I'll be honest, if Zach De La Rocha, Tom Morello or any of the other two members of Rage who's names no one really knows asked me to jump, I would indeed say 'how high?' In fact, after watching them last night in Finsbury Park, I would happily jump most heights and places if they wanted me too like an annoying Rage groupie as they rocked the sheer hell out of the gig. If hell was based somewhere around Finsbury Park, and sometimes I think it possibly could be the way the loony evangelical church at the Rainbow Theatre go on about it, then it would have been rocked seriously far away by the events last night. I am still buzzing a bit from it all and have already spent this morning telling the people on the news, all my emails, various household objects and my parents cat, that I absolutely will not do what they tell me. So far they have all seemed fairly non-plussed about this and I can't help but feel maybe my voice doesn't have quite as much impact as that of Zach De La Rocha. It must be great to have his voice. He can probably tell a lot of people that he won't do what they tell him, or that they have a bullet in their muthafucking head or that this is a bombtrack and they will all respond accordingly. Whereas if I go round shouting that its all about the People Of The Sun, I will probably be accused of being mental, a fan of a terrible right wing newspaper, or worse, a mental fan of a terrible right wing newspaper.
Here are some of yesterday's low points:
- I somehow lost £50 at the gig. Or before the gig. Or somewhere in the journey between my brother's house and the gig. Fact is, its lost and therefore I don't know where it went. That's the definition of lost. When you lose something and someone says 'when did you last have it?' you don't usually know, because it is lost. That is what that word means. Idiots. Why did I have that much money on me? Well I really wanted a tshirt, and I knew beer would be expensive. Fairly sensible planning methinks. So instead I arrived at the gig, got through the hugely uncaring security staff that wouldn't have batted an eyelid if I had a bazooka in my trousers - not a euphemism, they were that lazy - and checked my pocket to find a complete lack of dosh. This then meant that my first 30 minutes of being at the Rage Factor involved standing in the longest queue for a cash machine ever, and unfortunately next to a hugely boring man who insisted on giving me stories about his rail journey there. There are a number of conversations I would have enjoyed standing there. Music based chat is always good, perhaps as we were at a Rage gig, some sort of political commentary on current events, or even just anything said by someone who was pretty. Sadly the pretty girl was standing two people in front of me and everytime she tried to get into our conversation, boring ugly dude would talk about trains or the logistics of banking machine queues. There aren't any banking machines queue logistics. That's how boring he was. I felt like he shouldn't have been allowed at the Rage gig. I bet he did everything everyone told them and then insisted on telling everyone all about what it was he did, despite them adamantly telling him to drop dead. Eventually I got to the machine only for it to tell me it wouldn't do what I told it and it rejected my card. I got properly angry at the machine. Three different cards and an angry queue of people behind me later, it gave in. I was now insanely furious, but at the same time realised that was a perfect state of mind for the gig. Well done boring twat, stupid machine and AWOL dosh.
- Rage didn't play Revolver. I really wanted them to play Revolver.
- After the gig the police cordoned off the whole of Finsbury Park station and its surrounding area and seemed to be guiding people in circles around it, without ever really helping them to get anywhere. I'm not sure what the point of this was, but it resulted in lots of non-local people being hugely stuck without means to get home, and some drunk twats who climbed on top of a passing bus. I assume the latter are now dead as the bus promptly turned a corner and headed off at reasonable speeds. I hope they aren't but instead have not been able to get down and have been stuck on the bus route for all of today as well. This police cordon also meant I couldn't get to the Silver Bullet bar where my brother and his friends were going and instead was dragged around the wave of people till I just ended up near home and decided to give in. I totally did what they told me to do. Rubbish.
And now the high points:
- For a free gig it was very well organised I thought and the crowd were really really good. After last year's Blur issues (THE POST-BLUR BLOG) I was very worried about how mental this crowd might be. All the signs were there: its a Rage gig, its was a hot day, there was booze. If scientists were to take those elements, put them in a test tube and mix it together it would probably explode in their face with some aggressive pushing and bottle throwing before taking a piss against a fence and kicking over a bin. Against all odds though, and there were some real odds there, everyone was really really lovely. A great vibe from a bunch of people that were getting to see one of their favourite bands for absolutely nada. Even after the gig, the wave of people being pushed around by the cops were very placid and I had a lovely chat with some nice people who I directed towards Manor House. Perhaps there was no anger left after jumping up and down that much?
- Donuts at gigs are the best thing ever.
- RATM dedicated War Within A Breath to the people in Gaza.
- I got my tshirt. I will now wear it everywhere with a smug pride.
- Despite there being 40,000 people and no phone reception, I found Martyne and Tommy just before RATM went onstage as they just happened to be standing in front of me. My brother then found some of his mates too. It felt like how people must have hung out in the olden days.
- Gogol Bordello were amazing and the lead singer's moustache was so good it should have its own band.
It was, overall, truly truly excellent. So ta to the Rage Factor people for sorting it all out and ta to Rage for still being as excellent as they ever have been. In fact, none of the band looked like they'd ever aged which was a tad creepy. Maybe jumping up and down and shouting swears and political statements is really good for you? I will start today and see what happens.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Calm Like A Bomb
I AM GOING TO SEE RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE TODAY! I wanted to save writing about it till tomorrow but I'm such a bundle of excitable energy right now that there is a small chance I may implode and create a small black hole. This would really upset my parents as they've only recently had some work done on the house. Knowing me, it wouldn't be a very big black hole at all though and it'd probably just get rid of a sofa arm rest before the rest just got stuck on the edges and my parents would be left with a half floating, oddly angled sofa that no one could do anything about. Thinking about it, its really bloody selfish when people implode into tiny black holes. So....RATM! Why am I excited? Well I've only wanted to see the angry men live since the early 90's, which I think makes me a proper fan of sorts. RATM has constantly been up there with my favourite music to get worked up too, along with DMX's first album, LL Cool J's 'Mama Said Knock You Out' and almost anything by Onyx. There are others, but those are the best to get all angry to. I like to think that were I ever about to engage in some sort of intergalactic battle on a deserted alien landscape, I'd do so with RATM playing really loudly as my backing music. You have to think about these sorts of things you see? Just incase they do happen. The rest of you unprepared souls would be sitting there with your space faces on, about to leap off your space type jet into alien war and the captain would say unless you have something you'd like to listen to, we'll play this bit of Coldplay, ok? And you'd panic and wouldn't have anything ready, then as that whiny twat starts going on about 'you've tried your best but you won't succeed', you'd get your face bitten off by a big slimy monster thing. Sorry. I am far too excited today.
Essentially tonight may go wrong. I mean, ultimately, I'm not the sort of person who should go to a RATM gig. I would die in a mosh pit, if I got showered by a bottle of someone else's lobbed piss I would cry and if I jump up and down too much I get a bit dizzy. I'm slightly worried there will be a fairground ride height chart as I walk in and they'll line me up against it and tell me I can't go in as it's too dangerous for someone this small. Everyone who's a proper Rage fan with angry type metal tshirts and a look as though they could punch the head off a cow in one go, would scowl at me as I held up the queue only for security to call my mum to come and collect me. Of course in my head, nothing like that will happen. What is more likely is that De La Rocha will invite me personally on stage where I will stage dive during 'People Of The Sun' and be carried all the way from Finsbury Park to Land's End where I'll be helicoptered back to the stage to do it all again. I will then complain as I will have missed most of RATM's set.
Sorry, I'm not sure what's happened to my imagination today. I think it is combination of anticipation for this eve and the overly muggy weather. It makes me a feel a bit delirious. I honestly don't know how people in much hotter countries aren't just bonkers all the time. At last night's gig the crowd were overly hot and it made them both hugely apathetic towards me and at the same time, a little bit mad. I like mad audiences, but not when they are so groggy they can only mumble their lunacy at you. Ultimately it meant I would just keep having to ask them to repeat whatever they said at which point they'd just go quiet, not respond and I would look unprepared. It didn't help that the stage was nearly as tall as me, which made me often feel like at any moment I could fall off and crush the people directly below, but also as though I was an oppressive shouty giant. Stage's should never be so high up that your comedy becomes more like delivering a sermon than gags. Saying that, I didn't have to deliver a sermon, but sometimes I feel you have to adapt to the gig.
I've got several hours till RATM will be on, so this afternoon will be spent playing their albums very loud and shouting at anything that moves. It should get me in the mood very well. I'm still not sure whether I should wear my most rock type clothes (ie jeans and a black t-shirt) or not (ie jeans and any other colour tshirt). Ultimately I suppose at least black tshirts don't look as bad when you get soaked with a flying bottle of someone else's piss. Let's go kill some aliens! Or something.
Essentially tonight may go wrong. I mean, ultimately, I'm not the sort of person who should go to a RATM gig. I would die in a mosh pit, if I got showered by a bottle of someone else's lobbed piss I would cry and if I jump up and down too much I get a bit dizzy. I'm slightly worried there will be a fairground ride height chart as I walk in and they'll line me up against it and tell me I can't go in as it's too dangerous for someone this small. Everyone who's a proper Rage fan with angry type metal tshirts and a look as though they could punch the head off a cow in one go, would scowl at me as I held up the queue only for security to call my mum to come and collect me. Of course in my head, nothing like that will happen. What is more likely is that De La Rocha will invite me personally on stage where I will stage dive during 'People Of The Sun' and be carried all the way from Finsbury Park to Land's End where I'll be helicoptered back to the stage to do it all again. I will then complain as I will have missed most of RATM's set.
Sorry, I'm not sure what's happened to my imagination today. I think it is combination of anticipation for this eve and the overly muggy weather. It makes me a feel a bit delirious. I honestly don't know how people in much hotter countries aren't just bonkers all the time. At last night's gig the crowd were overly hot and it made them both hugely apathetic towards me and at the same time, a little bit mad. I like mad audiences, but not when they are so groggy they can only mumble their lunacy at you. Ultimately it meant I would just keep having to ask them to repeat whatever they said at which point they'd just go quiet, not respond and I would look unprepared. It didn't help that the stage was nearly as tall as me, which made me often feel like at any moment I could fall off and crush the people directly below, but also as though I was an oppressive shouty giant. Stage's should never be so high up that your comedy becomes more like delivering a sermon than gags. Saying that, I didn't have to deliver a sermon, but sometimes I feel you have to adapt to the gig.
I've got several hours till RATM will be on, so this afternoon will be spent playing their albums very loud and shouting at anything that moves. It should get me in the mood very well. I'm still not sure whether I should wear my most rock type clothes (ie jeans and a black t-shirt) or not (ie jeans and any other colour tshirt). Ultimately I suppose at least black tshirts don't look as bad when you get soaked with a flying bottle of someone else's piss. Let's go kill some aliens! Or something.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
TiFi
Hello. How are you today? I thought I'd ask as I never do. I mean really this blog is always 'me, me, me' so I thought I'd start today's blog by seeing how you are. Of course you're too rude to respond, or I bet, if you do, it'll be by the time I've finished typing the blog and so it won't really matter. Essentially its a rather fruitless attempt to seem caring. I just don't want you to think I'm neglecting you all. Any objections if I do? No? Good. Let's move on. It's national drawing day today and I feel that after this blog I shall have to get drawing something. Blood or swords are off the list for health and safety reasons, so I guess I shall have to sketch again which is fine. I've got some comic strips I've been wanting to do for a while. What I realised when I did my ones before (which can all be seen at TIERNART) is that drawing takes ages and ages. I've no idea how the Beano used to come out on a weekly basis. Those artists must never have slept ever. My other worry is that today is also World Environment Day and I worry that by wasting paper on pictures of angry bears is a total waste of tree. You just can't win people. You just can't.
Welcome back to today's blog, some things! Hooray!
- Last night, when driving home from my gig in Bournemouth, I highly illegally checked my phone. Now, before you all have a go, this is the weird bit. My iPhone did its thing where it searches for wifi and the first one it brought up has the SID name of....'tiernan'. Bit weird huh? Like hugely a bit weird? Sure it may happen to you all the time if your name is Dave or BTHomeHub, but the fact is, no one is called Tiernan ever. No one ever. Not even me. Yet there, in Bournemouth, someone has named their wifi Tiernan and it happened to be in the exact spot where I drove through. I felt like I was in a hi-tech version of LA Story. I kept reconnecting to see if the next one would be 'Stop driving and turn around' or some sort of important message. It wasn't. It was BTHomeHub. Bloody parents need to be more original with naming their kids.
- The compere at my gig last night was less a compere and more someone with severe anger management issues. He was very nice offstage, but as soon as he went onstage he just screamed at people to 'Shut the fuck up' and aggressively threatened them with violence before bringing on a act who's name he would admit he 'didn't remember'. It was an interesting approach and while I don't necessarily applaud it, as he was a huge bald Scottish man, it seemed to work. People did shut up for fear of their lives. It felt like I was about to do a gig in a prison. He occasionally did a very nice joke but it was overshadowed by the fact that prior to that joke he would say something like 'you wanna shut the fuck up mate or I'll kick your head in'. He isn't a comic mind you and we all had to start somewhere. I just feel that starting like that will sooner land you in a cell than the Comedy Store. He also used the phrase before bringing on the headliner that 'the last act I introduced on stage died the next day. True story'. Except I was the last act he introduced onstage. I am spending most of today being terrified. Mind you, I made reference to him whilst on stage and he laughed along, then when some complete twat dressed as a convict for his stag-do told me I was too 'small to insult him' I pointed out that our compere wasn't though and on cue, he ran back in and shouted at the man. I would perhaps like a shouty man to do that at all my weekend gigs. At the end of the night he stopped shouting and wished his daughter, who was in the audience, a very happy birthday. Just goes to show. I'm not sure what it goes to show, but it's definitely something.
- My friend Emma took me to Bournemouth pier for the first time last night. I like the idea of piers. They are a bit like an unfinished bridge. Someone started it then realised covering the sea was just too much and so they gave up and stuck some arcades and ice creams on it. I wonder if the Severn Bridge started as a pier until they realised it was often too rainy for ice cream and so they'd better finish it. Bournemouth pier is probably lovely at day, but at night its a tad creepy. This is mostly due to the deserted fairground at the end of it, featuring one of those creepy carousels where all the horses look like they are laughing manically about the fact they are going to eat you. One day someone will figure out the reason kids scream when they go on carousels is because of the fear of falling off and being eaten by hell steeds and not because they are having fun. So instead of a lovely stroll myself and Emma spent the whole time worrying about the comment from the compere as it was now after midnight and maybe I was to be killed by night mares. See what I did there? Night mares? Boom. Sigh.
- MP Frank Field has been named today by Cameron as his 'poverty tsar' who will report back to the coalition government how on earth these bloody poor people get so trapped in poverty and that. Poverty Tsar sounds like he is the king of the tramps and should be made to wear a paperbag crown and have an office by the bins where he dances with his pet rats. I honestly think Cameron has never seen a poor person up close in his life, as they are usually removed far from his estate before he can get close. I can only imagine Field's report is to be split into sections saying things like 'Are they funny sitcom poor or disgusting poor?' I hope Field's report comes back with the answer to why people are 'being trapped in poverty' as: the previous Tory government, then the Labour government and now the current government, all of whom have far more interest in keeping the rich even richer than ever letting society get back on its feet. It won't say that though. It will just show photos of him in Hackney singing songs from Oliver to entertain the PM.
- I am in Gloucester tonight. Make of that what you will.
Welcome back to today's blog, some things! Hooray!
- Last night, when driving home from my gig in Bournemouth, I highly illegally checked my phone. Now, before you all have a go, this is the weird bit. My iPhone did its thing where it searches for wifi and the first one it brought up has the SID name of....'tiernan'. Bit weird huh? Like hugely a bit weird? Sure it may happen to you all the time if your name is Dave or BTHomeHub, but the fact is, no one is called Tiernan ever. No one ever. Not even me. Yet there, in Bournemouth, someone has named their wifi Tiernan and it happened to be in the exact spot where I drove through. I felt like I was in a hi-tech version of LA Story. I kept reconnecting to see if the next one would be 'Stop driving and turn around' or some sort of important message. It wasn't. It was BTHomeHub. Bloody parents need to be more original with naming their kids.
- The compere at my gig last night was less a compere and more someone with severe anger management issues. He was very nice offstage, but as soon as he went onstage he just screamed at people to 'Shut the fuck up' and aggressively threatened them with violence before bringing on a act who's name he would admit he 'didn't remember'. It was an interesting approach and while I don't necessarily applaud it, as he was a huge bald Scottish man, it seemed to work. People did shut up for fear of their lives. It felt like I was about to do a gig in a prison. He occasionally did a very nice joke but it was overshadowed by the fact that prior to that joke he would say something like 'you wanna shut the fuck up mate or I'll kick your head in'. He isn't a comic mind you and we all had to start somewhere. I just feel that starting like that will sooner land you in a cell than the Comedy Store. He also used the phrase before bringing on the headliner that 'the last act I introduced on stage died the next day. True story'. Except I was the last act he introduced onstage. I am spending most of today being terrified. Mind you, I made reference to him whilst on stage and he laughed along, then when some complete twat dressed as a convict for his stag-do told me I was too 'small to insult him' I pointed out that our compere wasn't though and on cue, he ran back in and shouted at the man. I would perhaps like a shouty man to do that at all my weekend gigs. At the end of the night he stopped shouting and wished his daughter, who was in the audience, a very happy birthday. Just goes to show. I'm not sure what it goes to show, but it's definitely something.
- My friend Emma took me to Bournemouth pier for the first time last night. I like the idea of piers. They are a bit like an unfinished bridge. Someone started it then realised covering the sea was just too much and so they gave up and stuck some arcades and ice creams on it. I wonder if the Severn Bridge started as a pier until they realised it was often too rainy for ice cream and so they'd better finish it. Bournemouth pier is probably lovely at day, but at night its a tad creepy. This is mostly due to the deserted fairground at the end of it, featuring one of those creepy carousels where all the horses look like they are laughing manically about the fact they are going to eat you. One day someone will figure out the reason kids scream when they go on carousels is because of the fear of falling off and being eaten by hell steeds and not because they are having fun. So instead of a lovely stroll myself and Emma spent the whole time worrying about the comment from the compere as it was now after midnight and maybe I was to be killed by night mares. See what I did there? Night mares? Boom. Sigh.
- MP Frank Field has been named today by Cameron as his 'poverty tsar' who will report back to the coalition government how on earth these bloody poor people get so trapped in poverty and that. Poverty Tsar sounds like he is the king of the tramps and should be made to wear a paperbag crown and have an office by the bins where he dances with his pet rats. I honestly think Cameron has never seen a poor person up close in his life, as they are usually removed far from his estate before he can get close. I can only imagine Field's report is to be split into sections saying things like 'Are they funny sitcom poor or disgusting poor?' I hope Field's report comes back with the answer to why people are 'being trapped in poverty' as: the previous Tory government, then the Labour government and now the current government, all of whom have far more interest in keeping the rich even richer than ever letting society get back on its feet. It won't say that though. It will just show photos of him in Hackney singing songs from Oliver to entertain the PM.
- I am in Gloucester tonight. Make of that what you will.
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Henry's Cat Blog
I keep having both too many things to blog about this week and at the same time, I don't really have a lot to say about any of them. So much in keeping with things today shall be mostly about many things but also not much about nothing. It will be the Henry's Cat of blogs. Except that he knew everything about nothing but not too much about that, whereas this blog, being a non-sentient being, knows even less about nothing than a fictional yellow cat. Somewhere along the way of typing that I've confused myself. Anyway, there will be some controversy in today's blog and also some stuff you probably won't remotely react to as its just inane. Strap in. It won't be bumpy, but safety first and all that, and just because you are an adult doesn't mean I'm not responsible for your welfare. Put the seatbelt on. No, not just over your shoulder. No you can't smoke out of the window. A wee stop? Already? Jesus, just get out of the car. You're walking.
- NAKED SPOTS
Everyone, whereever they live, knows the specific places in their household where you can get away with walking around naked. Don't lie. You clearly all do. In my old flat, everywhere was safe except the short gap between the bedroom door and the far side of the bedroom, due to it facing the street, and therefore post shower would require a flurry of speed akin to the Flash, in more ways than one. Don't get me wrong, I am not one of these people who wants to parade around his manor with nothing but a pair of boots and a shotgun, but its sheer knowledge of such things that helps you avoid awkward situations. Like this morning. In my parents house I keep forgetting that their bathroom window is not frosted. Nor is the blind always down. So, as a consequence I think I nearly made someone fall off the roof opposite in abject shock as I was about to get down to wash time. Similarly, I'm fairly sure our next door neighbour has now seen far too much of my arse as she did her gardening and I hadn't worked out the window viewpoint angles while getting dressed. Oddly she appears to be in her garden even more since that day and around the same vantage point. I am slightly worried by this. Yet flattered. All these places in houses need to have a little sign or security notice just so that won't happen. Or I suppose I could just stop wandering round in my birthday suit unnecessarily. Or buy a shotgun and boots and embrace it.
- CONTROVERSY
Now, before I even begin to type this, I do not by any means think what Derrick Bird did in Cumbria was in any way right. No, killing 12 people on a gun rampage was pretty bloody wrong. However, and I take a deep breath as I write this, when Jack Bauer did a similar thing in the last few episodes of 24, everyone thought it was awesome. Yeah Jack was fighting for justice and revenge and against a corrupt government, but Bird was apparently angry at being screwed over by the tax system and had been treated badly by his old employer. It wasn't right, but if they don't make a TV movie of it starring Keifer Sutherland they are missing a trick. That's all I'm saying. I'm also saying that I know a lot of people that would like to kill until the tax system sorts itself out. I also found it funny how everyone said that 'he was such a nice man' following all the cliches. I feel that if he had been a horrible gun toting bastard all his life, he probably would have been caught before it had all happened. Here follows several comments of hate. Fire away people. Sorry, poor choice of words.
- BLACK EYED PEAS
My favourite ever music review appeared in the Guardian last Saturday. Its the one about the Black Eyed Peas here:
ALEX MILLER - THE WEEK'S NEW SINGLES
I fully agree. Will.I.Am is the worst person in history. Yesterday a homeless man tried to sell me a Big Issue. I was totally going to get one, till I saw the Black Eyed Peas were on the front. He managed to persuade me so I just gave him the money and swiftly binned the mag. Why do I hate them?
Well for a start they used to make decent tracks like this:
BLACK EYED PEAS - JOINTS AND JAMS
See? That's not that bad is it? Then they got that vacuous carcass of skin Fergie on board and suddenly all their music became the same track with slightly different words, terrible samples and Prick.He.Is using a vocoder at every opportunity. Why sound like that all the time? There is a reason Stephen Hawking isn't a pop star! Ok. There are several reasons he isn't a popstar, including the fact that he's an incredible scientist, but that's not the point. I also hate Will.I.Am because he's now supposedly going out with Cheryl Cole, and its been made very clear that now I'm single, I'm meant to be going out with Cheryl Cole. Will, you best get ready as I will fight for that love. Or not.
- CYBERNETIC DIABETIC
I won't write about this too much today as there will be time for more on this matter in a few weeks, but yesterday I got approved to get a diabetic insulin pump. It means I never have to inject again and it acts like a tiny bionic pancreas. Its hella in the future and has a blood test kit that blue tooth's the results to the machine so it can give me the appropriate insulin. I'm very excited, though it will probably completely change my life. However I am prepared for that as long as I can become Robobetic and be like the Six Million Dollar man if his only weakness was very sugary drinks.
- NAKED SPOTS
Everyone, whereever they live, knows the specific places in their household where you can get away with walking around naked. Don't lie. You clearly all do. In my old flat, everywhere was safe except the short gap between the bedroom door and the far side of the bedroom, due to it facing the street, and therefore post shower would require a flurry of speed akin to the Flash, in more ways than one. Don't get me wrong, I am not one of these people who wants to parade around his manor with nothing but a pair of boots and a shotgun, but its sheer knowledge of such things that helps you avoid awkward situations. Like this morning. In my parents house I keep forgetting that their bathroom window is not frosted. Nor is the blind always down. So, as a consequence I think I nearly made someone fall off the roof opposite in abject shock as I was about to get down to wash time. Similarly, I'm fairly sure our next door neighbour has now seen far too much of my arse as she did her gardening and I hadn't worked out the window viewpoint angles while getting dressed. Oddly she appears to be in her garden even more since that day and around the same vantage point. I am slightly worried by this. Yet flattered. All these places in houses need to have a little sign or security notice just so that won't happen. Or I suppose I could just stop wandering round in my birthday suit unnecessarily. Or buy a shotgun and boots and embrace it.
- CONTROVERSY
Now, before I even begin to type this, I do not by any means think what Derrick Bird did in Cumbria was in any way right. No, killing 12 people on a gun rampage was pretty bloody wrong. However, and I take a deep breath as I write this, when Jack Bauer did a similar thing in the last few episodes of 24, everyone thought it was awesome. Yeah Jack was fighting for justice and revenge and against a corrupt government, but Bird was apparently angry at being screwed over by the tax system and had been treated badly by his old employer. It wasn't right, but if they don't make a TV movie of it starring Keifer Sutherland they are missing a trick. That's all I'm saying. I'm also saying that I know a lot of people that would like to kill until the tax system sorts itself out. I also found it funny how everyone said that 'he was such a nice man' following all the cliches. I feel that if he had been a horrible gun toting bastard all his life, he probably would have been caught before it had all happened. Here follows several comments of hate. Fire away people. Sorry, poor choice of words.
- BLACK EYED PEAS
My favourite ever music review appeared in the Guardian last Saturday. Its the one about the Black Eyed Peas here:
ALEX MILLER - THE WEEK'S NEW SINGLES
I fully agree. Will.I.Am is the worst person in history. Yesterday a homeless man tried to sell me a Big Issue. I was totally going to get one, till I saw the Black Eyed Peas were on the front. He managed to persuade me so I just gave him the money and swiftly binned the mag. Why do I hate them?
Well for a start they used to make decent tracks like this:
BLACK EYED PEAS - JOINTS AND JAMS
See? That's not that bad is it? Then they got that vacuous carcass of skin Fergie on board and suddenly all their music became the same track with slightly different words, terrible samples and Prick.He.Is using a vocoder at every opportunity. Why sound like that all the time? There is a reason Stephen Hawking isn't a pop star! Ok. There are several reasons he isn't a popstar, including the fact that he's an incredible scientist, but that's not the point. I also hate Will.I.Am because he's now supposedly going out with Cheryl Cole, and its been made very clear that now I'm single, I'm meant to be going out with Cheryl Cole. Will, you best get ready as I will fight for that love. Or not.
- CYBERNETIC DIABETIC
I won't write about this too much today as there will be time for more on this matter in a few weeks, but yesterday I got approved to get a diabetic insulin pump. It means I never have to inject again and it acts like a tiny bionic pancreas. Its hella in the future and has a blood test kit that blue tooth's the results to the machine so it can give me the appropriate insulin. I'm very excited, though it will probably completely change my life. However I am prepared for that as long as I can become Robobetic and be like the Six Million Dollar man if his only weakness was very sugary drinks.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Hooded Man
Some things:
- Since I last blogged about running, I've been running at least 2-3 times a week. I like to think I've got better at it. For a start, I now actually run a bit, rather than just jog, walk, crawl, sit, cry, walk again, jog a bit, give up, stay where I am till someone picks me up. But also I was running around the whole of Finsbury Park in about 25-26 minutes and today I did it in 19. Surely that means I can win the Olympics and stuff, no? Well, clearly no. Because it doesn't matter how often I go running or how fast or slow I go, I always get lapped by the hooded man. Yes, it appears I have gained a nemesis for the first time ever in a man who manages to overtake me and lap me at least twice during my run, whilst simultaneously wearing a very warm looking hoodie. This is so scarring to witness. Not only does he take my optimum level of health and kick it so hard in its face that it crawls over to its friend safety for comfort, but also he is wearing a lot more clothes which means it must be even tougher. I mean, it was hot today. It was like combining a run with a sauna, except the only fat sweaty man in there was me, and luckily I was wearing more than a towel, or I probably wouldn't be allowed in the park again. In just my shorts and t-shirt though, I was boiling. The sort of hot I don't really like. Struggling away, sweat pouring off my face as I try and maintain any sort of motion while doing the uphill bits, and just as I gain the willpower to push on, just as I change the track on my iPod to something really kick arse, hooded man appears. He reminds me of the ghost racers in Mario Kart that would always be just ahead of you and win when doing the time trials. Its like he resets when I start running and just goes automatically. And he doesn't appear to even sweat. I hate him. I will destroy him. If I can't ever get healthy enough to lap him, then I will just hide in a tree till he runs underneath and ambush him. Let there be a moral to this story: if you are unnecessarily healthy, then please avoid me. Its not one of the best morals, but its better that than you get jumped on by a tiny diabetic.
- Last night me and Shappi Khorsandi got totally caught out at a curry restaurant by an annoyingly sharp waiter. After the gig we had called an Indian restaurant I knew was on the way back to see if they'd be open. Shappi had tried to get them to stay open but they said they would close at 11.30. Instead of taking this as a no, we decided we would just turn up, pretend we didn't know any different and try and get some food. So I drove like a professional curry needer and we raced up to the door for 11.27am. Slick as. I asked Shappi to go in while I parked the car. She returned again about 2 minutes later. They had told her they were closed. Fair enough. But as she went to leave the waiter said 'didn't you call earlier and we told you then we were closed?' Shappi, in her expert performance manner responded with a very sheepish 'er...noooo.' They totally sussed her. Word of advice, if you want to try and trick a restaurant after they've already turned you down, don't send in the same person who made the phone call in the first place. I have a feeling if me and Shappi hosted the Real Hustle we'd get caught everytime.
- Yesterday afternoon I spent two hours in a yoga studio pretending to be a superhero, or a superhero's boss with Hils Barker. I love my job. Had I told my 6 year old self many moons ago that I would have a living where I got to do the same stuff I enjoyed doing in the playground, only with the awesome batman cloak made from an old black dress and the batmobile / shopping trolley my friend 'Robin' kept falling out and getting seriously injured, he'd have been so impressed. Had I told the 14 year old me that, he'd have said 'wow, I grow up to be a proper loser, why don't I just die now?' 14 year old me was a dick.
- Yesterday's comedy gig at the Aylesbury Civic Centre was the last comedy gig they will ever have there. No, it didn't go that badly. In fact, it was a lovely lovely show, run by lovely people in a lovely place. Instead its because the whole venue is being turned into a shopping centre, while a private company are opening a swanky new theatre across the road. Sounds nice you might think? Well, not if you take into consideration that the Civic Centre is a wonderful venue used by the community, whilst the theatre will cost thousands to hire, suddenly meaning all those community groups will lose out. If you look at all the staff that are being made redundant because the theatre has its own private staff and isn't interested in helping out the local area. Essentially its another example of privatization destroying local values. Expect more of this over the next five years. Sad times.
- Since I last blogged about running, I've been running at least 2-3 times a week. I like to think I've got better at it. For a start, I now actually run a bit, rather than just jog, walk, crawl, sit, cry, walk again, jog a bit, give up, stay where I am till someone picks me up. But also I was running around the whole of Finsbury Park in about 25-26 minutes and today I did it in 19. Surely that means I can win the Olympics and stuff, no? Well, clearly no. Because it doesn't matter how often I go running or how fast or slow I go, I always get lapped by the hooded man. Yes, it appears I have gained a nemesis for the first time ever in a man who manages to overtake me and lap me at least twice during my run, whilst simultaneously wearing a very warm looking hoodie. This is so scarring to witness. Not only does he take my optimum level of health and kick it so hard in its face that it crawls over to its friend safety for comfort, but also he is wearing a lot more clothes which means it must be even tougher. I mean, it was hot today. It was like combining a run with a sauna, except the only fat sweaty man in there was me, and luckily I was wearing more than a towel, or I probably wouldn't be allowed in the park again. In just my shorts and t-shirt though, I was boiling. The sort of hot I don't really like. Struggling away, sweat pouring off my face as I try and maintain any sort of motion while doing the uphill bits, and just as I gain the willpower to push on, just as I change the track on my iPod to something really kick arse, hooded man appears. He reminds me of the ghost racers in Mario Kart that would always be just ahead of you and win when doing the time trials. Its like he resets when I start running and just goes automatically. And he doesn't appear to even sweat. I hate him. I will destroy him. If I can't ever get healthy enough to lap him, then I will just hide in a tree till he runs underneath and ambush him. Let there be a moral to this story: if you are unnecessarily healthy, then please avoid me. Its not one of the best morals, but its better that than you get jumped on by a tiny diabetic.
- Last night me and Shappi Khorsandi got totally caught out at a curry restaurant by an annoyingly sharp waiter. After the gig we had called an Indian restaurant I knew was on the way back to see if they'd be open. Shappi had tried to get them to stay open but they said they would close at 11.30. Instead of taking this as a no, we decided we would just turn up, pretend we didn't know any different and try and get some food. So I drove like a professional curry needer and we raced up to the door for 11.27am. Slick as. I asked Shappi to go in while I parked the car. She returned again about 2 minutes later. They had told her they were closed. Fair enough. But as she went to leave the waiter said 'didn't you call earlier and we told you then we were closed?' Shappi, in her expert performance manner responded with a very sheepish 'er...noooo.' They totally sussed her. Word of advice, if you want to try and trick a restaurant after they've already turned you down, don't send in the same person who made the phone call in the first place. I have a feeling if me and Shappi hosted the Real Hustle we'd get caught everytime.
- Yesterday afternoon I spent two hours in a yoga studio pretending to be a superhero, or a superhero's boss with Hils Barker. I love my job. Had I told my 6 year old self many moons ago that I would have a living where I got to do the same stuff I enjoyed doing in the playground, only with the awesome batman cloak made from an old black dress and the batmobile / shopping trolley my friend 'Robin' kept falling out and getting seriously injured, he'd have been so impressed. Had I told the 14 year old me that, he'd have said 'wow, I grow up to be a proper loser, why don't I just die now?' 14 year old me was a dick.
- Yesterday's comedy gig at the Aylesbury Civic Centre was the last comedy gig they will ever have there. No, it didn't go that badly. In fact, it was a lovely lovely show, run by lovely people in a lovely place. Instead its because the whole venue is being turned into a shopping centre, while a private company are opening a swanky new theatre across the road. Sounds nice you might think? Well, not if you take into consideration that the Civic Centre is a wonderful venue used by the community, whilst the theatre will cost thousands to hire, suddenly meaning all those community groups will lose out. If you look at all the staff that are being made redundant because the theatre has its own private staff and isn't interested in helping out the local area. Essentially its another example of privatization destroying local values. Expect more of this over the next five years. Sad times.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
15 Minutes...
I have 15 minutes to write this blog. I like to think of it as the blog equivalent of Speed. Except its a blog, not a bus. And I don't have to type at 50 mph or my fingers would fall off and my keyboard would collapse. And Dennis Hopper isn't in it. Mostly 'cos he's dead. Also because even if he wasn't, he probably wouldn't appear in my blog unless I paid him loads. Keanu Reeves also isn't in it. He's not dead, even though all his acting says otherwise. Sandra Bullock's not in it either. I wouldn't have her in my blog even if she paid me loads. So essentially, this blog is nothing like Speed. Was there a film called 15 Minutes? If so, its like that. Unless that film isn't at all about blogging.
As I woke up this morning with a hangover I saw on the news that booze prices are going up to stop people like me drinking like I drank last night. The National Institute of Clinical and Health Excellence, or NICE (which is the worst name for such a company. You shouldn't sound like a catchphrase from Human Traffic if that's what you're trying to prevent), say that one in four adults is drinking too much and the other three are probably trying but are just lightweights. So instead of banning booze or putting a limit on how much booze people can drink, they are just raising the prices. This means people will continue to drink as much but more money will go to the drinks companies and the government in booze tax. Well done NICE, you bunch of idiots. What would be better would be lowering the price of booze loads so that people can save more money and maybe buy DVDs and stay in, or go the cinema or just eat properly so that they don't just drown their credit crunch sorrows in further booze. I swear sometimes I should run things.
Hmm, 8 minutes left. What else to cover today? Well...Fat Tuesday was bloody good. Go see Stephen Carlin and Seann Walsh's shows in Edinburgh this year for they shall be ace. And.....5 minutes....argh.....shit. That's it. Time's up. I apologise for lack of content. Oh wait, lack of content? It is like Speed. Phew.
As I woke up this morning with a hangover I saw on the news that booze prices are going up to stop people like me drinking like I drank last night. The National Institute of Clinical and Health Excellence, or NICE (which is the worst name for such a company. You shouldn't sound like a catchphrase from Human Traffic if that's what you're trying to prevent), say that one in four adults is drinking too much and the other three are probably trying but are just lightweights. So instead of banning booze or putting a limit on how much booze people can drink, they are just raising the prices. This means people will continue to drink as much but more money will go to the drinks companies and the government in booze tax. Well done NICE, you bunch of idiots. What would be better would be lowering the price of booze loads so that people can save more money and maybe buy DVDs and stay in, or go the cinema or just eat properly so that they don't just drown their credit crunch sorrows in further booze. I swear sometimes I should run things.
Hmm, 8 minutes left. What else to cover today? Well...Fat Tuesday was bloody good. Go see Stephen Carlin and Seann Walsh's shows in Edinburgh this year for they shall be ace. And.....5 minutes....argh.....shit. That's it. Time's up. I apologise for lack of content. Oh wait, lack of content? It is like Speed. Phew.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Flotilla
Last night at the ever lovely Old Rope, I tried to talk a little bit about what Israeli forces bombarding the flotilla yesterday. It was possibly the fact it was too soon, the fact that my jokes were shit and there is little that is funny about it, or that the audience hadn't heard about it, but either way, it didn't work. I tried to appease things by making a joke that a flotilla is a fleet of ships and not a bathtime version of a popular Mexican dish. So, I wanted to write a lot about it today, but I'm not going to. Not because I'm chickening away from it, but partly because I'm meant to leave the house in 20 mins to meet someone and still haven't had a shower, and partly also because it can be explained a lot more succinctly by cleverer people. For example, Alexi Sayle:
SAYLE LAMBASTS ISRAEL AFTER AID SHIP DEATHS
Various different reports are giving various different numbers as to how many civilians have died, but the numbers don't really matter. More importantly, whether it was 10 or 25, innocent people died trying to bring aid to other innocent people and Israel haven't allowed that to happen. Any excuses the Israeli government have been giving just aren't really good enough. This, coming only a week after refusing to take part in a meeting about nuclear disarmament to bring peace to the Middle East, (them being the only ones with proper nuclear warheads as well) and it appears Israel are doing whatever they like, despite international laws. They can't and shouldn't be allowed to get away with this again.
Flotilla!
Right, that's my mini-rant for today, though unless something is sorted out soon, I will try and write a bit more about it, and my views on the whole thing. Though Sayle does sum it all up very well.
On a very different note, the Fat Tuesday Edinburgh Preview season starts tonight with Seann Walsh and Stephen Carlin. There are still tickets left so book 'em here:
http://www.wegottickets.com/event/78335
Flotilla!
SAYLE LAMBASTS ISRAEL AFTER AID SHIP DEATHS
Various different reports are giving various different numbers as to how many civilians have died, but the numbers don't really matter. More importantly, whether it was 10 or 25, innocent people died trying to bring aid to other innocent people and Israel haven't allowed that to happen. Any excuses the Israeli government have been giving just aren't really good enough. This, coming only a week after refusing to take part in a meeting about nuclear disarmament to bring peace to the Middle East, (them being the only ones with proper nuclear warheads as well) and it appears Israel are doing whatever they like, despite international laws. They can't and shouldn't be allowed to get away with this again.
Flotilla!
Right, that's my mini-rant for today, though unless something is sorted out soon, I will try and write a bit more about it, and my views on the whole thing. Though Sayle does sum it all up very well.
On a very different note, the Fat Tuesday Edinburgh Preview season starts tonight with Seann Walsh and Stephen Carlin. There are still tickets left so book 'em here:
http://www.wegottickets.com/event/78335
Flotilla!
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