Comedians’ football aside, this week was spent feeling ‘under the weather’. It’s such a mum’s phrase but so accurate. Not fully bedridden but not 100%. When you’re feeling a bit ill you start telling anyone who will listen what percentage you’re at. I was going up to strangers saying, “I’m only feeling 70%” but turns out no one in Tesco cared. The benefits of living away from home far outweigh the negatives yet when you’re feeling like a bag of rat droppings all you want is a mum to put the palm of her hand on your forehead and bring you treats; I do mean ‘a’ mum because any mother will do when you’re below par. I’m looking into founding a rent-a-mum business for sick people: you get waited on hand and foot without getting nagged about tidying and washing.
When my percentage rose to an acceptable level, I managed to do a podcast with Carl Donnelly. After we’d talked nonsense we met up with Richard Mills to find a Chinese lantern for Fireworks weekend. The approach of fireworks night had completely passed me by because it is a holiday that has no appeal to me. It may sound miserable but my theory is once you’ve seen one firework, you’ve seen them all. The day a firework spells my name or shapes a penis in the sky is the day I get excited about bonfire night. Since there isn’t much money in spelling my name or displaying a massive sparkly cock at an event primarily more kids, I’m out.
Despite my apathy, I still helped Carl and Rich try to find a lantern because it was better than killing time alone. We went into a shop in Wimbledon that sells fireworks, guns and darts. I cannot believe that shop exists: all it’s missing is topless women staff to make it the most blokey shop in the world. The man who sold us the merchandise was also the biggest giggling geezer. When we went “have you got any Chinese lanterns?” He went, “no…apart from those massive one right in front of you”, then he laughed a lot. This also cheered me up and made me feel better. Therefore, I’m thinking of creating a rent-a-geezer business to be the sister company to my rent-a-mum and basically cure illness all around the world. Screw Oxfam, send mums and happy geezers to Africa and the world will be fixed. On that completely unexpected and odd note, laterz
Friday, 12 November 2010
Monday, 1 November 2010
25th-30th Oct: Didier Drogbear bruv
At the start of the week I invited my friend Max Garth over to play Fifa but mainly because he wanted me to mention me in this blog. I’ve no idea why his name being read by 8 people is appealing to him but I thought I’d oblige.
Having said that, he is the most hilarious man to play a computer game against. He genuinely thinks it’s a real match. He slags the ref off for the whole match whilst claiming that I have bribed him. Unless there is a cheat I’m unaware of, I’ve no idea how you pay an imaginary person to fix an imaginary game. His competitiveness is actually more entertaining to watch than the game itself. I once played in a 5-aside team with him and when we conceded a goal he got on his knees he started slapping the ground like it was a naughty girl and he was a notorious porn star. The fact he’s a bit of a geezer makes it all the more amusing. He at one point, paused the game to shout “Ref, how did you not see that foul…owwwww….you just made me swallow me gum!” after he restarted it, the ref had in fact given him a free-kick so his gum swallowing was in vein.
“Can you do me a favour and hang with me at Chelsea and I will pay you 60 quid to dress as a bear”
The above sentence was a message I received from my friend Joe Williams on Wednesday night. I naturally replied with “What in the name of Jesus’s left testicle are you on about? “ Turns out Joe was organising a promotion for a new kids bear and to do so he needed someone to join him in dressing as a massive bear. I obliged, a bit because I love hanging out with Joe but mainly because I got to dress as a massive bear. The way he sold it to me was “mate, this is proper bear suit with a speaker in it and everything.” My main concern is the novelty would wear off after 10 minutes. I was correct. It was sweaty and heavy and I now have new found respect for anyone who dresses as a massive toy at Disney Land: that is a sentence I never thought I’d utter.
It was only between 11am-4pm and we shared the time out but as I haven’t had a proper job for 18 months, my lack of a work ethic was highlighted. I was ready to knock it on the head by lunch time. The low-lights of it were, the sweating, the fact it was a Chelsea scum bear and constantly fearing a kid hitting you in your buried treasure. The funniest thing was how everyone, adults or children just wanted to hug you, it made me feel really happy collecting over 300 hugs. The other messed up thought that jumped into my brain was: if you were a sex offender and you wanted to touch children get yourself a bear outfit. It also baffled me how stupid most kids were. 8 year old boys were saying, like they were mini Columbos, “I swear bruv, that ain’t a real bear, there’s a man in dat suit. I swear.” Whilst I was inside the suit shouting, “of course I’m not a real bear you moron”.
A lot of kids also thought Didier Drogba was inside the suit. They should not be allowed outside the house or in public.
In summary, make someone's Christmas and buy them a bear outfit...unless they're a pedophile.
18th-22nd Oct: When a Polish Cleaner Meets a Cockney Builder
This week I got to had a friend visit from Ireland so got to hang out with them and therefore stave off the loneliness for most of the week. Rather than bore you with that I’ll tell you about my cleaner again.
Firstly I actually found out her name, it’s Pepper. So now I make hilarious jokes to her like, “Where’s Salt?” and I start sneezing on her but as she still speaks no English she just stares at me. She came over on Tuesday as she normally does but this time my flat mate Be asked me to request she does his ironing because he’s the world’s laziest man. It took me about 5 minutes of me miming and gesticulating to convey this message. Once she’d started though I never realised how long it take to iron 15 shirts, she was about an hour in before I realised she probably wasn’t going to have time to clean the flat properly. Worried we’d have a flat that contains a human turd on the carpet but 15 really straight shirts, I emailed Be and BJ about the scenario. They hilariously sent me about 10 emails along the lines of, “stop her!” and “unplug the tossing iron!” I wasn’t going to try to get her to stop something I’d laboured over to get her to do, otherwise I might end up with an iron shaped burn mark on my forehead
Whilst this was all happening I got a text from a cockney builder coming to sort the damp out saying he’d be over in 20 mins. He was supposed to turn up the day after, but a builder being a day early is pretty rare so I wasn’t going to complain. I had to wait for him to come over before shooting off. Now baring in mind how hard it was for me to explain ironing to Pepper imagine how ridiculous it was that I was trying to explain a small, shaved-headed, cockney builder was coming over and they were going to be in the flat together. It’s like the script to a low budget porno/ 1970’s sitcom. I just had to leave these two paradoxical figures alone in my flat. No one was dead when I returned, so I guess it all worked out fine. In my head I like to think they had really hygienic and well-constructed sex. I don’t know why I have these thoughts….
This is all something a normal person would do in day-to-day life and think nothing of it, whereas it’s the highlight of my week.
Firstly I actually found out her name, it’s Pepper. So now I make hilarious jokes to her like, “Where’s Salt?” and I start sneezing on her but as she still speaks no English she just stares at me. She came over on Tuesday as she normally does but this time my flat mate Be asked me to request she does his ironing because he’s the world’s laziest man. It took me about 5 minutes of me miming and gesticulating to convey this message. Once she’d started though I never realised how long it take to iron 15 shirts, she was about an hour in before I realised she probably wasn’t going to have time to clean the flat properly. Worried we’d have a flat that contains a human turd on the carpet but 15 really straight shirts, I emailed Be and BJ about the scenario. They hilariously sent me about 10 emails along the lines of, “stop her!” and “unplug the tossing iron!” I wasn’t going to try to get her to stop something I’d laboured over to get her to do, otherwise I might end up with an iron shaped burn mark on my forehead
Whilst this was all happening I got a text from a cockney builder coming to sort the damp out saying he’d be over in 20 mins. He was supposed to turn up the day after, but a builder being a day early is pretty rare so I wasn’t going to complain. I had to wait for him to come over before shooting off. Now baring in mind how hard it was for me to explain ironing to Pepper imagine how ridiculous it was that I was trying to explain a small, shaved-headed, cockney builder was coming over and they were going to be in the flat together. It’s like the script to a low budget porno/ 1970’s sitcom. I just had to leave these two paradoxical figures alone in my flat. No one was dead when I returned, so I guess it all worked out fine. In my head I like to think they had really hygienic and well-constructed sex. I don’t know why I have these thoughts….
This is all something a normal person would do in day-to-day life and think nothing of it, whereas it’s the highlight of my week.
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
11-15th Oct: kicking flat footballs with friends
This week was another throw back to my childhood. On top of doing vaguely constructive things like writing something funny with a friend, recording a podcast with Carl Donnelly and filming one of those talking head shows, I had an old school play-date with my friend’s Nick and Pat.
Before I describe the most boyish Friday ever, I’ll just mention this talking head shenanigans. I had to go into town to film some spiel for “Most Annoying people 2010”. I’m getting quite used to these shows but my only problem is I find it hard to slag off these “people”. The only people who actually annoy me are those that effect my life, I think Ronnie O’Sullivan is awesome and have no problem with him but I’ll happily slag off the tosser who got on the Underground before I’d got off! So I doubt I’ll make much of the edit saying “everyone’s lovely!” It’s hardly comedy gold.
On Friday Nick and Patrick came over early afternoon to play computer games and rinse me. If you lock 3 or more male friends in a room in the middle of the day there is very little that goes on apart from us all calling each other “benders”, “retards” and “gay-retards”. I mainly got torn apart after an advert I’m in came on the TV. Due to the wonders of Sky Plus, Nick rewound and played it in slow motion 10 times, zooming in on my worryingly crinkly forehead.; I still loved it though, I’d rather be getting annihilated for hours with friends than be alone. If all the ribbing and joshing wasn’t suitably immature we went down to the park with a Mitre Calcio. If anyone of our friends with jobs had walked through a Willsden Park at 4pm on Friday afternoon they would have seen three, 24 year old men playing an adapted version of World Cup singles. The worst thing was I didn’t win this pointless game; Nick “the penguin legs” Halewood managed to dominate with his trusty toe punt.
Being immature is one thing but losing at being immature is something I’m just not used to.
Before I describe the most boyish Friday ever, I’ll just mention this talking head shenanigans. I had to go into town to film some spiel for “Most Annoying people 2010”. I’m getting quite used to these shows but my only problem is I find it hard to slag off these “people”. The only people who actually annoy me are those that effect my life, I think Ronnie O’Sullivan is awesome and have no problem with him but I’ll happily slag off the tosser who got on the Underground before I’d got off! So I doubt I’ll make much of the edit saying “everyone’s lovely!” It’s hardly comedy gold.
On Friday Nick and Patrick came over early afternoon to play computer games and rinse me. If you lock 3 or more male friends in a room in the middle of the day there is very little that goes on apart from us all calling each other “benders”, “retards” and “gay-retards”. I mainly got torn apart after an advert I’m in came on the TV. Due to the wonders of Sky Plus, Nick rewound and played it in slow motion 10 times, zooming in on my worryingly crinkly forehead.; I still loved it though, I’d rather be getting annihilated for hours with friends than be alone. If all the ribbing and joshing wasn’t suitably immature we went down to the park with a Mitre Calcio. If anyone of our friends with jobs had walked through a Willsden Park at 4pm on Friday afternoon they would have seen three, 24 year old men playing an adapted version of World Cup singles. The worst thing was I didn’t win this pointless game; Nick “the penguin legs” Halewood managed to dominate with his trusty toe punt.
Being immature is one thing but losing at being immature is something I’m just not used to.
Friday, 15 October 2010
4-8th October: Just when you think you’re growing up you buy a new Xbox game
This week I was back in London and so much less depressed. I dabbled at writing but mainly enjoyed the fact I wasn’t being kept prisoner in a sleeping bag.
Things I did, which I now count as constructive were, buy the new Fifa 11, get a haircut and purchase a new adult coat. I went to Sainsbury’s to get Fifa because I heard that you get it £25 if you spend over £30 on other items. I had no real need to buy any groceries and I wanted to get gaming as quick as possible so I embarked on my own version of “Supermarket Sweep”; minus the orange faced house husband’s favorite, Dale Winton. My main criteria were, get items that are high cost, not perishable and can be easily swept into my trolley. For one horrific moment I thought they’d sold out of the game on the X-BOX. After queuing at customer services for ages, I begged, “please don’t tell me you’ve sold out because that’s the only reason I bought this food is to get Fifa for £25”: a sentence that no 24 year old man should ever say. Luckily they had it and I now have no reason to leave my flat.
Natalie, who I’ve mentioned in previous posts gave me my usual haircut…sort of. She prefaced the task by saying “I’m really hungover”. Well that’s fucking fantastic, person holding deadly weapons in and around my scalp and face! If you want to tighten your sphincter at 11am on Monday, try watching a person with the shakes put a sharp thing near your eye for 30 minutes: it’s impossible not to look at your inevitable injury due to the fact there are 30 bloody mirrors in the joint. She managed to pull it off, although it was a bit too short but that’s down to the fact I asked for it too short, no doubt distracted by the fact I may have to wear an eye patch at the end of the ordeal.
I also bought a proper man’s coat at Uni Qlo, which is incidentally the best shop in the world. I don’t know how much the Japanese workers are getting paid for making the clothes and I don’t want to because it may put me off buying suspiciously affordable garments from there. By a proper man’s coat, it has buttons and no hood. I think this is the first time I’ve owned one and I felt almost like a real grown-up until I went home and played 3 hours of virtual football online.
Things I did, which I now count as constructive were, buy the new Fifa 11, get a haircut and purchase a new adult coat. I went to Sainsbury’s to get Fifa because I heard that you get it £25 if you spend over £30 on other items. I had no real need to buy any groceries and I wanted to get gaming as quick as possible so I embarked on my own version of “Supermarket Sweep”; minus the orange faced house husband’s favorite, Dale Winton. My main criteria were, get items that are high cost, not perishable and can be easily swept into my trolley. For one horrific moment I thought they’d sold out of the game on the X-BOX. After queuing at customer services for ages, I begged, “please don’t tell me you’ve sold out because that’s the only reason I bought this food is to get Fifa for £25”: a sentence that no 24 year old man should ever say. Luckily they had it and I now have no reason to leave my flat.
Natalie, who I’ve mentioned in previous posts gave me my usual haircut…sort of. She prefaced the task by saying “I’m really hungover”. Well that’s fucking fantastic, person holding deadly weapons in and around my scalp and face! If you want to tighten your sphincter at 11am on Monday, try watching a person with the shakes put a sharp thing near your eye for 30 minutes: it’s impossible not to look at your inevitable injury due to the fact there are 30 bloody mirrors in the joint. She managed to pull it off, although it was a bit too short but that’s down to the fact I asked for it too short, no doubt distracted by the fact I may have to wear an eye patch at the end of the ordeal.
I also bought a proper man’s coat at Uni Qlo, which is incidentally the best shop in the world. I don’t know how much the Japanese workers are getting paid for making the clothes and I don’t want to because it may put me off buying suspiciously affordable garments from there. By a proper man’s coat, it has buttons and no hood. I think this is the first time I’ve owned one and I felt almost like a real grown-up until I went home and played 3 hours of virtual football online.
Thursday, 7 October 2010
September 27th- October 1st: away from home alone
This week was spent traipsing around the middle and north of Britain in my chick-magnet, white Nissan Micra. I went to such exotic destinations as Leicester, Nottingham, Liverpoo, Sheffield and Bridlington and I found myself far more homesick than when I was in Indonesia. This is due to the fact that I was crashing on sofas and was struggling to kill time during the day till my gigs.
When I’m at home during the day, even if I’m alone, I can constructively write, go to the gym or do some admin (play Fifa online). Whilst I’m staying with people despite them making me feel as comfortable as possible I can’t fully relax because I’m sort of in the way, therefore I don’t do anything constructive. Things I did to pass the time were go to the cinema twice: “Scott Pilgrim” and “The Other Guys” were both good, I especially enjoyed the latter due to the fact I think Mark Walberg is the coolest man in the world. I would happily bum him in exchange for some of his coolness, although I don’t think this is a proven ‘get cooler’ technique. I also took 2 hours to eat a sandwich at lunch at Leeds University, mainly because I was staring at everyone trying desperately hard to impress each other with clothes, new hairstyles and a variety of different sized earphones. The people with the biggest earphones think they’re the biggest legends but in actual fact they come across as the biggest bellends.
I stayed with Chris Quaile (nicknamed ‘The Egg’), who kindly let me crash for 3 days in Leeds but the fact I was in my sleeping bag meant I was massively uncomfortable. I understand the practicality of a sleeping bag but why does the bottom bit have to remain zipped tightly? Surely you should have the option of turning the bag into a cover? It’s so irksome trying to sleep in a cotton pharaohs tombstone, it’s like practicing for being buried alive. You may be thinking, why didn’t I just bring a duvet with me as there is plenty of room in my car? The answer is that I’m a moron but at least it’s given me something completely minor to complain about.
Now I’m back in the comfort of NW London, I can do something constructive like…well, check my emails 20 times. However, I can do it in the comfort of my own pants. I’m may be lonely but at least I’m comfortable.
When I’m at home during the day, even if I’m alone, I can constructively write, go to the gym or do some admin (play Fifa online). Whilst I’m staying with people despite them making me feel as comfortable as possible I can’t fully relax because I’m sort of in the way, therefore I don’t do anything constructive. Things I did to pass the time were go to the cinema twice: “Scott Pilgrim” and “The Other Guys” were both good, I especially enjoyed the latter due to the fact I think Mark Walberg is the coolest man in the world. I would happily bum him in exchange for some of his coolness, although I don’t think this is a proven ‘get cooler’ technique. I also took 2 hours to eat a sandwich at lunch at Leeds University, mainly because I was staring at everyone trying desperately hard to impress each other with clothes, new hairstyles and a variety of different sized earphones. The people with the biggest earphones think they’re the biggest legends but in actual fact they come across as the biggest bellends.
I stayed with Chris Quaile (nicknamed ‘The Egg’), who kindly let me crash for 3 days in Leeds but the fact I was in my sleeping bag meant I was massively uncomfortable. I understand the practicality of a sleeping bag but why does the bottom bit have to remain zipped tightly? Surely you should have the option of turning the bag into a cover? It’s so irksome trying to sleep in a cotton pharaohs tombstone, it’s like practicing for being buried alive. You may be thinking, why didn’t I just bring a duvet with me as there is plenty of room in my car? The answer is that I’m a moron but at least it’s given me something completely minor to complain about.
Now I’m back in the comfort of NW London, I can do something constructive like…well, check my emails 20 times. However, I can do it in the comfort of my own pants. I’m may be lonely but at least I’m comfortable.
Saturday, 25 September 2010
16th August- 24th September
Hey team. I’ve been away the last few weeks so have been slack at updating this little badboy. Rather than wrack my head trying to remember what happened on each specific week, I’ll give a quick precise of where I’ve been with a couple of highlights.
After a week long Edinburgh shaped bender I pretty much just watched the TV box set “Entourage” in a week. I cannot recommend it enough. It’s like “Sex and the City” for dudes: it’s funny, silly and always contains double barrelled fitties. The character Ari Gold (the agent) is one of the greatest characters in TV history.
I also went to Notting Hill Carnival. I’d never been before due to always being in Edinburgh for the whole of August. It was great. A full day of drinking and partying with friend in a bustling atmosphere is pretty much ideal to me. Although, I’d recommend bringing a pack lunch because paying £6 for a hamster sized portion of chicken, rice and peas unsettled the tight fisted pikey on my shoulder.
I’ve just got back from spending two weeks in Bali with my house mate Be. I feel so relaxed after a fortnight of getting a sun burnt belly and drinking small bottles of Bintang. Amusing things that happened were me getting chased by a Ladyboy on a moped at 5am after I’d gone on a solo mission for late night grub. The problem was I was wearing flip-flops so me running off made me look like ,what is known in the trade, as a bit of a cock-tease. My wooden duck Graham who I take to all countries went down a treat with the locals…all of them wanted to buy him off me. Wooden ducks must be sacred in Asia. Incidentally every souvenir shop I went into had shelves dedicated to massive wooden dongs. Why? In a souvenir shop? A place where you primarily buy gifts for your family, who’s ever thought, “My mum would love one of those …as she’s allergic to rubber”. I bought my mum 3.
It was a fun trip and has giving me new stuff to chat about on stage. I didn’t go diving or visit any temples. The most cultural thing we did was go to a water park and a swim up bar. Two key things you must do to prove you’re on holiday.
Laterz
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