BANTER
There are several words I probably use too much at the moment. Among these are 'ace' which I very much like using as I remember using it way back in the 90's and its verbal resurrection gives me both nostalgia and the confidence that it is a word that, through concerted historical effort, gives gravitas to its slang meaning. There are few people out there who upon hearing something was 'ace' would be unsure of its goodness. Unless you were the opposing player at a series of high stake card games. The other word I'm using a fair amount is 'hella'. I like this word and its used fully tongue in cheek, having gained it from a South Park episode many years ago and its taken some time to properly infiltrate my vocab. Now its here and I'm hella pleased about it. See? That was its correct use. To take a biblical ideology, cut off the corners and put it unnecessarily amongst other words it doesn't hang out with. There are quite a few others but the that bothered Nat the other day is 'banter', berated me for using it instead of 'conversation' or 'chat'. Thing is, banter is a whole different ball game to those other words. Whilst conversation could be about a mortgage or paint drying or Boring McBoreason's Boring Dog Boreface, banter is always more jovial than that. There is, supposedly an art to conversation. Well I would suggest that while that art is perhaps Constable or something sensible like that, banter is the art that people would actually put up on their walls to make a room look more exciting. I would name people but I know full that whoever I say there will be some criticism of my choice. Art is very much enjoyed on a personal level and one man's Pollock is very much another's 3 year old painting baboon. I am that second man. Sigh.
Last night, when meeting my friend Jacqui, we definitely had 'banter'. To describe it as anything less would be insulting. I've known Jacqui for donkey's years (I am assuming that most donkeys are about 12 years old) and she is one of my favourite people to chat absolute shit with. Sure there was some actual chat in there, some life commentary and that, but there was also a lengthy discussion about how we would survive if the world was attacked by zombies, robots and natural disasters all at once. Through some careful planning, we have managed to create a fool proof plan, although should an earthquake open up the ground underneath us, we'd fail. Aside from that, we'd have a floating house in the middle of a lake (inland, no danger of tsunamis), that's anchored in place. The lake would have a 100ft moat around the edge allowing all zombies to fall in it and be trapped. The house would have its own EMP system to destroy all robots that managed to get through the lake in the first place, and we would travel around on jet skis to a small ramp that contained our armoured truck. I think you'll find we'll be fine. Start bidding for your place in our hella pad right now. That is banter. Right frikkin' there. I choose to maintain the use of this word in its correct and appropriate usage and when I choose to merely have a conversation, I shall do so. Until then zombies, robots and er, natural disasters, beware.
LIBYA
Ok so Gaddiffi is a bad guy. This is all very obvious. But at the same time, has no one learnt anything from the war in Iraq? This all feels like a terrible reprise of such events with already 64 people being killed over the weekend from missile strikes. The government are being very quick to say they don't want to hurt any civilians, whilst at no point confirming if that's who's died in the first place. Sure there have been an airstrike or two that have been cancelled due to civilians being spotted etc but I fear its only a matter of time before this caution is ignored. In the words of Han Solo 'I got a bad feeling about this.' If only Western leaders would realise that nearly everytime they create one of these monsters through arms deals and oil bidding, they have to remove them at the expense of innocent lives. Again that always seems to come second to getting money in their pockets. Well more fool them as when the robot zombie disaster apocalypse comes money will be irrelevant. Idiots.
So yeah, thoroughly depressing news that I'm finding it hard to make light of in anyway. The best so far I can do is to read every statement from the MoD as though it says Mod, and its being made by a 1960's ska fan in a pork pie hat. This doesn't work that much.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Terminal Problems
I remember when Terminal 5 at Heathrow was about to built and many people protested about such happenings. There was rightful outcry about the damage it would cause to the environment, but also the noise pollution for nearby residents, traffic issues and various other problems. I thought very little of it at the time, but today, after picking up my brother's girlfriend from the said terminal, I am seriously thinking about starting up those protests again. Not for the same reasons by any means. No, it should be shut down on the sheer principle that nowhere should make it quite that hard to get to the 'pick-up' area. A veritable winding maze of barriers, car parks and exit signs that lead nowhere, its as though King Minos himself had structured such evil as a trap for his enemies. I followed the signs to the 'pick up' area twice and both times found myself somehow outside of the airport again. After the first time I was convinced this was me being a moron, unable to read the simplest of directions. But after the second time, I realised there was no alternative. Even asking a car park attendant which turning I'm meant to be taking when it clearly says 'pick up' area and leads you away from the terminal, was met by the response 'dunno.' I'm fairly sure there is no pick up area and its all an elaborate ruse to make me increasingly angry. It worked. Well done BAA. Despite the fact your name makes you sound like a corporation for sheep, you are far more clever than that.
Above all else, it also costs just to drive to the pick up area. £2.70 for 0-30 mins stay. Technically, if you've never been, you've stayed there for 0 minutes and we should all be constantly paying £2.70 for nothing. I'm glad we're not but I do feel that either they should stop being quite so evil or follow through with it properly. I'm just saying that none of these things need to be anywhere near as difficult as they are and yet somehow someone has decided that ease of use is not within the criteria for a functioning airport. As I finally gave up and parked in a bay diagonally as a mark of vengeance, taking out two other bays from use all at once, I noticed several other cars just aimlessly driving around looking upset. Many had the appearance of fear, perhaps worried they were trapped in an Escher painting or some sort of delusional hell. Finally driving away the car at the exit barrier next to me just stopped there for some time, perhaps trying to figure out if they'd have to loop the whole way round again or if maybe, they could just leave their family member or loved one to fend for themselves and get the train. How many jetlagged souls are still wandering around looking for their pick up, unknown to them that mere feet away, their pick up is looking for them with no means of meeting. Damn you terminal 5, I wish you'd never been built.
Above all else, it also costs just to drive to the pick up area. £2.70 for 0-30 mins stay. Technically, if you've never been, you've stayed there for 0 minutes and we should all be constantly paying £2.70 for nothing. I'm glad we're not but I do feel that either they should stop being quite so evil or follow through with it properly. I'm just saying that none of these things need to be anywhere near as difficult as they are and yet somehow someone has decided that ease of use is not within the criteria for a functioning airport. As I finally gave up and parked in a bay diagonally as a mark of vengeance, taking out two other bays from use all at once, I noticed several other cars just aimlessly driving around looking upset. Many had the appearance of fear, perhaps worried they were trapped in an Escher painting or some sort of delusional hell. Finally driving away the car at the exit barrier next to me just stopped there for some time, perhaps trying to figure out if they'd have to loop the whole way round again or if maybe, they could just leave their family member or loved one to fend for themselves and get the train. How many jetlagged souls are still wandering around looking for their pick up, unknown to them that mere feet away, their pick up is looking for them with no means of meeting. Damn you terminal 5, I wish you'd never been built.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Some Relief
Twitter is swamped with Comic Relief pledges today and all across the UK people are doing silly things in the name of charity. Even the bank clerk at the desk today was wearing an Arsenal tshirt instead of the usual smart dress. At least I assume she was doing that for Comic Relief. Otherwise standards have seriously dropped. Either way it didn't seem to help her deal with the loony man who's sister was on Dragon's Den and insisted on telling us where its difficult to get Halal meat thanks to all the 'bloody Arabs'. I swiftly left. Anyway, in amongst all this charity goodness, I am doing a normal gig tonight. For money. Do I feel guilty? A bit. I haven't really done much for Comic Relief ever in my life. Today I've text donated a fiver and on Wednesday with my croaky voice I recorded some donation pleas for Radio 3's Red Nose Day airings. They originally asked me to do six of them, but after I rasped my way through the first one , they then decided I should do only three. I then did another one and they told me we were all done and I left, sniffling my way through Western House.
But other than that I haven't really done anything. I don't want to be a cynic as I'm sure Comic Relief does loads and loads for people around the world, but part of me sat at TV centre yesterday, watching as a large poster of Jack Whitehall was being plastered to the outside walls, wondering just why they need to go so over the top with everything. Let's Dance, for example, must cost a shedload to produce. While I don't discredit any of the acts that do it, as it all seems like a lot of fun, but I wonder how much money could be given to the charity if the cameras weren't hired, lighting turned off etc etc. Fair play if its all done at a loss, but sometimes I just question why people need so much encouragement to help others. Do we always need a plethora of celebrities to say 'stop children starving'? Does anyone ever need Chris Moyles on air for any length of time let alone 52 hours? I suppose its just a sad indictment of society rather than anything else.
Still, I feel I should probably contribute more. I have decided via Twitter that I will do various tasks if others donate. So far I've said that I'm meant to be in Bournemouth tonight with Josh Widdicombe and Roisin Conaty, but if someone donates over £2k then I will drive us to their town instead. No response. I will now state that if you donate £3k I will leave either Josh or Roisin at the 7th service station we pass, with no hope of ever getting to the gig on time. Get donating people, and by ruining a gig for people in Bournemouth you could be helping others around the world. Hmm. This seems slightly detrimental doesn't it? Ok. Maybe you should just donate what you like to who you like when you like. Or perhaps give an actual comic 'relief' and send me all your savings? If you like I'll then send you a letter every year telling you exactly what your money has been used for and how I'm doing. Plan?
Alternatively donate some dosh to Red Nose Day. I did it by text because I'm super lazy. I understand you can just text GIVE to 70011 to give a quid, 70005 for a fiver and 70010 for a tenner. Or turn on radio 3 and wait for me to tell you do it whilst seemingly gargling gravel.
But other than that I haven't really done anything. I don't want to be a cynic as I'm sure Comic Relief does loads and loads for people around the world, but part of me sat at TV centre yesterday, watching as a large poster of Jack Whitehall was being plastered to the outside walls, wondering just why they need to go so over the top with everything. Let's Dance, for example, must cost a shedload to produce. While I don't discredit any of the acts that do it, as it all seems like a lot of fun, but I wonder how much money could be given to the charity if the cameras weren't hired, lighting turned off etc etc. Fair play if its all done at a loss, but sometimes I just question why people need so much encouragement to help others. Do we always need a plethora of celebrities to say 'stop children starving'? Does anyone ever need Chris Moyles on air for any length of time let alone 52 hours? I suppose its just a sad indictment of society rather than anything else.
Still, I feel I should probably contribute more. I have decided via Twitter that I will do various tasks if others donate. So far I've said that I'm meant to be in Bournemouth tonight with Josh Widdicombe and Roisin Conaty, but if someone donates over £2k then I will drive us to their town instead. No response. I will now state that if you donate £3k I will leave either Josh or Roisin at the 7th service station we pass, with no hope of ever getting to the gig on time. Get donating people, and by ruining a gig for people in Bournemouth you could be helping others around the world. Hmm. This seems slightly detrimental doesn't it? Ok. Maybe you should just donate what you like to who you like when you like. Or perhaps give an actual comic 'relief' and send me all your savings? If you like I'll then send you a letter every year telling you exactly what your money has been used for and how I'm doing. Plan?
Alternatively donate some dosh to Red Nose Day. I did it by text because I'm super lazy. I understand you can just text GIVE to 70011 to give a quid, 70005 for a fiver and 70010 for a tenner. Or turn on radio 3 and wait for me to tell you do it whilst seemingly gargling gravel.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Rambling Man
Hello blog. You are being crowbarred into my day today in a way that were you a living being of sorts you'd probably find it difficult to breathe and when you finally got out would have uncomfortable cramps in odd places. It has been, as the last few weeks seems to be, another odd whirlwind of a day that, so far all in all, have revolved around me suggesting things and the suggestees saying 'no' to different degrees of politeness. I have, thanks to this line of work, become a master at handling rejection. From industry types that is. I still falter at such things from women unless I'm so tanked up on booze I can't notice, and I get very upset when Tiffany Stevenson's cat runs away from me as soon as I walk in the door. Aside from that though, you say no to this face and this face will totally take it. Like a weak, non-argumentative, self doubting Thomas. I always wondered why Thomas was so doubting. Tom who I live with is fairly doubting, but I have met a few others that definitely weren't. Its apparently based on the dude who didn't believe Jesus was back from the dead, but then, after seeing him, he did believe. I think that this means its not a great term for skeptics or non-believers due to his scaredy cat reforming at the end. I think Thomas should have stoically defended his point of view, hitting Jesus with sticks and treading on his toes until there was undeniable proof it was him, only to them turn around and say that its probably a look a like in a wig. That would be a true doubting Thomas. But instead, once again, a biblical character is praised once again for something that is, overall, a bit rubbish. Much like today being Saint Patrick's Day where a man is hailed for ridding a country that very likely never had snakes, from snakes. I feel that I should parade around the UK saying I have got rid of all the lions just so I can be a saint. Though knowing my luck, I'd be taken to the lions in the zoo and be told to get rid of them too, resulting in huge death in the face via lion paw/teeth.
What's nice is that today's 'no's were occasionally interspersed with some 'hmm's and a few, and very rare 'yes's, along with some stares, and general awkward silences. Its often that these meetings can feel somewhat like the very worst of Pinter plays. I haven't yet ever worked out how exactly how do these sorts of events and I wonder how anyone ever learns. Some people are easy, and you sit down, banter ensues, everyone's happy, you leave with a kick in your step and find out five weeks later they want nothing from you. Others seem more difficult at first and then two years later get you in for something. Then some just stare through your eyes into your soul, knowing full well your existence will be of little help to anyone ever. Now, at least, after being in this stupid job for several blue moons, it tends to be more and more the first two. Eventually I will just be able to work it down to the first option whereby I can constantly raise my hopes up high for at least a day or so, before wondering why it is I can't pay the bills again.
Actually, that paragraph was far too miserable. Truth is, stuff's all good, but that's dull isn't it? Essentially, as readers, you probably want to know about me battling lions or getting the plague or something that keeps it all gritty, don't you? Well, you're horrible. Why can't you just wish someone well for once? Meanies. Yeah. I said it. You all go out tonight, pretend you're Irish so you can drink more and we'll see who's enjoying themselves. Oh. Yeah, its you isn't it? Yeah, well you go and have fun. Go on. Manners.
I have no idea where today's blog is going. For your sake you'd better hope all these meetings come to nothing so that this blog can start to make sense again. What do you mean of course they'll come to nothing? Bloody doubting Thomas.
What's nice is that today's 'no's were occasionally interspersed with some 'hmm's and a few, and very rare 'yes's, along with some stares, and general awkward silences. Its often that these meetings can feel somewhat like the very worst of Pinter plays. I haven't yet ever worked out how exactly how do these sorts of events and I wonder how anyone ever learns. Some people are easy, and you sit down, banter ensues, everyone's happy, you leave with a kick in your step and find out five weeks later they want nothing from you. Others seem more difficult at first and then two years later get you in for something. Then some just stare through your eyes into your soul, knowing full well your existence will be of little help to anyone ever. Now, at least, after being in this stupid job for several blue moons, it tends to be more and more the first two. Eventually I will just be able to work it down to the first option whereby I can constantly raise my hopes up high for at least a day or so, before wondering why it is I can't pay the bills again.
Actually, that paragraph was far too miserable. Truth is, stuff's all good, but that's dull isn't it? Essentially, as readers, you probably want to know about me battling lions or getting the plague or something that keeps it all gritty, don't you? Well, you're horrible. Why can't you just wish someone well for once? Meanies. Yeah. I said it. You all go out tonight, pretend you're Irish so you can drink more and we'll see who's enjoying themselves. Oh. Yeah, its you isn't it? Yeah, well you go and have fun. Go on. Manners.
I have no idea where today's blog is going. For your sake you'd better hope all these meetings come to nothing so that this blog can start to make sense again. What do you mean of course they'll come to nothing? Bloody doubting Thomas.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Cowboys and Doggs
GRITTY TRUTH
Yes I know I'm light years behind the rest of the world but I finally saw True Grit last night. Thanks to a gig being cancelled due to a huge lack of attendance, the cinema called. Not literally, that'd be odd. It just felt like the next most sensible thing to do. Sure the entire reason I was heading to Edinburgh in the first place, and yes you wouldn't be the first person to point out that there are indeed cinemas in London near where I live. Sigh. Anyway, the fillum is amazing. I don't need to tell you that. You've probably already seen it, read it, seen the original, bought the tshirt and eaten the breakfast cereal. Which I assume, would be quite difficult to chew and rather tasteless. Much like grit. Its the first good Western I've seen in ages and after spending far too much of my time playing Red Dead Redemption last year I sat like an excited child watching Jeff Bridges in a stetson and eye patch shoot at things while saying cool stuff in old western speak. Much like most small people, I often liked the notion of being a cowboy, catching outlaws and generally shooting tins of beans off walls. But as the film progressed it dawned on me that I wouldn't survive 10 mins in the Wild West. I'm fairly sure my career as a cowboy would involve me falling off a horse for 9 minutes, then getting up and being shot by ol' Ned or someone with a similar name. If I made it past that, then generally sleeping in forests, having to ride a horse, or even just not washing very often would have me just lie down and wait for death rather than put up with it. I mean, this morning, in my very nice hotel in Edinburgh, I grumbled that the shower wasn't as powerful as our one at home. I'd be a dead cowboy. Dead in the face.
This now adds to the long list of things I thought of being as a kid that have now not become possible. Jedi - I have tried using the force lots of times and apart from waving my hand when I walk through automatic doors, it doesn't work. Astronaut - I think I'd throw up with the G Force. I can't handle particularly scary rollercoasters. Lion Tamer - If I was allowed a taser gun, yes. But I'd still stand outside a fence. An electric fence. Spiderman - I hate heights. I am going to start to tell all children I meet to get more realistic with their adult options to avoid disappointment. What's that little Suzie? You want to be stuck in a 9-5 in council job in an open plan office with people you don't like working on something that due to government cuts merely keeps nudging a tide of mostly pointless work that you'll be made redundant from within the year? Well done Suzie.
NATE DOGG
I was extremely sad to hear about the death of Nate Dogg this morning. I have banged on about my love of the hippety hop in this blog before, and have definitely mentioned my introduction into the genre being Snoop Doggy Dogg's Doggystyle at the back of 7H's science class. Nate Dogg being one of the collaborater's on that album, I have, over the years, taken for granted that deep voice bellowing G Funk over a Westside beat many a time. Sure he was often there mentioning that 'it ain't no fun if the homies can't have none' and other possible gang rape style lyrics, all of which were hugely wrong, but y'know, he sung them with panache. There are few others in the world that can sing about turning bodies cold and make you want to sing along without, at any point, questioning the fact that he's basically a murder. The more I'm writing this, the more I realise he sang bad bad things about terrible stuff. But I still thought he was awesome. You gotta have an exception to the rule haven't you? I'm currently listening to 'Lay Low' in tribute and let me tell you, that if anyone was going to warn you about needing to stay undercover for a while if you've been grassing up other g's, then it'd have been Nate Dogg and no one else. I would pour a sip of gin on the streets, but er, I don't like gin and I don't have any. Rest in peace.
TIME TO GET ILL
I still have a sore throat. This seems ridiculous now. I mean, I've done everything I can to make it better: whisky, beer, late nights, shouting at people down a microphone. Yet none of it, and I mean none of it seems to have made it better. Its just bizarre. I have to do a radio interview today. Expect it to be the sexiest interview I've ever done. Especially the sexy coughing and spluttering. That'll be real sexy. Or maybe I'll just sound tough? Like I got true grit? Or just like a coughing spluttering ill face. Sigh again.
ANDREW LANSLEY
If that many doctors are telling you the NHS reform won't work, and yet you're still going ahead with it, how can we trust your opinion on anything? These people know how to save lives, they are one of the most important group of people in the country and the way in which the foundations of our society works, yet you aren't listening? I really hope you get a seriously dangerous illness and choose to ignore them then too. God I hate the Tories.
Yes I know I'm light years behind the rest of the world but I finally saw True Grit last night. Thanks to a gig being cancelled due to a huge lack of attendance, the cinema called. Not literally, that'd be odd. It just felt like the next most sensible thing to do. Sure the entire reason I was heading to Edinburgh in the first place, and yes you wouldn't be the first person to point out that there are indeed cinemas in London near where I live. Sigh. Anyway, the fillum is amazing. I don't need to tell you that. You've probably already seen it, read it, seen the original, bought the tshirt and eaten the breakfast cereal. Which I assume, would be quite difficult to chew and rather tasteless. Much like grit. Its the first good Western I've seen in ages and after spending far too much of my time playing Red Dead Redemption last year I sat like an excited child watching Jeff Bridges in a stetson and eye patch shoot at things while saying cool stuff in old western speak. Much like most small people, I often liked the notion of being a cowboy, catching outlaws and generally shooting tins of beans off walls. But as the film progressed it dawned on me that I wouldn't survive 10 mins in the Wild West. I'm fairly sure my career as a cowboy would involve me falling off a horse for 9 minutes, then getting up and being shot by ol' Ned or someone with a similar name. If I made it past that, then generally sleeping in forests, having to ride a horse, or even just not washing very often would have me just lie down and wait for death rather than put up with it. I mean, this morning, in my very nice hotel in Edinburgh, I grumbled that the shower wasn't as powerful as our one at home. I'd be a dead cowboy. Dead in the face.
This now adds to the long list of things I thought of being as a kid that have now not become possible. Jedi - I have tried using the force lots of times and apart from waving my hand when I walk through automatic doors, it doesn't work. Astronaut - I think I'd throw up with the G Force. I can't handle particularly scary rollercoasters. Lion Tamer - If I was allowed a taser gun, yes. But I'd still stand outside a fence. An electric fence. Spiderman - I hate heights. I am going to start to tell all children I meet to get more realistic with their adult options to avoid disappointment. What's that little Suzie? You want to be stuck in a 9-5 in council job in an open plan office with people you don't like working on something that due to government cuts merely keeps nudging a tide of mostly pointless work that you'll be made redundant from within the year? Well done Suzie.
NATE DOGG
I was extremely sad to hear about the death of Nate Dogg this morning. I have banged on about my love of the hippety hop in this blog before, and have definitely mentioned my introduction into the genre being Snoop Doggy Dogg's Doggystyle at the back of 7H's science class. Nate Dogg being one of the collaborater's on that album, I have, over the years, taken for granted that deep voice bellowing G Funk over a Westside beat many a time. Sure he was often there mentioning that 'it ain't no fun if the homies can't have none' and other possible gang rape style lyrics, all of which were hugely wrong, but y'know, he sung them with panache. There are few others in the world that can sing about turning bodies cold and make you want to sing along without, at any point, questioning the fact that he's basically a murder. The more I'm writing this, the more I realise he sang bad bad things about terrible stuff. But I still thought he was awesome. You gotta have an exception to the rule haven't you? I'm currently listening to 'Lay Low' in tribute and let me tell you, that if anyone was going to warn you about needing to stay undercover for a while if you've been grassing up other g's, then it'd have been Nate Dogg and no one else. I would pour a sip of gin on the streets, but er, I don't like gin and I don't have any. Rest in peace.
TIME TO GET ILL
I still have a sore throat. This seems ridiculous now. I mean, I've done everything I can to make it better: whisky, beer, late nights, shouting at people down a microphone. Yet none of it, and I mean none of it seems to have made it better. Its just bizarre. I have to do a radio interview today. Expect it to be the sexiest interview I've ever done. Especially the sexy coughing and spluttering. That'll be real sexy. Or maybe I'll just sound tough? Like I got true grit? Or just like a coughing spluttering ill face. Sigh again.
ANDREW LANSLEY
If that many doctors are telling you the NHS reform won't work, and yet you're still going ahead with it, how can we trust your opinion on anything? These people know how to save lives, they are one of the most important group of people in the country and the way in which the foundations of our society works, yet you aren't listening? I really hope you get a seriously dangerous illness and choose to ignore them then too. God I hate the Tories.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Real Gigs
It is wet in Edinburgh. Read that sentence with all possible surprise completely void from your tone. It is always wet in Edinburgh, its part of the nature of the place. I sometimes worry that locals would suffer from dehydration if it stopped being wet. I also rarely see them drinking water so I think its just absorbed through the air like plants do. It is a silly place. I do love it though and despite it being out of Fringe season I have already embraced it in exactly the same way ie with a lot of whisky and a great gig. The whisky was because I have now definitely all but lost my voice. I thought that as I have no option of resting it, the next best thing would be to drink hod toddies till either it comes back at full volume or I get drunk enough to not care. Sadly neither happened even with Rosie at the Stand's constant help but making it less and less a toddy and more a vat of booze with some hot water in. The efforts were appreciated by all but my throat and liver. I have decided that tonight I will just rasp my way through my set and the students at Edinburgh University will just presume I am either saying wise things or being decidedly jazzy.
The great gig however was just because it was at the Stand and the Stand is just one of the very best gigs ever. I was going to write about this sort of thing on Friday after doing one of the other very best gigs ever, The Comedy Cellar, in Bracknell, but it becomes more and more clear everytime I gig just what makes a room work quite so well. The Stand have it absolutely nailed. Lovely staff, care over who they book, rigid rules to stop bellends being in the crowd, low ceilings, proper lighting, good sound and great visibility of the stage pretty much wherever you are in the room. That's it. That's all you need. The Comedy Cellar similarly rocks in the same way. And the most important thing is that its run by people who care about comedy. The acts feel looked after so they perform better. The audience feel looked after so they behave and enjoy themselves. Consequently everyone leaves feeling like they've had a great night, albeit full of too much whisky.
It just strikes me as odd that people can't get that blend of things right. Its not that difficult. If a room isn't good for comedy, don't run a gig there. If you are setting out to exploit acts or audience, don't run a gig. If you don't have a mic or decent lighting, don't run a gig. There are about 600 more reasons why people shouldn't run gigs including 'if you just want to compere yourself despite no intention of learning how or ever writing jokes' and 'if you want to run a special night where comedy and live bands are mixed' as well as ' if you just want an avenue to meet people otherwise you will continue to just sit at home by yourself crying'. I'm all for people starting gigs, not least because it gives me more work, but I just wish people would realise how much hard work it is to do it properly and that that should be respected. If you ever consider doing so, make a trip to a good gig and see how its done first. Then run your gig miles away from theirs so its not in competition.
Last night was awesome in that way only a great gig can be. I got to watch some excellent new acts, spoke like a horse whisperer throughout and was repeatedly handed whisky by Rosie. There is little that can be flawed about such things.
Sorry, not a particularly funny blog today, but my funny efforts are being placed into other writing for the moment. They are filled with funny right now. Were you to even read a glimpse you'd laugh till you were unable to breath and then you'd die. This is why I'm not putting them here and I'm balancing out this blog with non-funniness so that I don't feel tempted to read my own stuff then die. Or you could also read that whole bit as 'I haven't written anything yet.' One of those is the truth.
On another note 'aaaaaaaaaaaaaay' (please sing) and on another note to that, my website has been remade all nice, new shiny and with lots of new clicky things (here's a tip, click on the pics of my many disguises for more captions than a man should write). Have a look and let me know your thoughts. About the website that is. Or just anything. Any thoughts are fine:
www.tiernandouieb.co.uk
The great gig however was just because it was at the Stand and the Stand is just one of the very best gigs ever. I was going to write about this sort of thing on Friday after doing one of the other very best gigs ever, The Comedy Cellar, in Bracknell, but it becomes more and more clear everytime I gig just what makes a room work quite so well. The Stand have it absolutely nailed. Lovely staff, care over who they book, rigid rules to stop bellends being in the crowd, low ceilings, proper lighting, good sound and great visibility of the stage pretty much wherever you are in the room. That's it. That's all you need. The Comedy Cellar similarly rocks in the same way. And the most important thing is that its run by people who care about comedy. The acts feel looked after so they perform better. The audience feel looked after so they behave and enjoy themselves. Consequently everyone leaves feeling like they've had a great night, albeit full of too much whisky.
It just strikes me as odd that people can't get that blend of things right. Its not that difficult. If a room isn't good for comedy, don't run a gig there. If you are setting out to exploit acts or audience, don't run a gig. If you don't have a mic or decent lighting, don't run a gig. There are about 600 more reasons why people shouldn't run gigs including 'if you just want to compere yourself despite no intention of learning how or ever writing jokes' and 'if you want to run a special night where comedy and live bands are mixed' as well as ' if you just want an avenue to meet people otherwise you will continue to just sit at home by yourself crying'. I'm all for people starting gigs, not least because it gives me more work, but I just wish people would realise how much hard work it is to do it properly and that that should be respected. If you ever consider doing so, make a trip to a good gig and see how its done first. Then run your gig miles away from theirs so its not in competition.
Last night was awesome in that way only a great gig can be. I got to watch some excellent new acts, spoke like a horse whisperer throughout and was repeatedly handed whisky by Rosie. There is little that can be flawed about such things.
Sorry, not a particularly funny blog today, but my funny efforts are being placed into other writing for the moment. They are filled with funny right now. Were you to even read a glimpse you'd laugh till you were unable to breath and then you'd die. This is why I'm not putting them here and I'm balancing out this blog with non-funniness so that I don't feel tempted to read my own stuff then die. Or you could also read that whole bit as 'I haven't written anything yet.' One of those is the truth.
On another note 'aaaaaaaaaaaaaay' (please sing) and on another note to that, my website has been remade all nice, new shiny and with lots of new clicky things (here's a tip, click on the pics of my many disguises for more captions than a man should write). Have a look and let me know your thoughts. About the website that is. Or just anything. Any thoughts are fine:
www.tiernandouieb.co.uk
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