Alright? I haven't done one of these for ages. Lots of me not being bothered has got in the way/trying to write an hour of funnies for Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I will not bore you with details; you can look on my website for them and get bored in your own time.
I will try to do one of these a week in the run up to August and then do them throughout the festival. I now need to sum up what I've been up to in the last 2 months. A lot of cool stuff has happened but the only thing that I can actually remember (because it happened 3 days ago) is that I went on a jet ski. This was not in London. It was whilst I was telling jokes in Cyprus. I've never been on one but decided that there is no way life can be boring if you go on a jet ski for 20 min every day. If your whole family get killed, my advice: rent a jet ski. That's it really for now. I got mine up to 84km/h I'm pretty sure that makes me James Bond. Can any of you pussies beat that? I doubt it.
So I hope you all heed this knowledge and rent a jet ski. I hope that this does not have to be done due to a horrific family accident. Probably don't rent one if your family are killed on one.
Toodles
Friday, 8 July 2011
Saturday, 14 May 2011
May 2nd-6th. Being Tired… A Lot
No matter how long you leave the country for it always takes you about a week to recover. I reckon you could fly to Paris for a night and you’d still feel like lethargic sack of bones for seven days afterwards. Post-Portugal I could barely walk around for 15 minutes without needing a little sit down. I also had to have a self-imposed alcohol break due to the fact it hurt my belly every time I swallowed. I’m no medical expert but this can’t be a good thing, I’d even say it’s probably a bad thing. I’m still yet to see the GP but knowing what GP’s are like they’ll say “have a Strepsil, it will go away in a few days time’.
This fatigue affected me in an amusing way. I had to go to a casting on the Wednesday morning, in which I could barely keep my eyes open. I was supposed to sound really enthusiastic about some stupid product but after 1 or 2 goes the casting lady had to say, “can you try doing that bit slightly less…ummm…umm” I jumped in “sarcastic?”, “yes please”. I did not do it any less sarcastic and I did not get the job.
I also got to do a TV warm up for an online football show called “Score Board”: check it on Facebook, it’s hosted by the very funny Dougie Anderson and better than looking at photos of your neighbours Bah Mitzvah. The best thing about it was that I got to meet Scott Minto and Jason Cundy, two names that always feature when me and my friend play the game of “texting each other 90s Premiership footballers”: if you need more explanation about the game, you’re and idiot. Being the silly idiot that I am, I asked them both who was the longest in the shower when they played football. They were miffed by this and said they’d never been asked this question. I was sceptical and after a bit of cajoling found out that Scott Minto’s nomination was Ruud Gullit , whilst Jason’s was himself. Make of that what you will. I’ll try to find out who had the baggiest sack next week.
This fatigue affected me in an amusing way. I had to go to a casting on the Wednesday morning, in which I could barely keep my eyes open. I was supposed to sound really enthusiastic about some stupid product but after 1 or 2 goes the casting lady had to say, “can you try doing that bit slightly less…ummm…umm” I jumped in “sarcastic?”, “yes please”. I did not do it any less sarcastic and I did not get the job.
I also got to do a TV warm up for an online football show called “Score Board”: check it on Facebook, it’s hosted by the very funny Dougie Anderson and better than looking at photos of your neighbours Bah Mitzvah. The best thing about it was that I got to meet Scott Minto and Jason Cundy, two names that always feature when me and my friend play the game of “texting each other 90s Premiership footballers”: if you need more explanation about the game, you’re and idiot. Being the silly idiot that I am, I asked them both who was the longest in the shower when they played football. They were miffed by this and said they’d never been asked this question. I was sceptical and after a bit of cajoling found out that Scott Minto’s nomination was Ruud Gullit , whilst Jason’s was himself. Make of that what you will. I’ll try to find out who had the baggiest sack next week.
Friday, 6 May 2011
April 25-29th: Royal Wedding hermits
The sun was out, which meant nothing got done all week. This was not for want of trying. Apparently the sun out and a royal wedding to watch meant no one wanted to leave their house all week and attend comedy events. I had every show cancelled due to low numbers. It seems the whole country needs 3 days to mentally prepare to watch the television. I was out of the country in Portugal for the wedding , however, it seems most of the nation weren’t preparing to watch a romantic unification of two loved-up individuals but instead they were gawping at Pippa Middleton’s rump. It never ceases to amaze me how almost anything in modern society can be brought down to a base pervy level. This brings me onto the Olympic ticket application.
I remembered to apply for mine on the last day and this event has only added to my pervy Britain theory. The Olympics is a once in a life time opportunity to watch athletes at the peak of their powers and what has every bloke I asked applied to watch: women’s beach volleyball. By every bloke, I include myself. I’m an idiot as is everyone else. With the amount of free pornography online why are we all splashing out hundreds of pounds to see women wearing items of clothing? The only thing worse than being a pervert is being a broke pervert. When July 2012 comes around there will be a stadium of idiots, watching clothed women keeping a ball in the air in East London, sodden because it will rain and no one will have any money left to buy an umbrella.
I’m going to go spend the rest of my overdraft on the final of the Wimbledon Women’s final.
I remembered to apply for mine on the last day and this event has only added to my pervy Britain theory. The Olympics is a once in a life time opportunity to watch athletes at the peak of their powers and what has every bloke I asked applied to watch: women’s beach volleyball. By every bloke, I include myself. I’m an idiot as is everyone else. With the amount of free pornography online why are we all splashing out hundreds of pounds to see women wearing items of clothing? The only thing worse than being a pervert is being a broke pervert. When July 2012 comes around there will be a stadium of idiots, watching clothed women keeping a ball in the air in East London, sodden because it will rain and no one will have any money left to buy an umbrella.
I’m going to go spend the rest of my overdraft on the final of the Wimbledon Women’s final.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
April 18-22: Colin Murray is usurped
I ended my last entry by saying I wanted to see another celebrity taking part in a sporting activity. This week, my dream almost came true: I saw Charlotte Jackson at the driving range. If you’re not entirely sure who I mean then I’ll try and help you join the dots. She’s that blonde presenter from Sky Sports news…that doesn’t really narrow it down…the blonde fit one…ok just Google her (she’ll probably be in your internet history). The only way this could have been topped is if she was shooting a pheasant.
The sun was out for the whole week, which means that no one in Britain gets anything done. Instead, women drape their bikini-clad bodies across patches of grass and groups of people decide it’s a good idea to drink alcohol in the ROAD so they can catch an extra 3 minutes of sun on skin. Everyone in London is happier/tipsy? This mini wave of heat gives some insight into what it’s like to live in a genuinely hot country. The insight being, that no one actually gets any work done. It’s also almost impossible to be funny. The weather being toilet makes everyone miserable which in turn makes for more things to joke about. Which explains why I’ve never met any Hawaiian comedians. Instead everyone in that country drinks pina coladas and makes shirts for unfunny tubby uncles to wear. I didn’t expect this blog to end with a bit of casual racism to Hawaiians but that’s what happened….deal with it.
I’m off to sun burn my nose.
The sun was out for the whole week, which means that no one in Britain gets anything done. Instead, women drape their bikini-clad bodies across patches of grass and groups of people decide it’s a good idea to drink alcohol in the ROAD so they can catch an extra 3 minutes of sun on skin. Everyone in London is happier/tipsy? This mini wave of heat gives some insight into what it’s like to live in a genuinely hot country. The insight being, that no one actually gets any work done. It’s also almost impossible to be funny. The weather being toilet makes everyone miserable which in turn makes for more things to joke about. Which explains why I’ve never met any Hawaiian comedians. Instead everyone in that country drinks pina coladas and makes shirts for unfunny tubby uncles to wear. I didn’t expect this blog to end with a bit of casual racism to Hawaiians but that’s what happened….deal with it.
I’m off to sun burn my nose.
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
4-8th April: Blog is back…and this time it’s golfier.
I’m back on the blog bus and the first stop is type-up town. I’ve been my usual mixture of lazy, distracted and a bit busy selling Renaults.
This week consisted of my new found love for golf. I’m going on a golf holiday at the end of the month, which I agreed to despite not liking golf or being able to play golf. It’s the equivalent of the Dali Lama going into the middle of Basra armed with a water pistol. The reason I agreed in the first place is because 15 friends were going and I didn’t want to be on my own. That illustrated the level of hatred I have for missing out on things and alone time: spending money on something I don’t like…idiot. I played the other day and was so toilet that I’ve shelled out for lessons. The prospect of playing 3 rounds of gold on foreign soil like an armless potato was harrowing, so I’ve thrown money at the situation. After one lesson, 2 trips to the range, 2 games of pitch and putt (1 on my own, yuk) and 9 holes with my friends, I can now hit a ball in the air.
That week I lived the life of a retired rich man, which is stupid, as I’m a working poor man.
Foooorrrrrrreeeeeeeee!
This week consisted of my new found love for golf. I’m going on a golf holiday at the end of the month, which I agreed to despite not liking golf or being able to play golf. It’s the equivalent of the Dali Lama going into the middle of Basra armed with a water pistol. The reason I agreed in the first place is because 15 friends were going and I didn’t want to be on my own. That illustrated the level of hatred I have for missing out on things and alone time: spending money on something I don’t like…idiot. I played the other day and was so toilet that I’ve shelled out for lessons. The prospect of playing 3 rounds of gold on foreign soil like an armless potato was harrowing, so I’ve thrown money at the situation. After one lesson, 2 trips to the range, 2 games of pitch and putt (1 on my own, yuk) and 9 holes with my friends, I can now hit a ball in the air.
That week I lived the life of a retired rich man, which is stupid, as I’m a working poor man.
Foooorrrrrrreeeeeeeee!
Friday, 11 March 2011
Feb 21st-25th: Having a Big Fat Dad Lunch
The one daytime activity that stuck out for me this week was going for lunch meeting with my dad and an accountant. You know you’re getting old when you’re A. going for a lunch and B. doing it with an accountant, however, you know you’re still a pikey student when your main motive for going is to get a free meal.
It was enjoyable, although a part of my brain is still very childish so often during an adult conversation I will drift off as soon as the phrase “income tax” or “mortgage” gets mentioned. I’ll instead start looking around the restaurant playing a game called “Guess who’s killed a man?” It’s pretty self-explanatory you just look around a room and decide who you think has murdered someone/has a person buried under their patio. Make sure you keep the results to yourself, no one wants to be told that information. That’s why I need someone to do my accounts for me, because I do not have the mental capacity to concentrate on a boring thing for more than 3 minutes.
The one thing that I noticed from having lunch with men who are middle aged is that they are over-grown children. During a two hour lunch at least half of the time was spent telling rude jokes to each other. It’s comforting to know, that no matter what you end up doing for a job and what age you get to you, mentally you remain a 12 year old in a playground. The other think that I didn’t realise more senior gents do is, rather than be polite, if someone tells a clanger of a gag they get rinsed. After one gag someone announced “don’t give up your day job!” So not only did I get a free meal, I also got a comforting look into the future.
It was enjoyable, although a part of my brain is still very childish so often during an adult conversation I will drift off as soon as the phrase “income tax” or “mortgage” gets mentioned. I’ll instead start looking around the restaurant playing a game called “Guess who’s killed a man?” It’s pretty self-explanatory you just look around a room and decide who you think has murdered someone/has a person buried under their patio. Make sure you keep the results to yourself, no one wants to be told that information. That’s why I need someone to do my accounts for me, because I do not have the mental capacity to concentrate on a boring thing for more than 3 minutes.
The one thing that I noticed from having lunch with men who are middle aged is that they are over-grown children. During a two hour lunch at least half of the time was spent telling rude jokes to each other. It’s comforting to know, that no matter what you end up doing for a job and what age you get to you, mentally you remain a 12 year old in a playground. The other think that I didn’t realise more senior gents do is, rather than be polite, if someone tells a clanger of a gag they get rinsed. After one gag someone announced “don’t give up your day job!” So not only did I get a free meal, I also got a comforting look into the future.
Sunday, 20 February 2011
24th Jan- 18th Feb: Better Late than never
Right I’m going to attempt to summarise the last month in one blog. The reason for my lack of writing is I’ve had ME….well not really but that would have been a pretty good excuse. In truth I’ve moved flats and spent most of my time on the phone to Sky trying to get broadband installed…I’d rather have ME.
I’ve actually spent a lot of time with human beings in the last month, which is great news although every waking minute alone is spent talking to Sky or getting our new landlord to make our house smell less of faeces. I don’t know if anyone else has had to deal with a landlord before but every time I send an email with a new gripe I’m certain he puts it into a folder marked “stuff I couldn’t give a toss about”. The funniest feature of the new abode is BJ’s room still smells of cigarettes a month after moving in as the previous resident evidently smoked like a 1950’s American private investigator. I say it still stinks but BJ is the only one who can still smell it: I’m convinced he drunkenly got a cigarette lodged in his nostril. The guy has become so obsessed that he’s been googling and reading up on ways of removing the scent. His latest brain wave is that leaving bowls of vinegar in his room helps remove the smell. To be fair as I already mentioned it doesn’t smell of smoke anymore, instead it wreaks of vinegar. Drunk people have started knocking on his door at 2am trying to buy chips. Surely the point of removing a smell is also to make the room smell nice not just replace it with an equally pungent odour. Do you know what else removes the smell of smoke and vinegar? Human piss. If someone could put this advice high enough on google then I’m sure we can get a lot of morons to make their room urine scented.
This gaff also has a sitting room on the ground floor and a kitchen 2 floors above. It’s amazing how little you can be bothered to cook when there are two flights of stairs to ascend. To be honest it’s amazing how you can’t even be bothered to eat food. If anyone wants to lose weight I suggest renting an upside down house. I can’t understand what kind of a chump would design a house that way. Was it some fitness fanatic who thought, “before I eat food I need to burn off the calories so why don’t I set up an assault course between the kitchen and dining room”? Plum.
I also live extremely close to a Bikram yoga studio and a spy shop. That means I can get really sweaty then follow someone with surveillance equipment, to really enhance the creepiness of a good old fashioned stalking. Don’t really know why I’d want to do that? I guess it’s better than abseiling from my kitchen on my own.
Right, I’ve not really told you about anything that’s happened in my life. I’ve just given a detailed description of my new home. This blog has essentially been a much crapper version of “Through the Keyhole”. I miss Lloyd Grossman.
I’ve actually spent a lot of time with human beings in the last month, which is great news although every waking minute alone is spent talking to Sky or getting our new landlord to make our house smell less of faeces. I don’t know if anyone else has had to deal with a landlord before but every time I send an email with a new gripe I’m certain he puts it into a folder marked “stuff I couldn’t give a toss about”. The funniest feature of the new abode is BJ’s room still smells of cigarettes a month after moving in as the previous resident evidently smoked like a 1950’s American private investigator. I say it still stinks but BJ is the only one who can still smell it: I’m convinced he drunkenly got a cigarette lodged in his nostril. The guy has become so obsessed that he’s been googling and reading up on ways of removing the scent. His latest brain wave is that leaving bowls of vinegar in his room helps remove the smell. To be fair as I already mentioned it doesn’t smell of smoke anymore, instead it wreaks of vinegar. Drunk people have started knocking on his door at 2am trying to buy chips. Surely the point of removing a smell is also to make the room smell nice not just replace it with an equally pungent odour. Do you know what else removes the smell of smoke and vinegar? Human piss. If someone could put this advice high enough on google then I’m sure we can get a lot of morons to make their room urine scented.
This gaff also has a sitting room on the ground floor and a kitchen 2 floors above. It’s amazing how little you can be bothered to cook when there are two flights of stairs to ascend. To be honest it’s amazing how you can’t even be bothered to eat food. If anyone wants to lose weight I suggest renting an upside down house. I can’t understand what kind of a chump would design a house that way. Was it some fitness fanatic who thought, “before I eat food I need to burn off the calories so why don’t I set up an assault course between the kitchen and dining room”? Plum.
I also live extremely close to a Bikram yoga studio and a spy shop. That means I can get really sweaty then follow someone with surveillance equipment, to really enhance the creepiness of a good old fashioned stalking. Don’t really know why I’d want to do that? I guess it’s better than abseiling from my kitchen on my own.
Right, I’ve not really told you about anything that’s happened in my life. I’ve just given a detailed description of my new home. This blog has essentially been a much crapper version of “Through the Keyhole”. I miss Lloyd Grossman.
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