I'm going to keep this brief, like a pair of pants. I like that phrase, especially as I made it up. However, it doesn't actually make sense. Pants are also known as briefs, not brief, so really it would be better if you said 'keep this brief, like a case.' Except cases are funny. Well headcases can be. Anyway, pants are funnier regardless so let's just roll with that. I am writing today. I know that seems obvious because how on Earth would this blog appear if I didn't write it? Its not as though I can just cough and it happens. I don't throw a plate at the wall and the shattered pieces form words that transcend the internet and into blog form. No. Though I really wish I could both of those things. The coughing may be awkward when I have a cold and I start blogging 5-10 times a day minimum. And the plate thing would be a problem when I have nothing to left to eat on and have to pop to Ikea everytime I want to blog. Ahem, sorry. What I'm saying is that I need to write my Edinburgh show for Brighton tomorrow. Edinburgh in Brighton you say? Well yes, and no. I've got my solo shows tomorrow and Friday and it needs a damn good bit of work before anyone sees it. It will be bloody good though and I will include my thoughts on the election tomorrow incase any of you were worried I wouldn't address the situation at all. I doubt you were. I mean, I can't imagine any of you would be trembling with fear of the possibility I won't at least mention its happening, but I thought I'd reassure you just incase. If you were really that concerned then I think you have issues and should probably sort your life out.
Here's the link to the FB event for the Brighton shows, which in turn, has links to the tickets for the show on it:
MY SHOWS AT THE BRIGHTON FRINGE TOMORROW AND FRIDAY
But that's all for blogging today as I've promised myself I will commit to mostly show writing all day. I would like to just say that last night's Fat Tuesday was truly excellent and a big thank you not only to the acts who were ace, but also to Dr Stynenyov (if that's how you spell it. It probably isn't) who happened to be a scientist working on robot surgery. That, as far as I'm concerned, was the best job you could have had when sitting in an audience at a comedy gig. Bloody well done.
No semi-political ranting today. Just don't forget to vote and that tomorrow, and maybe re-read yesterday's blog if you're considering voting Tory. Or, rather, just don't read any of my blogs again. SLAM!
Proper blog tomorrow, unless (and very likely) I still haven't written enough by then too.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Misery Fuel
I genuinely thought I'd already blogged today but it appears I definitely haven't. Its slightly worrying that I thought that, and is a further step in me wondering if my brain is steadily giving up. Last night at Old Rope, at the end of the gig, I forgot who had been on, and forgot acts names. Then I said hello to someone who I'm fairly sure I don't know, and they will now surely write on my Chortle wall that I'm clearly a loon. So now I couldn't remember if I'd blogged already today or not and if I wet myself this afternoon I'm going to seek professional care. Of course if my brain really was really giving up, I probably wouldn't know it was giving up and thus the catch 22 of the situation renders me probably safe. Unless its decided to stop in a truly cruel way whereby it wants me to notice my furthering mental issues, which is possible. I've put it through rather a lot in the last 29 years of my life. I can only assume that it, much like every thing else in the world, would like a break now. Not that its been used for good thinking. No. I bet Einstein's brain would never want a day off as it was doing groundbreaking stuff. Mine however, has been put through rigorous amounts of thought that will never amount to anything or ever really help life in anyway. For example today started with Star Wars puns, because it is Star Wars Day (May The Fourth Be With You), and then went into 10 mins of pondering just how long I could grow my toenails until I could sharpen them like weapons and kick people to death like a foot soldier. Not the nicest of thoughts, admittedly, but I concluded it would take at least 5 to 6 years before they were really of katana blade standard, and by that point I would have ruined a lot of socks and shoes and killed several low ground mammals. That's not really the sort of thought I think my brain wants to be having, and that's why it had told me I'd already blogged today, in order to make sure I don't repeat the toe-tal carnage explanation all over again. That's what I'd call myself for a superhero name. Toe-tal Carnage. I'd have catchphrases like 'Let's get to the foot of this crime!' I'll stop now before my cerebral cortex explodes itself.
I am mostly writing my Edinburgh show today. I say 'mostly' but so far I went for a run, which was good in that I really really didn't want to, but I did anyway, but bad in that everything hurts, my face won't stop being red and I'm sure the more I wear shorts the more people of Finsbury Park will rally to keep me in my home till I cover up. After the run its been emails, eating, watching vids on youtube, checking BBC news to see which MP has fucked what stuff up today and procrastinating to the highest accord. Thing is, I have my solo shows at the Brighton Fringe this Thursday and Friday. I've got some of my show, but also it is going to be election night and I have a feeling that I may want to spend some of my show talking about it all. So do I spend the day writing my Edinburgh show or writing more about current affairs? If I write topical/political stuff, chances are it won't be very topical or political, but also, it'll be useless in a few months time and not usable for Edinburgh. There is part of me, that while for the sake of the country I pray it really really doesn't happen, that hopes the Tories get in just so joke writing will be easier for a while. I mean, the US had Bush for years which meant all the comedians didn't really have to write much for ages. Then they got Obama and now they actually have to remember how to do jokes again. In the UK the 80s comedians had a field day with Thatcher and we've trudged through the 90s and 00's with a decent bit on terrorism and illegal wars, but now its all sort of simmered down. Cameron will run this country into the ground so well that there will be minefields of humour for us to take from it. I'll be able to spend most of the day in bed then at night spout about his increasingly poor decisions, the high rate of unemployment, the privatising of public resources and the rich/poor divide getting ever wider, and it'll be easy. Sure everyone will be miserable, but then they'll need comedy even more. Boo, yet hooray. But probably just boo.
Its worrying when you think that in a way, we comedians need things to go a bit tits up to make our jobs easier. The ash volcano was a blessing, as have been any bombings, attacks, wars, recessions. You name it, its fuels us like misery coal to our funny engine. I hope you don't vote for Tory, because if you do, you're probably a complete idiot. But if you are a Tory voter, haven't read through their manifesto, can't see the way in which they are controlling all the media, or ultimately want your extra £1 million inheritance tax for yourself, then let me thank you for trying to provide me and the comedy circuit with enough easy gags for at least 12 months. Oh and out of interest, if you haven't noticed how the media are totally Tory owned at the mo, perhaps have a look at this blog sent to me yesterday from @IssacGreaves:
CONSERVATIVES: ATTACK OF THE CLONES
Terrifying huh? Yep indeedy. As is the way Brown's actually very good speech from the Citizen's UK assembly yesterday wasn't shown on the news at all. I'm starting to wonder what else is being covered up and how soon it'll be before I have to start shouting 'Solent Green is people' a lot. Of course you're all grown ups, you can all make your own decisions. Except for the ones who are children, or pets. We should so give pets the vote.
Phew. This blog wasn't meant to happen like that. I was going to complain about boring things like the weather (why is it cold in May? Why? WHY?), that I've heard of two other Tiernans today and the fact that Fat Tuesday is sold out tonight because we are awesome. That last bit is merely blowing my own trumpet to be fair. I can't actually play the trumpet due to lack of musical skills so it would just make that awkward raspberry noise and people would look at me discerningly. Probably for the best I didn't then.
I am mostly writing my Edinburgh show today. I say 'mostly' but so far I went for a run, which was good in that I really really didn't want to, but I did anyway, but bad in that everything hurts, my face won't stop being red and I'm sure the more I wear shorts the more people of Finsbury Park will rally to keep me in my home till I cover up. After the run its been emails, eating, watching vids on youtube, checking BBC news to see which MP has fucked what stuff up today and procrastinating to the highest accord. Thing is, I have my solo shows at the Brighton Fringe this Thursday and Friday. I've got some of my show, but also it is going to be election night and I have a feeling that I may want to spend some of my show talking about it all. So do I spend the day writing my Edinburgh show or writing more about current affairs? If I write topical/political stuff, chances are it won't be very topical or political, but also, it'll be useless in a few months time and not usable for Edinburgh. There is part of me, that while for the sake of the country I pray it really really doesn't happen, that hopes the Tories get in just so joke writing will be easier for a while. I mean, the US had Bush for years which meant all the comedians didn't really have to write much for ages. Then they got Obama and now they actually have to remember how to do jokes again. In the UK the 80s comedians had a field day with Thatcher and we've trudged through the 90s and 00's with a decent bit on terrorism and illegal wars, but now its all sort of simmered down. Cameron will run this country into the ground so well that there will be minefields of humour for us to take from it. I'll be able to spend most of the day in bed then at night spout about his increasingly poor decisions, the high rate of unemployment, the privatising of public resources and the rich/poor divide getting ever wider, and it'll be easy. Sure everyone will be miserable, but then they'll need comedy even more. Boo, yet hooray. But probably just boo.
Its worrying when you think that in a way, we comedians need things to go a bit tits up to make our jobs easier. The ash volcano was a blessing, as have been any bombings, attacks, wars, recessions. You name it, its fuels us like misery coal to our funny engine. I hope you don't vote for Tory, because if you do, you're probably a complete idiot. But if you are a Tory voter, haven't read through their manifesto, can't see the way in which they are controlling all the media, or ultimately want your extra £1 million inheritance tax for yourself, then let me thank you for trying to provide me and the comedy circuit with enough easy gags for at least 12 months. Oh and out of interest, if you haven't noticed how the media are totally Tory owned at the mo, perhaps have a look at this blog sent to me yesterday from @IssacGreaves:
CONSERVATIVES: ATTACK OF THE CLONES
Terrifying huh? Yep indeedy. As is the way Brown's actually very good speech from the Citizen's UK assembly yesterday wasn't shown on the news at all. I'm starting to wonder what else is being covered up and how soon it'll be before I have to start shouting 'Solent Green is people' a lot. Of course you're all grown ups, you can all make your own decisions. Except for the ones who are children, or pets. We should so give pets the vote.
Phew. This blog wasn't meant to happen like that. I was going to complain about boring things like the weather (why is it cold in May? Why? WHY?), that I've heard of two other Tiernans today and the fact that Fat Tuesday is sold out tonight because we are awesome. That last bit is merely blowing my own trumpet to be fair. I can't actually play the trumpet due to lack of musical skills so it would just make that awkward raspberry noise and people would look at me discerningly. Probably for the best I didn't then.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Bank Aaarghliday
Much like Hannibal from the A-Team, I do indeed love it when a plan comes together. Unlike Hannibal, I can't really handle cigars as I inhale all wrong and feel a bit sick, and I don't have a team of crack commandos who were sent to prison for a crime they didn't commit. Or at least, I'm not telling you about it if I do. But those two differences are not important today. No merely the similarity and sadly several plans have not come together and so I am slightly peeved. This blog is much later than I wanted it to be because of these plans not being at all cooperative with each other. Today was meant to be a relaxing day where myself and Layla went to see a wedding venue that she has already been to, and was certain I would love it. We were then to have some lunch, drive home and have a nice relaxing Bank Holiday Monday together. The first bit that went wrong? I didn't love the venue. I didn't hate, but I didn't love it. Some bits of it were really very nice and in fact, most of it was pretty good, but I just couldn't see me being the groom there. Layla could definitely see herself being the bride there however, and I wondered if we should get married over Skype. I'm not entirely sure what I want in our wedding venue. I mean, that's not true. Ideally, I'd like to get married in a big castle with knights, jousting and general medieval mayhem. Or on a spaceship. Or a safari park. Or somewhere like that. But that won't happen. So instead I'm now going to have to spend a lot of time looking at places for what it is I do want. They definitely need doors, windows, chairs, a bar and forks and things. They definitely don't want to be on fire, contain zombies or explosives. I will start with that list and see what happens.
Upon leaving the venue we hit bank holiday traffic. That's like normal traffic only with even shittier more angry drivers because they think they should be having a day off, but they're not. I did wonder how many drivers causing this traffic were indeed bankers and several saw the red and charged straight through anyway, which is similar to how Barclays treat my account. So several hours of traffic later, and I'm now at home. Seemingly all to plan at this point, no? No. I've said I'll host Old Rope tonight because a) its a great gig, b) I'm broke and c) I'm an idiot. I say c) I'm and idiot because 1) I haven't worked on any new material, 2) I was looking forward to not gigging and 3) I'm definitely an idiot. So, like a complete wuss, I shall quickly end this blog with a series of bullet points while I scribble away at new material for tonight's gig. I have had a lot of thoughts lately, so here are a few:
- On Radio 2 this afternoon, the lead singer from Scouting For Girls was discussing the greatest ever British songwriters. I'm not sure why they asked him on when his lyrics include such rapes of the English language as 'Elvis isn't dead, I heard him on the radio.' There are, before you even delve into the aural shitstorm that is the rest of that song, many many things wrong with those lyrics. Firstly, does he not understand the concept of recorded music? As a 'musician' he should probably understand that it is a way of capturing a voice and when the radio plays music, it isn't because that singer has shrunk and hidden in the radio, or because they have had to get to the studio to sing the track live everytime. Can you imagine if that was the definition of being alive? To have your voice on a recorded format? The world would be so ridiculously over-populated. Anyway, this wasn't what I wanted to vent about, I should be writing new jokes. What I wanted to vent about was the singer's sentence describing how he felt when he heard ELO's Mr Blue Sky for the first time. He said, and I quote, 'it literally blew my mind.' No, it didn't. It might have metaphorically blown his mind, but it did not literally blow his mind. The big difference is, I wish it literally had, just so his brains were splattered across a wall somewhere instead of being used to parp on the concept of music.
- I have decided, I think, to cull the people I follow on Twitter. I am trying to make rules how to do so, but I'm fairly sure some people might get annoyed. Thing is, I'm truly tired of reading how 'I'm having a drink', 'I'm going to the park' etc etc. The point of Twitter is to write updates that may interest others, not simulate how a child may write about their summer holidays in a present tense. I am fully aware that everyone does a few boring tweets, myself not an exception, so I think I will allow everyone I follow one or two a day. If they exceed that, without any attempt to buffer them with exciting links, jokes or comments I need to know about, I'm unfollowing. That's the new self made law of Twiernan. I hope you will do the same to me if I commit such twatrocities. Quality, not quantity as someone who correct a spelling mistake on sweet packaging once said. Or more likely, I'll just keep following everyone anyway and get angry.
- This also goes for Facebook, but I haven't yet worked out how to do this. There are lots of people I am 'friends' with, that I don't really know or have met because they saw me at a gig. I am totally cool with being these lovely people's 'friend' but most of them haven't joined my fan page. This means that while they are happy to have me as a 'friend' they aren't a fan of my work. The important difference here is, if you are a fan, then you can come to my gigs etc, whilst generally having nothing else to do with me. If you are my 'friend' and you accidentally invite me to your birthday, I may come because I have little else to do, be terrible company, not know anyone and possibly ruin your day. No one wants that. Think it through.
- The man running for Tory MP in our area states on his leaflet (which looks fairly glossy and probably cost loads Cameron you hypocritical twat) that he is not a 'career MP'. Why would you put that? You mean we might be enticed to vote for someone who can't be arsed to fully commit to his constituency and just wants to do it as a hobby? Someone who has two other big business jobs and so many offshore bank accounts, he doesn't really need the job but thought he'd do it for a laugh? The second part of his double barrelled surname is Cox. I feel its appropriate. Chris Cox also has that surname but isn't one. I felt I should put that in as he reads this and I didn't want him to get sad.
Hmm, that was a lot angrier than it meant to be. That's what Bank Holiday traffic does. Grrrr. Joy should follow tomorrow. I don't know who she is, which is why I only say 'should', incase she just stays at home.
Upon leaving the venue we hit bank holiday traffic. That's like normal traffic only with even shittier more angry drivers because they think they should be having a day off, but they're not. I did wonder how many drivers causing this traffic were indeed bankers and several saw the red and charged straight through anyway, which is similar to how Barclays treat my account. So several hours of traffic later, and I'm now at home. Seemingly all to plan at this point, no? No. I've said I'll host Old Rope tonight because a) its a great gig, b) I'm broke and c) I'm an idiot. I say c) I'm and idiot because 1) I haven't worked on any new material, 2) I was looking forward to not gigging and 3) I'm definitely an idiot. So, like a complete wuss, I shall quickly end this blog with a series of bullet points while I scribble away at new material for tonight's gig. I have had a lot of thoughts lately, so here are a few:
- On Radio 2 this afternoon, the lead singer from Scouting For Girls was discussing the greatest ever British songwriters. I'm not sure why they asked him on when his lyrics include such rapes of the English language as 'Elvis isn't dead, I heard him on the radio.' There are, before you even delve into the aural shitstorm that is the rest of that song, many many things wrong with those lyrics. Firstly, does he not understand the concept of recorded music? As a 'musician' he should probably understand that it is a way of capturing a voice and when the radio plays music, it isn't because that singer has shrunk and hidden in the radio, or because they have had to get to the studio to sing the track live everytime. Can you imagine if that was the definition of being alive? To have your voice on a recorded format? The world would be so ridiculously over-populated. Anyway, this wasn't what I wanted to vent about, I should be writing new jokes. What I wanted to vent about was the singer's sentence describing how he felt when he heard ELO's Mr Blue Sky for the first time. He said, and I quote, 'it literally blew my mind.' No, it didn't. It might have metaphorically blown his mind, but it did not literally blow his mind. The big difference is, I wish it literally had, just so his brains were splattered across a wall somewhere instead of being used to parp on the concept of music.
- I have decided, I think, to cull the people I follow on Twitter. I am trying to make rules how to do so, but I'm fairly sure some people might get annoyed. Thing is, I'm truly tired of reading how 'I'm having a drink', 'I'm going to the park' etc etc. The point of Twitter is to write updates that may interest others, not simulate how a child may write about their summer holidays in a present tense. I am fully aware that everyone does a few boring tweets, myself not an exception, so I think I will allow everyone I follow one or two a day. If they exceed that, without any attempt to buffer them with exciting links, jokes or comments I need to know about, I'm unfollowing. That's the new self made law of Twiernan. I hope you will do the same to me if I commit such twatrocities. Quality, not quantity as someone who correct a spelling mistake on sweet packaging once said. Or more likely, I'll just keep following everyone anyway and get angry.
- This also goes for Facebook, but I haven't yet worked out how to do this. There are lots of people I am 'friends' with, that I don't really know or have met because they saw me at a gig. I am totally cool with being these lovely people's 'friend' but most of them haven't joined my fan page. This means that while they are happy to have me as a 'friend' they aren't a fan of my work. The important difference here is, if you are a fan, then you can come to my gigs etc, whilst generally having nothing else to do with me. If you are my 'friend' and you accidentally invite me to your birthday, I may come because I have little else to do, be terrible company, not know anyone and possibly ruin your day. No one wants that. Think it through.
- The man running for Tory MP in our area states on his leaflet (which looks fairly glossy and probably cost loads Cameron you hypocritical twat) that he is not a 'career MP'. Why would you put that? You mean we might be enticed to vote for someone who can't be arsed to fully commit to his constituency and just wants to do it as a hobby? Someone who has two other big business jobs and so many offshore bank accounts, he doesn't really need the job but thought he'd do it for a laugh? The second part of his double barrelled surname is Cox. I feel its appropriate. Chris Cox also has that surname but isn't one. I felt I should put that in as he reads this and I didn't want him to get sad.
Hmm, that was a lot angrier than it meant to be. That's what Bank Holiday traffic does. Grrrr. Joy should follow tomorrow. I don't know who she is, which is why I only say 'should', incase she just stays at home.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Iron Filings
Its a bloody miserable day outside. One of those days where the weather has decided everything needs to be in more shades of grey than a film noir piece. Unfortunately it hasn't added any of the spy suspense or intrigue of such a piece and instead everything just seems boring and mundane. Its like a constant version of parliament TV. When its been sunny, but then gets like this, that's the worst. Much like Janet Jackson sang 'You don't know what you've got till its gone', which is what Joni Mitchell thought after she'd sold the rights for those lyrics. No Q-Tip, Joni Mitchell isn't 'in the house', merely her song lyrics and basic tune are, but what you have done, is generally butchered them. I would dispute that if Joni was indeed 'in the house' she'd probably be screaming 'Why have you killed my metaphorical baby?' a lot. (I'd like to point out Q-Tip is a legend of things, just not in that track). But I digress. Basically, today is shit. I'm so pleased I get to stay indoors all day and not go outside or do any sort of of outdoor festival today. What? What's that you say? I'm doing two gigs tonight and one of them is an outdoor festival? Ten types of fuck sticks. I'm sure they'll be much fun, but right now I'm eating leftover pick and mix for breakfast, having a temporary lobotomy by watching Alexa Chung on T4 talk and act as though she's having a constant stroke, and playing Angry Birds on my iPhone.
This morning's goodness follows yesterday's day of fun. The Camden Crawl was pretty good. I felt a tad braindead by the end, but generally the crowd were brilliant and included a band we created called the Honey Frakker Bollocks, a man who was sure all the original Sugababes were dead (a theory I hope is true and I have decided that they keep changing because, like genetic clones, they only last 6 months before rotting), and someone who's job it was to make 'safe flooring' as opposed to floors covered in bombs. All the acts were awesome and the afternoon ended on a Rufus Hound shouting about cock sucking, which, I think you'll agree, is how afternoons should probably always end. But after the fours hours of compereing, I felt more than a tad braindead. This was the perfect mindset to go and see Iron Man 2 with my friends.
I'm not going to put any spoilers here, but lets just say that the ending of Iron Man 2 means I can't wait for the many sequels, Iron Manatee, Iron Mango and Iron Manflu. Arf. Seriously though, its a bit bloody good. There was much discussion in the car after about bits of poor scripting, plot holes etc, and I began to wonder when that happened to us as people? I was fairly sure I'd enjoyed it all, why did I find myself in a car with three other men complaining about a film that contained all the elements we should be happy with? Dudes in robot suits attack things with an array of weaponry, Scarlett Johansson is in an increasingly brilliant array of tight fitting revealing clothes, Robert Downey Jr is brilliant and Samuel L Jackson wears an eye patch like the coolest pirate on earth. What's not to like? Well, if you're going to be picky, then there are a few bits, but I'm going to try not to be. If I was 8 years old, it may well be my favourite film ever. Saying that though, it is a 12A, so I may not have got in. But when I was 8, I didn't have the knowledge or insight into films that means I now can't just watch and enjoy. I blame our A Level media studies teachers who told us all about mis-en-scene and juxtapositioning and other clever words. Sure they were meant to teach us that as per the curriculum, but from then on, a film was no longer just a film. Instead it involved lots of other things and factors and suddenly every film became judged on lots of different levels.
Its a plus point in some ways. I think its very nice to tell you exactly why I hated a film, but it also means I don't think I've ever really enjoyed a film since. I can no longer enjoy others stand-up as I over analyse it, I tend to look far too heavily into who's produced what music and get very picky about writing techniques in books. Is this some sort of sliding scale whereby by the time I'm 40 I will not be able to enjoy anything properly again? Meals will get critiqued to the very last herb, my cats will be subject to constant reports on how they are eating and mieowing and I will wake up every morning and give my night's sleep a score out of ten based on position, length and dreams had. Really I should be looking at today's shit weather and saying 'well hey, it means we won't have a hose ban this summer' before dancing down the street with a brolly doing my own version of 'Singin' In The Rain'. Or, on second thoughts, perhaps its better I just get miserable and don't act like a prick before getting pneumonia.
Oh and nobody got the competition right yesterday, which is lucky as I didn't have a prize. The ones I made up were:
Twelve Kinds Of Ankle
Eat Your Brain and Sick It Out
David Arse
Stylistic Henry and the Timelords
Bark Off
Elephantitus
Raaargle Spaaargle
Oooh Danone
Which means all the others were real. Yes, That Fucking Tank are real. I really regret not going to see them now, as judged on that name, they must be brilliant. I also really think that if you are in a new band with no name as yet, then you should probably be called Twelve Kinds of Ankle.
This morning's goodness follows yesterday's day of fun. The Camden Crawl was pretty good. I felt a tad braindead by the end, but generally the crowd were brilliant and included a band we created called the Honey Frakker Bollocks, a man who was sure all the original Sugababes were dead (a theory I hope is true and I have decided that they keep changing because, like genetic clones, they only last 6 months before rotting), and someone who's job it was to make 'safe flooring' as opposed to floors covered in bombs. All the acts were awesome and the afternoon ended on a Rufus Hound shouting about cock sucking, which, I think you'll agree, is how afternoons should probably always end. But after the fours hours of compereing, I felt more than a tad braindead. This was the perfect mindset to go and see Iron Man 2 with my friends.
I'm not going to put any spoilers here, but lets just say that the ending of Iron Man 2 means I can't wait for the many sequels, Iron Manatee, Iron Mango and Iron Manflu. Arf. Seriously though, its a bit bloody good. There was much discussion in the car after about bits of poor scripting, plot holes etc, and I began to wonder when that happened to us as people? I was fairly sure I'd enjoyed it all, why did I find myself in a car with three other men complaining about a film that contained all the elements we should be happy with? Dudes in robot suits attack things with an array of weaponry, Scarlett Johansson is in an increasingly brilliant array of tight fitting revealing clothes, Robert Downey Jr is brilliant and Samuel L Jackson wears an eye patch like the coolest pirate on earth. What's not to like? Well, if you're going to be picky, then there are a few bits, but I'm going to try not to be. If I was 8 years old, it may well be my favourite film ever. Saying that though, it is a 12A, so I may not have got in. But when I was 8, I didn't have the knowledge or insight into films that means I now can't just watch and enjoy. I blame our A Level media studies teachers who told us all about mis-en-scene and juxtapositioning and other clever words. Sure they were meant to teach us that as per the curriculum, but from then on, a film was no longer just a film. Instead it involved lots of other things and factors and suddenly every film became judged on lots of different levels.
Its a plus point in some ways. I think its very nice to tell you exactly why I hated a film, but it also means I don't think I've ever really enjoyed a film since. I can no longer enjoy others stand-up as I over analyse it, I tend to look far too heavily into who's produced what music and get very picky about writing techniques in books. Is this some sort of sliding scale whereby by the time I'm 40 I will not be able to enjoy anything properly again? Meals will get critiqued to the very last herb, my cats will be subject to constant reports on how they are eating and mieowing and I will wake up every morning and give my night's sleep a score out of ten based on position, length and dreams had. Really I should be looking at today's shit weather and saying 'well hey, it means we won't have a hose ban this summer' before dancing down the street with a brolly doing my own version of 'Singin' In The Rain'. Or, on second thoughts, perhaps its better I just get miserable and don't act like a prick before getting pneumonia.
Oh and nobody got the competition right yesterday, which is lucky as I didn't have a prize. The ones I made up were:
Twelve Kinds Of Ankle
Eat Your Brain and Sick It Out
David Arse
Stylistic Henry and the Timelords
Bark Off
Elephantitus
Raaargle Spaaargle
Oooh Danone
Which means all the others were real. Yes, That Fucking Tank are real. I really regret not going to see them now, as judged on that name, they must be brilliant. I also really think that if you are in a new band with no name as yet, then you should probably be called Twelve Kinds of Ankle.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Crawling, Not Waving
Off to host the comedy at the Camden Crawl this afternoon so shall keep this brief. It should be much fun, spending hour after hour talking to all the passing trendy kids as they pop in to watch some hilarity before going off to watch brand new bands that are the coolest thing with names like Shitkicker and the Banjos or Tunebakeoff Brougues or something. I do genuinely enjoy hosting at the Camden Crawl, but there is nothing to make you feel old like looking at the entire weekend's line-up and only recognising one or two names. Of those one or two, I only like one, Roots Manuva, and he's on tomorrow when I can't go. So with my wristband that allows me to check out all the top names, I am going to do my compereing, and then at 5, survey the list of everyone playing, where they all are, then promptly leave and go watch Iron Man 2. Yes I am sad and old. Yes I am the opposite of cool. Which I suppose is warmish. Yes, I should be using this opportunity to cram myself up against crazy cool tight jeaned trucker capped emo indie electro bandit grocer bastards, or whatever the term is now, as we mosh bop to hard style rock jazz gospel, but I'm not. And that's mostly because I'd call it hard style rock jazz gospel and at some point someone would ask me to leave.
I am going to spend the afternoon making up band names and see how many of the audience believe me. Here, as a tester for you, is a mix of bands. Some are real and are playing the Crawl this weekend. They may well be very good, I just don't know. The rest I've made up. They also may be very good, but its unlikely as I've made them up. In my head, they are mostly shit. Sorry imaginary bands. Why not try and guess which ones are real? Answers tomorrow.
Twelve Kinds Of Ankle
Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs
Eat Your Brain and Sick It Out
David Arse
Yr Ods
Tubelord
Stylistic Henry and the Timelords
Leafcutter John
Bark Off
That Fucking Tank
Elephantitus
Emily Barker and the Red Clay Halo
Raaargle Spaaargle
Cosmo Jarvis
Is Tropical
Oooh Danone
Just a bit of fun innit? I honestly, had I not written it, would not be able to get any right. Post your answers in the comments though. There'll be a prize for anyone who gets it all right. Maybe. No googling!
If you are going to the Crawl, come say hello. We're at the Abbey Tavern on Kentish Town Road. There's a pretty stellar line-up both days so should be awesome. Why not come and point out just how uncool I am? In return I will try and understand your disco folk stomp grooves.
I am going to spend the afternoon making up band names and see how many of the audience believe me. Here, as a tester for you, is a mix of bands. Some are real and are playing the Crawl this weekend. They may well be very good, I just don't know. The rest I've made up. They also may be very good, but its unlikely as I've made them up. In my head, they are mostly shit. Sorry imaginary bands. Why not try and guess which ones are real? Answers tomorrow.
Twelve Kinds Of Ankle
Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs
Eat Your Brain and Sick It Out
David Arse
Yr Ods
Tubelord
Stylistic Henry and the Timelords
Leafcutter John
Bark Off
That Fucking Tank
Elephantitus
Emily Barker and the Red Clay Halo
Raaargle Spaaargle
Cosmo Jarvis
Is Tropical
Oooh Danone
Just a bit of fun innit? I honestly, had I not written it, would not be able to get any right. Post your answers in the comments though. There'll be a prize for anyone who gets it all right. Maybe. No googling!
If you are going to the Crawl, come say hello. We're at the Abbey Tavern on Kentish Town Road. There's a pretty stellar line-up both days so should be awesome. Why not come and point out just how uncool I am? In return I will try and understand your disco folk stomp grooves.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Final Debate: My Review / Tiernan Talks Back
This blog shall be in two sections. Firstly, my official clever, well informed and intelligent review of the political debate last night. Then, because several of you have asked for it, the brief return of Tiernan Talks Back. Oh yes. So here we go:
The Final Debate: My Review by Tiernan Douieb aged 29 and 3 months, 21 days and some hours and minutes
I only listened to the first 10 minutes of the final television of the political debate last night and within that 10 minutes, what I understood was it was generally Cameron going on and on about how Brown has fucked everything up. Then you had Brown telling everyone that Cameron would fuck everything up. Whilst inbetween Nick Clegg must have felt a bit like a child who stumbles into the kitchen to find his parents having the sort of argument that may lead to divorce. He kept sort of popping up and saying 'Hello, why can't we all just chat about this a bit?' It was admirable until he realised it didn't work and then changed format to the pointy kid at the playground while two others are fighting who just says 'well you're both dicks' a lot. This was then retaliated by Brown and Cameron ganging up together to patronise little Clegg about how shit his policies really are. It was much like an episode of Grange Hill I felt, only with the 'just say no' message being applied to the other parties.
Basically what I got from it really, is that I still don't have a clue who I'd like to run the country. According to polls that were made and analysed by papers owned by Tory supporters, Cameron won the debate last night. I'm not sure how he did this, as once again no points appeared to have been allocated by anyone and what he kept saying was that the working people would generally be punished for living if his government gets in via extending the retirement age, and freezing public sector pay. I mean, he didn't say it like that. He used clever explanations like saying that 'Labour's leaflets clearly cost £6 bazillion to make so we should probably stop leaflets. No more leaflets anyone. Ever. If you have a leaflet you're breaking Britain. Oh and by the way, millionaires, feel free to keep even more of your dosh.' I really really hope no one votes for him ever.
Brown's mistake was not coming straight out and saying 'I'm the PM. I can say what I frikkin' like. You're all bigots. And idiots. And you there with the glasses, you're a dickhead and I hate you.' Then run around high fiving everyone. I mean, sure, most of the country would hate him for such things, but I think it'd be ace. I bet if Obama called someone a 'bigot' or some other slur everyone would spend days telling the 'bigot' that they totally got served. If I ran the country I would so use some of my power to call people whatever I liked and enjoy it. This is probably why I am not running the country. Sadly instead Gordon 'Eeyore' Brown just appeared a bit like a sad senile old lady who just kept repeating the same thing over and over again 'we are the only party that can deal with economic recovery.' They possibly are, but unfortunately Brown isn't shiny like Clegg or Cameron and looks like he's anti-botox causing an inability to smile, so therefore, televised debates really aren't in his favour.
And Clegg. Well everyone likes smiley, happy Clegg. But while he is smiley and happy, can he actually do the big job? After the ten minutes I heard and the various radio shows and talks afterwards, there does seem to be an air of excited kid about LIb Dems policies. 'Oooh and then we can get rid of that and do that and then we'll go there and change this,' none of it having all that much explanation as to how it will work. Last night on BBC West Midlands ( I only listen to the coolest stations) on the way back from Wolverhampton, the Solihull Lib Dem MP was talking about how they will just scrap University Tuition fees. Brilliant. I'm all for that. Then the presenter, and the Labour, Tory and other guests all questioned where the universities would get funding from otherwise with the country in such a deficit and unable to help. And she kind of just mumbled a bit and self faded out. I also use that technique of getting out of difficult arguments. But again, I am not aiming to run the country. Actually, I am, but realistically I have as much hope of getting anywhere near the seat as anyone from UKIP. Ha.
That was my review. It probably hasn't helped a bit and wasn't particularly insightful but there you go. I've really enjoyed the televised debates and I hope they continue to happen. I was terrified at first it would be like Parliament TV which is as exciting as watching images of dead goldfish floating on top of a stagnant tank. Several static images of sleeping old upper class men is not very exciting at all. But this has been good. It means people have gained a much bigger interest in this election than they have in a while and it feels like more people than ever are actually paying attention to how the country should be run, which is brilliant. I'll be honest, it hasn't really changed my decision as I've already decided who I'm voting for but its based on the individual campaigner, not his party. My local MP has always been awesome and I'd quite like him, his anti-war, left wing and general good views to stay, so that sorts that out then.
Now for Tiernan Talks Back: The Return. Going backwards starting with yesterday:
Yesterday's blog Full Mooning prompted several responses from Anonymous. Anonymous tends to post a lot, and I'm pleased that he, she or whoever is such a regular poster.
Firstly they say 'Why didn't security toss the wankers (wankettes?) out on their arses?' Followed by a second post, who I will pretend is the same person, saying ' That's such a shame. I don't understand why people feel this sense of entitlement towards celebrities. They are also human beings: you don't own them, as much as you might objectify them. Treat them with respect.'.
Well Anon, er the second bit isn't really a question. So, er, yeah. I agree with you. The first bit though, I should point out that the audience were not really wankers or wankettes as such. Just people who hadn't been to comedy before, probably ever. Or a show of any sort for that matter. They weren't malicious, but at the same time, weren't particularly paying attention to anything ever. I suppose they were wankers. As to why security didn't chuck them out? Well, it was a very tiny gig and as such, security was non-existent. The gigs we do can range from an audience of 20 to 1000 and even with the larger numbers, gigs sometimes stupidly don't provide security. Like the gig I did last October in a theatre where a man got on stage and tried to punch my face. No security meant I was fending for my tiny self. Its a bit ridiculous, but it basically comes down to managers being very stingy with cash and not wanting to spend it on the protection of innocents. I make it sound like they might hire Robocop.
Also on that blog HowlieT says: 'My mum was a psychiatric nurse and always used to claim that the patients were more mental on a fullmoon. So it must be true.'
Again, can't really reply to that. All I will say is 'Ha! Take that Nick Doody!'
And Jonathan Tisdall says 'I can't help feeling that I started this'. To which TTB says 'yeah you did. So did the moon. Stupid moon.'
Going back a bit to 'This Is The News' from April 26th -
Kin Bang says, on the second debate: ' I thought they (the MP's) looked a lot dapper this time round.'
I'm assuming Kin, you missed an 'i' out in that word.
Cantus says: ' I believe the case is more that Edgar Wright is a poor Tiernan Douieb impersonator struggling to make ends meet by throwing to together the odd blockbuster movie with his mates. I tend to think you sound quite a lot more like a chap I heard on Talksport Radio a few months ago. The host kept referring to him as Teenan Doobebubble so I know you're a different person.'
Let us find this Teenan Doobebubble and destroy him. Along with Tiernan Dweeb fellow and Timan Doobie who keep stealing all my gigs.
That's all for Tiernan Talks Back this week. Mostly because I can't be arsed to write anymore today. Any questions?
The Final Debate: My Review by Tiernan Douieb aged 29 and 3 months, 21 days and some hours and minutes
I only listened to the first 10 minutes of the final television of the political debate last night and within that 10 minutes, what I understood was it was generally Cameron going on and on about how Brown has fucked everything up. Then you had Brown telling everyone that Cameron would fuck everything up. Whilst inbetween Nick Clegg must have felt a bit like a child who stumbles into the kitchen to find his parents having the sort of argument that may lead to divorce. He kept sort of popping up and saying 'Hello, why can't we all just chat about this a bit?' It was admirable until he realised it didn't work and then changed format to the pointy kid at the playground while two others are fighting who just says 'well you're both dicks' a lot. This was then retaliated by Brown and Cameron ganging up together to patronise little Clegg about how shit his policies really are. It was much like an episode of Grange Hill I felt, only with the 'just say no' message being applied to the other parties.
Basically what I got from it really, is that I still don't have a clue who I'd like to run the country. According to polls that were made and analysed by papers owned by Tory supporters, Cameron won the debate last night. I'm not sure how he did this, as once again no points appeared to have been allocated by anyone and what he kept saying was that the working people would generally be punished for living if his government gets in via extending the retirement age, and freezing public sector pay. I mean, he didn't say it like that. He used clever explanations like saying that 'Labour's leaflets clearly cost £6 bazillion to make so we should probably stop leaflets. No more leaflets anyone. Ever. If you have a leaflet you're breaking Britain. Oh and by the way, millionaires, feel free to keep even more of your dosh.' I really really hope no one votes for him ever.
Brown's mistake was not coming straight out and saying 'I'm the PM. I can say what I frikkin' like. You're all bigots. And idiots. And you there with the glasses, you're a dickhead and I hate you.' Then run around high fiving everyone. I mean, sure, most of the country would hate him for such things, but I think it'd be ace. I bet if Obama called someone a 'bigot' or some other slur everyone would spend days telling the 'bigot' that they totally got served. If I ran the country I would so use some of my power to call people whatever I liked and enjoy it. This is probably why I am not running the country. Sadly instead Gordon 'Eeyore' Brown just appeared a bit like a sad senile old lady who just kept repeating the same thing over and over again 'we are the only party that can deal with economic recovery.' They possibly are, but unfortunately Brown isn't shiny like Clegg or Cameron and looks like he's anti-botox causing an inability to smile, so therefore, televised debates really aren't in his favour.
And Clegg. Well everyone likes smiley, happy Clegg. But while he is smiley and happy, can he actually do the big job? After the ten minutes I heard and the various radio shows and talks afterwards, there does seem to be an air of excited kid about LIb Dems policies. 'Oooh and then we can get rid of that and do that and then we'll go there and change this,' none of it having all that much explanation as to how it will work. Last night on BBC West Midlands ( I only listen to the coolest stations) on the way back from Wolverhampton, the Solihull Lib Dem MP was talking about how they will just scrap University Tuition fees. Brilliant. I'm all for that. Then the presenter, and the Labour, Tory and other guests all questioned where the universities would get funding from otherwise with the country in such a deficit and unable to help. And she kind of just mumbled a bit and self faded out. I also use that technique of getting out of difficult arguments. But again, I am not aiming to run the country. Actually, I am, but realistically I have as much hope of getting anywhere near the seat as anyone from UKIP. Ha.
That was my review. It probably hasn't helped a bit and wasn't particularly insightful but there you go. I've really enjoyed the televised debates and I hope they continue to happen. I was terrified at first it would be like Parliament TV which is as exciting as watching images of dead goldfish floating on top of a stagnant tank. Several static images of sleeping old upper class men is not very exciting at all. But this has been good. It means people have gained a much bigger interest in this election than they have in a while and it feels like more people than ever are actually paying attention to how the country should be run, which is brilliant. I'll be honest, it hasn't really changed my decision as I've already decided who I'm voting for but its based on the individual campaigner, not his party. My local MP has always been awesome and I'd quite like him, his anti-war, left wing and general good views to stay, so that sorts that out then.
Now for Tiernan Talks Back: The Return. Going backwards starting with yesterday:
Yesterday's blog Full Mooning prompted several responses from Anonymous. Anonymous tends to post a lot, and I'm pleased that he, she or whoever is such a regular poster.
Firstly they say 'Why didn't security toss the wankers (wankettes?) out on their arses?' Followed by a second post, who I will pretend is the same person, saying ' That's such a shame. I don't understand why people feel this sense of entitlement towards celebrities. They are also human beings: you don't own them, as much as you might objectify them. Treat them with respect.'.
Well Anon, er the second bit isn't really a question. So, er, yeah. I agree with you. The first bit though, I should point out that the audience were not really wankers or wankettes as such. Just people who hadn't been to comedy before, probably ever. Or a show of any sort for that matter. They weren't malicious, but at the same time, weren't particularly paying attention to anything ever. I suppose they were wankers. As to why security didn't chuck them out? Well, it was a very tiny gig and as such, security was non-existent. The gigs we do can range from an audience of 20 to 1000 and even with the larger numbers, gigs sometimes stupidly don't provide security. Like the gig I did last October in a theatre where a man got on stage and tried to punch my face. No security meant I was fending for my tiny self. Its a bit ridiculous, but it basically comes down to managers being very stingy with cash and not wanting to spend it on the protection of innocents. I make it sound like they might hire Robocop.
Also on that blog HowlieT says: 'My mum was a psychiatric nurse and always used to claim that the patients were more mental on a fullmoon. So it must be true.'
Again, can't really reply to that. All I will say is 'Ha! Take that Nick Doody!'
And Jonathan Tisdall says 'I can't help feeling that I started this'. To which TTB says 'yeah you did. So did the moon. Stupid moon.'
Going back a bit to 'This Is The News' from April 26th -
Kin Bang says, on the second debate: ' I thought they (the MP's) looked a lot dapper this time round.'
I'm assuming Kin, you missed an 'i' out in that word.
Cantus says: ' I believe the case is more that Edgar Wright is a poor Tiernan Douieb impersonator struggling to make ends meet by throwing to together the odd blockbuster movie with his mates. I tend to think you sound quite a lot more like a chap I heard on Talksport Radio a few months ago. The host kept referring to him as Teenan Doobebubble so I know you're a different person.'
Let us find this Teenan Doobebubble and destroy him. Along with Tiernan Dweeb fellow and Timan Doobie who keep stealing all my gigs.
That's all for Tiernan Talks Back this week. Mostly because I can't be arsed to write anymore today. Any questions?
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Full Mooning
There is a bit of a unproven theory in the comedy world that when its a full moon, gigs tend to be more than a little odd. Its not an uncommon theory that people go a bit bonkers when the moon's all big, round and shiny like Wayne Rooney's face. For a start the Met and Sussex police employ more officers on full moons (see here: http://bit.ly/2QB7Wv), because they say people are a tad more violent and aggressive. I think it may well be that they are just as drunk as usual, but can see each other better. Similarly, burglaries are easier to do without torches, and should you need to kidnap your best alien friend and cycle away from the coppers, there are fewer better nights. Full moons also affects women's periods. They had a particularly hard time in the 16th century due to continuous full moons. Then of course there are werewolves. And personally, when I see some idiot mooning out a limo, I feel more violent and angry than usual.
In terms of comedy though, its general knowledge that audiences are weird on that one day a month. Not necessarily bad, unlikely to be great, but definitely weird. Is it a fact? Well no. And skeptics, such as Nick Doody, would say 'such a thing has not been proved and therefore cannot be true.' I'd say to you skeptics that there is no proof that ghostly ninja boy scouts exist, but then who comes into my flat at night and ties knots in all my electrical wires and headphones? Huh? There is some sort of full moon proof. The staff at the Komedia recently recalled to me a particularly rowdy gig a few weeks back that happened to be on a full moon. Pete Graham at the Kings Head makes a note of any gigs that seemed a bit off and goes back and checks them against full moon charts and 9 times out of 10, they match. The other time it's just an annual dickhead outing. They have those and you must be careful not to confuse the two. If you do, just remember, Neil Armstrong didn't fly and land on a dickhead. Well he might have done, but it wasn't on camera. I'm not suggesting anything.
In terms of personal proof, I've only ever gigged on a full moon a few times and some of them have been mad, some have been fine, one was cancelled and one was a Comedy 4 Kids show where a child told me vampires didn't exist. Little prick. But then there was last night. If last night wasn't caused by the full moon then I'm not sure what it was. The audience weren't all dickheads, only some. So unless the annual dickhead outing allowed friends and partners, I'm assuming it can't be that. At first, all involved assumed it was because it was openly advertised that Noel Fielding was on. When such things happen, you know the audience will be only Noel fans and will therefore give less than a shit about the acts beforehand. It wasn't actually that they gave less of a shit, but during the first half there was general chatting, laughter in some very odd places and a man in the very front row who decided to pretend he worked at Butlins and kept getting up in the middle of jokes to get more booze. I was compereing and nobody really wanted to give me any information at all when I talked to them. So I did material. They also didn't like that. If I knew how to juggle I'd have done that instead, but I guess they would have remained unfazed. By the second half they were more lively, but still a tad weird though Tiffany Stevenson did a great set and got them onboard a bit more.
Then Noel went on and we quickly realised that while they may well be Noel fans, they are possibly the weirdest fans he has. He started his set brilliantly, but was constantly heckled by shouts asking what he had done to his now blonde hair. He had about 6 or 7 jokes to retort with about the very same subject, but this did not stop them asking repeatedly throughout the 40 mins he was onstage and even at one point, tell him they preferred him with brown hair. Several of them acted as though they were on some sort of a date with him, just constantly asking questions such as 'How's Julian?' and generally making every attempt to not let Noel actually do a set. As Tiff rightly put it, it was like the live version of the Heat 'Spotted' section with one girl pointing out very loudly that she had seen him in her local 24 hour store. When he finally got going, much of his material, whilst keeping us backstage highly amused, seemed to confuse them and fairplay to Noel, he just had fun with it. Afterwards as I spoke to one of the more sensible audience members out front, two of the girls managed to get backstage and berate Noel about his hair till he left. People are lovely.
So why were they like that? Well you might say, its because they knew Noel Fielding (who's name means he has to sift through Christmas wishes. They didn't like that joke yesterday) was on and therefore all the loon balls were attracted to the gig in the first place. Yeah that's reasonable. But you are still wrong. It was the bloody moon wasn't it? Full bloody moon. Hence why they were all lupey. See that wordplay? Eat that wordplay. EAT IT! As Nick Doody said to me last night, if I am to blame such things on the moon, then I will have to blame all gig results on the status of the moon that evening. I'm not if status is the right word. I can't imagine the moon updates its facebook with things like 'got another crater on my face. OMG!' or something. Well, Doody, I think such things can be done. I'm in Wolverhampton tonight and I will bet you that along with the moon, whilst I'm on, the audience's attention will definitely wane.
In terms of comedy though, its general knowledge that audiences are weird on that one day a month. Not necessarily bad, unlikely to be great, but definitely weird. Is it a fact? Well no. And skeptics, such as Nick Doody, would say 'such a thing has not been proved and therefore cannot be true.' I'd say to you skeptics that there is no proof that ghostly ninja boy scouts exist, but then who comes into my flat at night and ties knots in all my electrical wires and headphones? Huh? There is some sort of full moon proof. The staff at the Komedia recently recalled to me a particularly rowdy gig a few weeks back that happened to be on a full moon. Pete Graham at the Kings Head makes a note of any gigs that seemed a bit off and goes back and checks them against full moon charts and 9 times out of 10, they match. The other time it's just an annual dickhead outing. They have those and you must be careful not to confuse the two. If you do, just remember, Neil Armstrong didn't fly and land on a dickhead. Well he might have done, but it wasn't on camera. I'm not suggesting anything.
In terms of personal proof, I've only ever gigged on a full moon a few times and some of them have been mad, some have been fine, one was cancelled and one was a Comedy 4 Kids show where a child told me vampires didn't exist. Little prick. But then there was last night. If last night wasn't caused by the full moon then I'm not sure what it was. The audience weren't all dickheads, only some. So unless the annual dickhead outing allowed friends and partners, I'm assuming it can't be that. At first, all involved assumed it was because it was openly advertised that Noel Fielding was on. When such things happen, you know the audience will be only Noel fans and will therefore give less than a shit about the acts beforehand. It wasn't actually that they gave less of a shit, but during the first half there was general chatting, laughter in some very odd places and a man in the very front row who decided to pretend he worked at Butlins and kept getting up in the middle of jokes to get more booze. I was compereing and nobody really wanted to give me any information at all when I talked to them. So I did material. They also didn't like that. If I knew how to juggle I'd have done that instead, but I guess they would have remained unfazed. By the second half they were more lively, but still a tad weird though Tiffany Stevenson did a great set and got them onboard a bit more.
Then Noel went on and we quickly realised that while they may well be Noel fans, they are possibly the weirdest fans he has. He started his set brilliantly, but was constantly heckled by shouts asking what he had done to his now blonde hair. He had about 6 or 7 jokes to retort with about the very same subject, but this did not stop them asking repeatedly throughout the 40 mins he was onstage and even at one point, tell him they preferred him with brown hair. Several of them acted as though they were on some sort of a date with him, just constantly asking questions such as 'How's Julian?' and generally making every attempt to not let Noel actually do a set. As Tiff rightly put it, it was like the live version of the Heat 'Spotted' section with one girl pointing out very loudly that she had seen him in her local 24 hour store. When he finally got going, much of his material, whilst keeping us backstage highly amused, seemed to confuse them and fairplay to Noel, he just had fun with it. Afterwards as I spoke to one of the more sensible audience members out front, two of the girls managed to get backstage and berate Noel about his hair till he left. People are lovely.
So why were they like that? Well you might say, its because they knew Noel Fielding (who's name means he has to sift through Christmas wishes. They didn't like that joke yesterday) was on and therefore all the loon balls were attracted to the gig in the first place. Yeah that's reasonable. But you are still wrong. It was the bloody moon wasn't it? Full bloody moon. Hence why they were all lupey. See that wordplay? Eat that wordplay. EAT IT! As Nick Doody said to me last night, if I am to blame such things on the moon, then I will have to blame all gig results on the status of the moon that evening. I'm not if status is the right word. I can't imagine the moon updates its facebook with things like 'got another crater on my face. OMG!' or something. Well, Doody, I think such things can be done. I'm in Wolverhampton tonight and I will bet you that along with the moon, whilst I'm on, the audience's attention will definitely wane.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)