tried to resist as long as possible but a number of events yesterday have firmly secured that I feel all a bit Christmassy. This is probably appropriate around now especially as today is officially St Nicholas Day, which is when said saint goes round leaving little presents in children's shoes around Poland, Sweden and Belgium. It sounds a bit like something I've blamed my cats for before. Turns out it was a holy man all along and if that is the case I can't really class them as presents. Seriously though, I can't work out why he'd choose to leave actual presents in shoes. I can think of nothing less appetizing than some chocolate coins that have been left to sit in my trainers overnight. Cheese was never a filling for a fondant. Not only that but by limiting presents to the size of the inside of a shoe, you are never going to get anything that good are you? You can't even fit a DVD in a shoe. This may of course be where the phrase, 'you know what they say about men with big shoes' comes from. The answer being 'they get bigger presents from St Nick'.
I didn't get any presents in shoes today. No my festiveness is largely down to me and Layla buying a tree yesterday while on a quick trip to look at shops in Stoke Newington we can't afford to shop at. We had a potter round hoping to buy some small gifts for people, but instead I bought myself a mug with monkeys on it, that I had absolutely no need to buy, and got nothing for anyone else. I can't help but feel I may have missed the point of present buying somehow, although at the same time, maybe I've just discovered the best way to do it. Just buy things for yourself and then if everyone did that we wouldn't have to stress about buying each other stuff. I swear I'm a genius. Then after successfully buying myself things, Layla decided we should get a tree. I was pleased with this, but we had previously talked about whether to get one or not, as two years ago our tree was destroyed by two tiny kittens with a tendancy to smash all the boubles and generally ruin Christmas. I can only assume they were tiny emissaries of the devil. Last year we didn't get a tree out of fear it would happen again, but we decided yesterday that our life and festive enjoyment can no longer be ruled by these furballs of hellishness and so we got a little tree. So far the cats have attacked it about 15 times. However the tree is still very much intact. We purposefully bought boubles that are spiky stars and that works as some sort of defence system against them. I'm tempted to treat our mini-fir as a version of the computer game 'Tower Defence' and slowly build up more and more dangerous boubles and decorations until the cats cannot get within 6 ft of it before being pinged in the eye with a nerf dart.
Comedy 4 Kids was much fun yesterday despite my entire lack of new material. A small girl who was declared the princess of Rochester, told me she wanted a dancing duck for Christmas. That is the best answer I have ever heard. Maybe that's also what I want for Christmas. I mean, who wouldn't? I bet all the shops have already sold out of them though, they are probably the must have gift.
Oh and the Thick of It is the best show on telly. FACT. Last night's episode was amazing.
I remembered this track yesterday and spent ages looking for it using the lyrics that I mistyped constantly, before finding it and going on a two hour google spiral finding several other tunes I used to like including Todd Terry vs Pulp Fiction of which it is only possible to find a two minute clip online. Why would anyone do that? Put the whole thing up, I will pay for it. Don't just give away a free two minute clip. That'd be like giving away a cinema ticket to watch half a film but never releasing the full thing. Or letting me only have a few chips before throwing the rest in the bin. That last one is unforgivable. Anyway here's the track I originally looked for. Warning, this is not really Sunday music anyway:
And here's the two minutes of the Pulp Fiction track. If you weren't in your teens in the mid-90s and into the speed garage scene I suggest you ignore this as you'll quite likely absolutely hate it. If you were, its still possible you regret your earlier taste in music and will also hate it. I however, think its awesome:
http://www.crugga-records.com/soundclips/220106/Todd%20Terry%20vs%20Pulp%20Fiction%20-%20Old%20skool%20-%20Listen/Todd%20Terry%20vs%20Pulp%20Fiction%20-%20Old%20skool%20-%20Listen.MP3
Last thing for today is this track:
This is quite possibly one of the oddest collaborations since the Texas/Wu-Tang single, egg and bacon ice cream or that time I did a gig in a golf club. I can't work out if I hate it or love it. Tom Waits shouldn't be in a hip hop track. Or should he? His voice should really be everywhere. I often think that if Tom Waits voice was played on street corners, kids may no longer go round commiting crime for fear that the Waits may talk to them in his growly wisdom. He should definitely do all tube train and airport announcements, all fire alarms and anything else that people may not otherwise pay enough attention to. So a hip hop track? Well, why not I guess. Lets hope he continues to collaborate with all sorts of genres we wouldn't normally associate him with until they are forced to do a Tom Waits night on X-Factor and all the contestants leave with nodes on their vocal chords unable to sing again.
I didn't get any presents in shoes today. No my festiveness is largely down to me and Layla buying a tree yesterday while on a quick trip to look at shops in Stoke Newington we can't afford to shop at. We had a potter round hoping to buy some small gifts for people, but instead I bought myself a mug with monkeys on it, that I had absolutely no need to buy, and got nothing for anyone else. I can't help but feel I may have missed the point of present buying somehow, although at the same time, maybe I've just discovered the best way to do it. Just buy things for yourself and then if everyone did that we wouldn't have to stress about buying each other stuff. I swear I'm a genius. Then after successfully buying myself things, Layla decided we should get a tree. I was pleased with this, but we had previously talked about whether to get one or not, as two years ago our tree was destroyed by two tiny kittens with a tendancy to smash all the boubles and generally ruin Christmas. I can only assume they were tiny emissaries of the devil. Last year we didn't get a tree out of fear it would happen again, but we decided yesterday that our life and festive enjoyment can no longer be ruled by these furballs of hellishness and so we got a little tree. So far the cats have attacked it about 15 times. However the tree is still very much intact. We purposefully bought boubles that are spiky stars and that works as some sort of defence system against them. I'm tempted to treat our mini-fir as a version of the computer game 'Tower Defence' and slowly build up more and more dangerous boubles and decorations until the cats cannot get within 6 ft of it before being pinged in the eye with a nerf dart.
Comedy 4 Kids was much fun yesterday despite my entire lack of new material. A small girl who was declared the princess of Rochester, told me she wanted a dancing duck for Christmas. That is the best answer I have ever heard. Maybe that's also what I want for Christmas. I mean, who wouldn't? I bet all the shops have already sold out of them though, they are probably the must have gift.
Oh and the Thick of It is the best show on telly. FACT. Last night's episode was amazing.
I remembered this track yesterday and spent ages looking for it using the lyrics that I mistyped constantly, before finding it and going on a two hour google spiral finding several other tunes I used to like including Todd Terry vs Pulp Fiction of which it is only possible to find a two minute clip online. Why would anyone do that? Put the whole thing up, I will pay for it. Don't just give away a free two minute clip. That'd be like giving away a cinema ticket to watch half a film but never releasing the full thing. Or letting me only have a few chips before throwing the rest in the bin. That last one is unforgivable. Anyway here's the track I originally looked for. Warning, this is not really Sunday music anyway:
And here's the two minutes of the Pulp Fiction track. If you weren't in your teens in the mid-90s and into the speed garage scene I suggest you ignore this as you'll quite likely absolutely hate it. If you were, its still possible you regret your earlier taste in music and will also hate it. I however, think its awesome:
http://www.crugga-records.com/soundclips/220106/Todd%20Terry%20vs%20Pulp%20Fiction%20-%20Old%20skool%20-%20Listen/Todd%20Terry%20vs%20Pulp%20Fiction%20-%20Old%20skool%20-%20Listen.MP3
Last thing for today is this track:
This is quite possibly one of the oddest collaborations since the Texas/Wu-Tang single, egg and bacon ice cream or that time I did a gig in a golf club. I can't work out if I hate it or love it. Tom Waits shouldn't be in a hip hop track. Or should he? His voice should really be everywhere. I often think that if Tom Waits voice was played on street corners, kids may no longer go round commiting crime for fear that the Waits may talk to them in his growly wisdom. He should definitely do all tube train and airport announcements, all fire alarms and anything else that people may not otherwise pay enough attention to. So a hip hop track? Well, why not I guess. Lets hope he continues to collaborate with all sorts of genres we wouldn't normally associate him with until they are forced to do a Tom Waits night on X-Factor and all the contestants leave with nodes on their vocal chords unable to sing again.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Kids Say The Funniest Things And Then I Steal Those Things
Gotta go teach kids stand-up again today, which once again will involve me being all a bit sleepy while I get asked if I 'eat poo' or ' wash my face in scrambled egg' or any other number of seemingly insane questions. I quite enjoy this bit as it just provides me with easy material for my normal gigs because those kids do say the funniest things. Ultimately I am being paid to steal material from the mouths of babes. That's babes in the original sense, as opposed to stealing material from really hot ladies. Again that's hot as in sexy, not just a bit sweaty. What I should do, were I a lovely and just human bean, is give all the kids 50p for giving me such interesting material to talk about, but I'm not, so they can sod off. Mwhahahahahahaha!
Its the last Comedy 4 Kids before Christmas today and worryingly I have no new material or any jokes about Christmas. I will have to wing it. I'm quite good at winging it at nighttime when I can use the swears instead of actual words, but at 1pm in the afternoon, after having been shouted at all morning, I can't help but worry I'll just use the swears instead of actual words. I've tried to write Christmas stuff but its pretty boring. The problem is, apart from telling them all Santa doesn't exist, I'm not really sure how to make it interesting and making a whole room of kids cry isnt the point of Comedy 4 Kids. Which is a shame as it would make the gig so much easier. I often wonder if I should set up a Trauma 4 Kids gig, which would just involve a slide show of horrible injuries and dead animals, followed by smashing the idea of the tooth fairy and telling them their parents have sex. I reckon it'll be a hit. Who's with me?
Nothing much else to report today as I must rush off to speak to rugrats, so instead here's some shameless promotion:
In Stoke Newington this weekend? Why not go to this? One of our Fat Tuesday regulars, Sanna, is exhibiting some of her work and it looks ace. I shall be going later today so should you:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=183829776705&index=1
Then on Dec 30th I'm now doing this which is hella exciting so you should all come to that too:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=219328136162&ref=ts
And on Jan 8th of course its this:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=236814601000&ref=mf
And there are still some tickets left for Fat Tuesday on Tuesday even though on of our special guests often mocks people's weeks:
http://www.wegottickets.com/event/59108
Tomorrow I will write more things and promote no things. Today's lesson children shall be about George Carlin's 7 Dirty Words.....
Its the last Comedy 4 Kids before Christmas today and worryingly I have no new material or any jokes about Christmas. I will have to wing it. I'm quite good at winging it at nighttime when I can use the swears instead of actual words, but at 1pm in the afternoon, after having been shouted at all morning, I can't help but worry I'll just use the swears instead of actual words. I've tried to write Christmas stuff but its pretty boring. The problem is, apart from telling them all Santa doesn't exist, I'm not really sure how to make it interesting and making a whole room of kids cry isnt the point of Comedy 4 Kids. Which is a shame as it would make the gig so much easier. I often wonder if I should set up a Trauma 4 Kids gig, which would just involve a slide show of horrible injuries and dead animals, followed by smashing the idea of the tooth fairy and telling them their parents have sex. I reckon it'll be a hit. Who's with me?
Nothing much else to report today as I must rush off to speak to rugrats, so instead here's some shameless promotion:
In Stoke Newington this weekend? Why not go to this? One of our Fat Tuesday regulars, Sanna, is exhibiting some of her work and it looks ace. I shall be going later today so should you:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=183829776705&index=1
Then on Dec 30th I'm now doing this which is hella exciting so you should all come to that too:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=219328136162&ref=ts
And on Jan 8th of course its this:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=236814601000&ref=mf
And there are still some tickets left for Fat Tuesday on Tuesday even though on of our special guests often mocks people's weeks:
http://www.wegottickets.com/event/59108
Tomorrow I will write more things and promote no things. Today's lesson children shall be about George Carlin's 7 Dirty Words.....
Friday, December 4, 2009
Friday Thoughts 2: The Return
My head doesn't hurt as such but it has more made itself very clear exactly how heavy it is, and exactly how tired I am due to last night's consumption of booze with Craine and Luurtsema. As penance for a lovely evening of wine, beer, whisky, nachos and some cakes that were better than expectation, my head has also decided to entirely forget whatever it was that Layla said to me as she left for work this morning and whatever else I need to do today. To be fair, I understand it needs a day off too. Sometimes I put it through all sorts of stress, such as checking emails while watching This Morning and listening out to see if the kettle's boiled, and after all that I expect it to come up with a hilarious facebook status or tweet, not giving it two minutes for a breather. So maybe its just fair that today is my brain's day off. My only worry is if it completely shuts down, then I'm not sure how I'll do anything else for the rest of the day, bar drool a bit and sit very still. I suppose this isn't too different from how I spend most days so I shouldn't be concerned. I might wear a bib just incase.
In an attempt for brain relief, here's some quick thoughts for todays blog:
- Tom taught me a new game last night called 'This Is Your Wife'. It involves having one newspaper, and the ability to sing 'This Is Your Wife' in the same way the music for This Is Your Life went. If you only have one of those two things, turn away now as the game will hindered somewhat. To play, one person must say a page number, while the other person turns to that page, points to the first picture on it and sings 'This Is Your Wife.' After both players have had their spouses confirmed, it then moves to 'This Is Your Child'. It doesn't rhyme as well, but the sentiment is the same. We did not get further than this but I assume that 'This Is Your Mum' is next. Sadly my wife is now Michael Buble. I don't think Layla will be too pleased about this, although he is rather wealthy so I feel I've done ok. Tom's wife is some old lady. She is worse looking than Buble, but she is a) a woman and b) probably going to die soon, so he's done ok.
- I like pubs with fire in. Last night's pub was covered in ivy and had a fire in it. The fire was meant to be there. I don't like pubs with fires in that aren't meant to be there. I avoid them. But ones with ivy and purposeful fires are good. I was tempted to call the fire brigade and scream 'there's a fire in the pub!' just so that they too could come round and appreciate it, though I imagine they might not. The pub, near where Tom lives, has been declared as our new favourite pub for these reasons. I also like it because when I asked for a bit of ice in my whisky, the bar woman said ' I say its your drink, you should have it how you like. Some proper whisky snobs say "oh no don't put ice in it, thats not the proper way to do it' but I say if you want ice, you have ice.' All at once she managed to belittle my whisky drinking ways and make me happy about them. Well done her.
- There is damp on one of our bedroom walls. It looks a bit like someone's got charcoal on their fingers and tried to paint one of those psychiatrists 'what do you see' pictures on it. Or perhaps as though Rorshach has smeared his face across it. I have just made a call for someone to fix it, but asked for 'a man to come and look at the damp patch in our bedroom'. I did not realise the innuendo in my phrasing until it was too late. There was a small awkward silence and then the woman on the phone just ignored it and carried on. I assume they have heard it many times before. Or she will just send round a pervert to sniff our sheets and I called the wrong number.
- Fat Tuesday hasn't yet sold out for next week and I'm honestly not sure why. If I could tell you who the special guests are it really would. But I can't. So I won't. Sorry. You can still get tickets here: http://www.wegottickets.com/event/59108
- This is, what I consider, some of the fastest rapping ever, topped with it being also a great beat. Shame Twista has now become shit:
- For those of you that don't like hip-hop (and let me just say I don't know who you are, but I will presume we will never really get on), have this for lovely Fridayness:
Now for my brain to switch off. *noise of mac doing shut down* Droooooooollllllll.....
In an attempt for brain relief, here's some quick thoughts for todays blog:
- Tom taught me a new game last night called 'This Is Your Wife'. It involves having one newspaper, and the ability to sing 'This Is Your Wife' in the same way the music for This Is Your Life went. If you only have one of those two things, turn away now as the game will hindered somewhat. To play, one person must say a page number, while the other person turns to that page, points to the first picture on it and sings 'This Is Your Wife.' After both players have had their spouses confirmed, it then moves to 'This Is Your Child'. It doesn't rhyme as well, but the sentiment is the same. We did not get further than this but I assume that 'This Is Your Mum' is next. Sadly my wife is now Michael Buble. I don't think Layla will be too pleased about this, although he is rather wealthy so I feel I've done ok. Tom's wife is some old lady. She is worse looking than Buble, but she is a) a woman and b) probably going to die soon, so he's done ok.
- I like pubs with fire in. Last night's pub was covered in ivy and had a fire in it. The fire was meant to be there. I don't like pubs with fires in that aren't meant to be there. I avoid them. But ones with ivy and purposeful fires are good. I was tempted to call the fire brigade and scream 'there's a fire in the pub!' just so that they too could come round and appreciate it, though I imagine they might not. The pub, near where Tom lives, has been declared as our new favourite pub for these reasons. I also like it because when I asked for a bit of ice in my whisky, the bar woman said ' I say its your drink, you should have it how you like. Some proper whisky snobs say "oh no don't put ice in it, thats not the proper way to do it' but I say if you want ice, you have ice.' All at once she managed to belittle my whisky drinking ways and make me happy about them. Well done her.
- There is damp on one of our bedroom walls. It looks a bit like someone's got charcoal on their fingers and tried to paint one of those psychiatrists 'what do you see' pictures on it. Or perhaps as though Rorshach has smeared his face across it. I have just made a call for someone to fix it, but asked for 'a man to come and look at the damp patch in our bedroom'. I did not realise the innuendo in my phrasing until it was too late. There was a small awkward silence and then the woman on the phone just ignored it and carried on. I assume they have heard it many times before. Or she will just send round a pervert to sniff our sheets and I called the wrong number.
- Fat Tuesday hasn't yet sold out for next week and I'm honestly not sure why. If I could tell you who the special guests are it really would. But I can't. So I won't. Sorry. You can still get tickets here: http://www.wegottickets.com/event/59108
- This is, what I consider, some of the fastest rapping ever, topped with it being also a great beat. Shame Twista has now become shit:
- For those of you that don't like hip-hop (and let me just say I don't know who you are, but I will presume we will never really get on), have this for lovely Fridayness:
Now for my brain to switch off. *noise of mac doing shut down* Droooooooollllllll.....
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