I don't write enough blogs, it's because I generally find them even more boring to write than you find them to read. But it's 2am & I can't sleep for the second night in a row for no good reason.
So I'm pouring my thoughts out somewhere, like a bedpan in a gutter, in the hope my brain will seize up & stop spouting this loud & garbled, self-deprecating (yet often painfully truthful) nonsense in my echoing skull that always, always, builds to that predictable chaotic climax of some proposed, imaginary disagreement in my head. It's always with someone I know personally & I play it out repeatedly, going over every possible outcome. None of this has actually or is likely to happen, but succeeds in agitating & aggravating me enough to keep my body from relaxing to the appropriate level required to get to sleep.
Deadbeat Stand-Up Hero Doug Stanhope describes it quite succinctly & calls it The Carnival,
but quite frankly that's just too fun-loving a name for me.
Why the hell does this happen?
Maybe my brain being deprived of the R.E.M. sleep that is needed to empty the mass amounts of daily collected garbage from my head goes ahead with the process anyway, except I'm wide awake & it doesn't care. Holding me captive in my very own Ludovico technique, in an attempt to teach to me be less of an arsehole & more agreeable.
Who knows?
All I know is most of you sods are asleep & I hate you. Either that or you don't have to get up in the morning & it doesn't bloody matter to your upside-down lives.
Wake up!
Wake up, so I can go to sleep & can avoid another day of isolating brain mong in the workplace.
You selfish, peaceful bastards.
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
How Could They Let Him On Television?
It was decision wrongly taken in my opinion.
Now we must all deal with the consequences of the BBC's self-serving & ratings hungry move. In giving more publicity to such an odious, horrible & genuinely unnerving human being, we may have to stare into his souless eyes & bile dribbling mouth once more. The floodgates have been opened, the Dam busted.
We will have to continue watching the insipid Jack Whitehall.
Seen above here as a panel guest on Mock The Week it was actually Never Mind The Buzzcocks the little Sugar-Free Russell Brand Zero was guest presenting last night & rather badly.
I don't think I'll ever understand the appeal of this Top Shop designed, cardigan wrapped, over-privileged berk, but like internet ads that claim to have the simple trick to making your teeth whiter, all tapped from the brain of a simple everyday Mom, he's everywhere. Now even if I could I wouldn't want to deprive Jack of a career, but he should stay on T4 where he belongs, along with the endless repeats of Friends & shows which have mainly bright primary colours as if to attract the attention of infants. He can gurgle his unfunny career away there all he wants.
Oh yeah & some Nazi was on Question Time & came across all a bit Fascisty. I'm sure we all learned something there.
Gigs:
26/10/09 - Big Laughs At The Big House - Pavilion Bar - Belfast
05/11/09 - Masons - Derry
06/11/09 - Voicebox Comedy - Safehouse Arts Space - Belfast
20/11/09 - Molly Browns - Newtownards
03/12/09 - Undaground - Thomas Reads - Dublin - TBC
Thursday, 17 September 2009
You Don't Email Me No More
Yes, yes, yes, it's been a while.
Much has happened since I last emptied the contents of my silly little brain onto the screen in my customary inept & maladroit manner & much like expecting a dog to make sense of scrabble pieces dumped into the puddle from which it drinks, I beg your attention fruitlessly once more.
Swayze & Floyd dead, Kanye interrupts & Manchester City footballer Emmanuel Adebayor transforms from the pointless, lumbering, friendly Giraffe he resembled on Arsenal's frontline to an actual potent force. He also attempted to physically take out his former team mates & then after scoring celebrated in such an over the top & absurd fashion to make a point it became, for me, quite hilarious. Arsenal fans didn't think so & reacted in the customary, mature & dignified manner we all expect from football fans or a seething lynch mob. Perhaps Kanye should have interrupted that particular moment to tell him that this, was clearly the greatest goal celebration of all time.
Oh yeah & I did four gigs. All went spankingly well & one of the performances (although not my favourite) was recorded, so there is a possible treat for you to view sometime in the future when it gets edited into a chewable sized morsel.
In less enjoyable news, work colleague, friend & comedy whirlwind Enda Muldoon did not win the Bulmers Comedy Festival Award last night in Dublin, despite (based on good sources) causing the most chaos & generating the greatest number of laughs in the finals. I wasn't there myself as I was performing in Bangor while simultaneously quelling a spide riot, but I'm quite sure from experience that he probably more than deserved to win.
Much has happened since I last emptied the contents of my silly little brain onto the screen in my customary inept & maladroit manner & much like expecting a dog to make sense of scrabble pieces dumped into the puddle from which it drinks, I beg your attention fruitlessly once more.
Swayze & Floyd dead, Kanye interrupts & Manchester City footballer Emmanuel Adebayor transforms from the pointless, lumbering, friendly Giraffe he resembled on Arsenal's frontline to an actual potent force. He also attempted to physically take out his former team mates & then after scoring celebrated in such an over the top & absurd fashion to make a point it became, for me, quite hilarious. Arsenal fans didn't think so & reacted in the customary, mature & dignified manner we all expect from football fans or a seething lynch mob. Perhaps Kanye should have interrupted that particular moment to tell him that this, was clearly the greatest goal celebration of all time.
Oh yeah & I did four gigs. All went spankingly well & one of the performances (although not my favourite) was recorded, so there is a possible treat for you to view sometime in the future when it gets edited into a chewable sized morsel.
In less enjoyable news, work colleague, friend & comedy whirlwind Enda Muldoon did not win the Bulmers Comedy Festival Award last night in Dublin, despite (based on good sources) causing the most chaos & generating the greatest number of laughs in the finals. I wasn't there myself as I was performing in Bangor while simultaneously quelling a spide riot, but I'm quite sure from experience that he probably more than deserved to win.
Monday, 24 August 2009
End Of Days: Recession
It's over, it's finally over. Line the streets, copulate with strangers, shit out a window, punch a child in the face, our very own V Day is here at last. Celebrate. Dance motherfuckers, dance.
Confidence among business professionals has surged, suggesting the recession is at an end... - BBC
Just in time for Christmas too, what would we have done otherwise?
So the greatest scare of our age is already over before the year is out, which is odd as at the beginning of the year they had us exchanging our own dried faeces as a form of currency by this stage. A flawed system that wouldn't have changed things with the rich at the top, as only people who already had food would be able to produce the currency. But fear not, this nightmare shall never surface as everything is going to be better now for The Accountants have spoken & something to do with Cricket.
I'll never claim to understand the economy, or even the numbers on the screen in my Bank Account which claim to represent Gold, but it seems to me that most people I know were lucky enough not to be affected by the Recession in any serious manner. In fact I would imagine that most who were already above the Poverty Line in the World didn't feel that much of a pinch at all. Still don't relax as there is always Swine Flu to distract you from your hum-drum dire life & Madeline McCann's back in the paper. I've got money on the McCann's waking up & it all being a dream.
Gigs:
31/08/09 - Big Laughs, Pavilion, Belfast.
04/09/09 - Voicebox, The Safehouse, Belfast.
07/09/09 - Ostler's Arms, Omagh.
16/09/09 - Imperial Comedy, Imperial Bar, Bangor.
Confidence among business professionals has surged, suggesting the recession is at an end... - BBC
Just in time for Christmas too, what would we have done otherwise?
So the greatest scare of our age is already over before the year is out, which is odd as at the beginning of the year they had us exchanging our own dried faeces as a form of currency by this stage. A flawed system that wouldn't have changed things with the rich at the top, as only people who already had food would be able to produce the currency. But fear not, this nightmare shall never surface as everything is going to be better now for The Accountants have spoken & something to do with Cricket.
I'll never claim to understand the economy, or even the numbers on the screen in my Bank Account which claim to represent Gold, but it seems to me that most people I know were lucky enough not to be affected by the Recession in any serious manner. In fact I would imagine that most who were already above the Poverty Line in the World didn't feel that much of a pinch at all. Still don't relax as there is always Swine Flu to distract you from your hum-drum dire life & Madeline McCann's back in the paper. I've got money on the McCann's waking up & it all being a dream.
Gigs:
31/08/09 - Big Laughs, Pavilion, Belfast.
04/09/09 - Voicebox, The Safehouse, Belfast.
07/09/09 - Ostler's Arms, Omagh.
16/09/09 - Imperial Comedy, Imperial Bar, Bangor.
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
Self-induced Blogorrhea
Fellow comic Marcus Keeley inquired over a pint or two before his escapade to France wherein he will drink all of the wine, as to why I have failed to update my blog. It was because I had nothing of worth to say.
This got me thinking.
What would happen if I did sit down to write, knowing full well that I have nothing to say? Unedited, unchecked & unloved, the outpouring of my empty thoughts.
Fasten your eye-belts as here it is, a half-arsed update on the relentless chronicle that is my life, in all it's extraneous splendour.
First things first The Comedy Basement at McHughs gig (30/07) went well & of that I am glad. I was pretty determined to rock that one & look forward to the next & therein lies the problem. There are not a lot of gigs in Belfast & it looks increasingly that I will have to venture to the likes of Lurgan, Omagh & Derry to perform more regularly. I do have a date set for The Pavilon early September & I await to find out my exact dates for both The Empire & The Ha'penny Bridge in Dublin. Until than I must find a driver & introduce myself to the hairy west of Northern Ireland.
Viene la tormenta.
I've also just returned from a rather satisfying to the senses trip in The Lake District. The one blip in these rather charming surroundings being the discovery of the rather sickeningly sweet, vile & unavoidably ubiquitous Kendal Mint Cake. It looks & tastes like the freeze dried bukkake love outpourings of Willy Wonka, Mr Soft & a giant anthromorphized Tic Tac.
Avoid.
This got me thinking.
What would happen if I did sit down to write, knowing full well that I have nothing to say? Unedited, unchecked & unloved, the outpouring of my empty thoughts.
Fasten your eye-belts as here it is, a half-arsed update on the relentless chronicle that is my life, in all it's extraneous splendour.
First things first The Comedy Basement at McHughs gig (30/07) went well & of that I am glad. I was pretty determined to rock that one & look forward to the next & therein lies the problem. There are not a lot of gigs in Belfast & it looks increasingly that I will have to venture to the likes of Lurgan, Omagh & Derry to perform more regularly. I do have a date set for The Pavilon early September & I await to find out my exact dates for both The Empire & The Ha'penny Bridge in Dublin. Until than I must find a driver & introduce myself to the hairy west of Northern Ireland.
Viene la tormenta.
I've also just returned from a rather satisfying to the senses trip in The Lake District. The one blip in these rather charming surroundings being the discovery of the rather sickeningly sweet, vile & unavoidably ubiquitous Kendal Mint Cake. It looks & tastes like the freeze dried bukkake love outpourings of Willy Wonka, Mr Soft & a giant anthromorphized Tic Tac.
Avoid.
Saturday, 25 July 2009
Social Network Utility Friendship Deadlock
So I'm currently having several Facebook Standoffs with various individuals who are appearing suggestively in the top right hand corner of my Home screen.
What is being suggested, through no apparent driving need of their own, is that I add them as a friend. To welcome them into the bosom of my self-important, status updating, cry for help, little child Mummy skirt tugging for attention cyber-life. The Church of ourselves, a one-sided, slanted account of the daily bread of my life.
Yeah, and I get to share in theirs too.
Now I'm pretty sure there is a way to turn this off I haven't bothered looking for, but it's also intriguing to see who pops up now & again. Most of these names & faces prompted for impending friendship I don't even recognise, but I still have to check to make sure if I'm meant to, as I regularly walk past people in actual real life that I know or am supposed to know, but because I'm too involved in my own tangled farce of a daily thought process I mumble my way by them. But there are the faces I do recognise & whether it's through some previous social faux pas or that I feel I don't actually know them well enough that they end up not being added.
That leaves the remaining few where I think, "well, if they add me I guess I'll accept them but I won't add them", acting like some asshole Cyber-King who only allows subjects into his Court when they have approached in act of entreatment & gone through the correct formal protocol. It is with these faces that I watch the number of our mutual friends rise as our (more than likely one-sided & mistaken) impasse remains.
I wonder what would happen if I saw them in the real world? Or maybe I wouldn't notice them at all because they're not being unwittingly advertised in the top right hand corner of my field of vision & because I don't really actually know them that well yet, or perhaps anymore.
Lifes little acquaintances that are meant to remain that way, as I mumble my way past them, oblivious & drowned in thoughts of...
...why do artists who won't let their music be used for advertising let it be used for promos for television or film? Those products can be just as shoddy, corporate & self-serving? Why aren't they considered sell-outs? What do I know? What is a sell-out anyway? Cheese is nice. What's Sub of the day today? I need to exercise more. I'm 31 years old & should stop playing video games & learn to drive. Do I need a car? I hate this song. Why do I have so many tunes on my iPod? It's retarded. Tim Burton really needs to start working with different people. I should really shave my head. I'm going to be late...
JULY 30TH - The Comedy Basement at McHughs Returns. Show: 8.30pm. £4.00
I & others such as Liam Watson, Matthew Collins, Peter Maxwell & Peter McCaughan shall be performing.
Come.
What is being suggested, through no apparent driving need of their own, is that I add them as a friend. To welcome them into the bosom of my self-important, status updating, cry for help, little child Mummy skirt tugging for attention cyber-life. The Church of ourselves, a one-sided, slanted account of the daily bread of my life.
Yeah, and I get to share in theirs too.
Now I'm pretty sure there is a way to turn this off I haven't bothered looking for, but it's also intriguing to see who pops up now & again. Most of these names & faces prompted for impending friendship I don't even recognise, but I still have to check to make sure if I'm meant to, as I regularly walk past people in actual real life that I know or am supposed to know, but because I'm too involved in my own tangled farce of a daily thought process I mumble my way by them. But there are the faces I do recognise & whether it's through some previous social faux pas or that I feel I don't actually know them well enough that they end up not being added.
That leaves the remaining few where I think, "well, if they add me I guess I'll accept them but I won't add them", acting like some asshole Cyber-King who only allows subjects into his Court when they have approached in act of entreatment & gone through the correct formal protocol. It is with these faces that I watch the number of our mutual friends rise as our (more than likely one-sided & mistaken) impasse remains.
I wonder what would happen if I saw them in the real world? Or maybe I wouldn't notice them at all because they're not being unwittingly advertised in the top right hand corner of my field of vision & because I don't really actually know them that well yet, or perhaps anymore.
Lifes little acquaintances that are meant to remain that way, as I mumble my way past them, oblivious & drowned in thoughts of...
...why do artists who won't let their music be used for advertising let it be used for promos for television or film? Those products can be just as shoddy, corporate & self-serving? Why aren't they considered sell-outs? What do I know? What is a sell-out anyway? Cheese is nice. What's Sub of the day today? I need to exercise more. I'm 31 years old & should stop playing video games & learn to drive. Do I need a car? I hate this song. Why do I have so many tunes on my iPod? It's retarded. Tim Burton really needs to start working with different people. I should really shave my head. I'm going to be late...
JULY 30TH - The Comedy Basement at McHughs Returns. Show: 8.30pm. £4.00
I & others such as Liam Watson, Matthew Collins, Peter Maxwell & Peter McCaughan shall be performing.
Come.
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
The Night I Died A Thousand Deaths... On My Arse.
Sheesh.
So what can I say? The Pavilion gig, it did not go well. There was a strange air to the night & far from me to elaborate on what were the possible ulterior motives behind at least part of the reason for that. Let's just say the impending TV reality show Find Me The Funny could well be fast becoming one of the worst things to happen to the comedy scene. But that's just opinion & I most sincerely wish certain people all the very best with that particular project, you guys & girls know who you are.
Typically I'm far more annoyed with myself for what was a less than controlled display. The fact is I should've handled the obstacles better, instead of marching on stage with a chip on my shoulder about a crowd that could not be said to be in the spirit of things.
I started badly & swiftly losing the audience with maladroit ease, proceeded to give up & go on autopilot giving a massive shrug of a performance with only the finish line in mind.
It's never as bad as you think it is, so they say.
Well, this felt like a Hiroshima H-bomb of failure & embarrassment. The whistling of its descent as eerie as the silence punctuating the gags, lets just hope the residual radiation from it all doesn't make anyone seriously ill in the coming days.
Once again lessons learned & I'm sure I will cope a lot better, next time. No small thanks to the solid gold advice & support from Matthew Collins, Scott Calonico & Stacy Mead. Thanks guys.
Well done to Shane Todd & Morgan Hearst for powering through & George Quinn doing everything he could to inject frivolity into proceedings. Further pats on backs to Marcus Keeley, Liam Watson & Adam Laughlin for actually squeezing a few laughs out of the evening & of course to Colin Murphy who with his surprise headline slot really spoiled us, putting on as expected a proper pro's performance.
Nice work chaps, nice work.
So what can I say? The Pavilion gig, it did not go well. There was a strange air to the night & far from me to elaborate on what were the possible ulterior motives behind at least part of the reason for that. Let's just say the impending TV reality show Find Me The Funny could well be fast becoming one of the worst things to happen to the comedy scene. But that's just opinion & I most sincerely wish certain people all the very best with that particular project, you guys & girls know who you are.
Typically I'm far more annoyed with myself for what was a less than controlled display. The fact is I should've handled the obstacles better, instead of marching on stage with a chip on my shoulder about a crowd that could not be said to be in the spirit of things.
I started badly & swiftly losing the audience with maladroit ease, proceeded to give up & go on autopilot giving a massive shrug of a performance with only the finish line in mind.
It's never as bad as you think it is, so they say.
Well, this felt like a Hiroshima H-bomb of failure & embarrassment. The whistling of its descent as eerie as the silence punctuating the gags, lets just hope the residual radiation from it all doesn't make anyone seriously ill in the coming days.
Once again lessons learned & I'm sure I will cope a lot better, next time. No small thanks to the solid gold advice & support from Matthew Collins, Scott Calonico & Stacy Mead. Thanks guys.
Well done to Shane Todd & Morgan Hearst for powering through & George Quinn doing everything he could to inject frivolity into proceedings. Further pats on backs to Marcus Keeley, Liam Watson & Adam Laughlin for actually squeezing a few laughs out of the evening & of course to Colin Murphy who with his surprise headline slot really spoiled us, putting on as expected a proper pro's performance.
Nice work chaps, nice work.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
