Am I some kind of comedian?

Lovely gig, lovely night.

2007-01-31T01:06:00.000-08:00

It was our weekly long live comedy gig last night (dog and parrot, 8:30 every tuesday, only £2, tell your friends), which was great. The room was packed, the acts were of the highest quality, and the general banter was of brilliant.

I performed the 'my reality tv experience' blogs, and realised the difference between performing and writing. The stage version needs to be a lot shorter, snappier, and with more gags. That said, I was talking to John Scott afterwards, and he was saying about how he has stopped chasing the laughs. If you are confident in the material, the laughs will come, just be interesting. That worked to a certain extent, the funnies were in the story, it was just a case of being patient, and remaining interesting.

The rest of the night went very well. The competition was the funniest one we have had since we did twisted sayings:

Don't judge a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes. If you still don't like him, you're a mile away, and you've got his shoes.

This week was new ideas for reality TV shows. I can't remember which was the winner, but my favourites were:

Who wants to be a Milliner
Charver Safari - South African hunters drive through Benwell shooting anyone in a tracksuit.

Highlight of the night for me again was Donnachda. That boy is so good. He performs with real style, and crafts material in a way that Woody Allen would be proud of. Maybe even a little jealous.

After the show, I was talking to a lovely lady who I haven't seen for a while, and I wanted to be really forward, and kiss her goodbye. Sadly the room was boiling hot, and I had a dead sweaty face. This was not the image I wanted to portray, so we did a funny little wave goodbye. I should have had faith and dived in anyway.

I was wearing an England rugby shirt, and got accosted later in town by various celts wishing my team no luck at all. This was all very friendly and very much reciprocal - can't wait for the 6 nations to start on Saturday, even though I will have to listen on the radio because I will be en-route to Edinburgh.

When we dropped some stuff off at Callum's house, he decided to show off his new shelves. The shelves to end all shelves. It filled the wall of his front room, and was like a load of pigeon holes. I put my shoes in one of the gaps and asked him for some size 12 bowling shoes.

Pete said it was time to quit being a postman if he has got to the point where he is installing his own sorting office at home. You're addicted to it!

Todays words of wisdom. If you are really proud of something, don't show it to a comedian, their response is always to take the mickey. We are bad people.

Latent anger and fun in ed.

2007-01-30T02:35:00.000-08:00

I think I love Edinburgh. Not just is it a beautiful city, with surprisingly placid bouncers (one day I will tell the tale of my stag night), but the Stand comedy club is the nicest club I have ever been to.

The audience last night was almost like canned laughter - every time I reached a punchline, they responded with warmth. Everytime I tried to extend a joke with a daft facial expression, they responded with warmth. I did a 30 second mime on the spur of the moment, they responded with warmth.

Its not all about them though, I was quite pleased with my performance as well. This was the first time I have ever worked with no notes written on the back of my hand. This was the first time that the nerves have been so bad that my stomach hurt.

Carl Hutchinson taught me that. When we went to Manchester, I was arrogant, didn't prepare, and got what I deserved. He barely slept all weekend because he was practising. I got lazy. That must change.

I spend a lot of time doing small gigs in pub rooms that are just hard work. It is a joy to get the chance to do great clubs from time to time. This was my first proper gig of the year, and long may this level of fun continue.

And it has gone some way to relaxing the latent anger I have had in me since Thursday. I have tried to laugh it off. I have tried to ignore it. I have tried to confront it. I don't know what it is, to be honest. I have this overwhelming feeling that people are taking advantage of me.

I have no evidence or reason to think this, but it is really getting to me. Simply because I have no idea what's causing it. Its like a brain version of stomach cramps. I think I need to get back into rugby to vent some latent aggression.

There are only so many hobbies you can fit in.

My reality TV experience. Pt 3.

2007-01-29T01:53:00.000-08:00

So we have stolen wine from the gaoler. We are kings in the eyes of the pretty girl, and in our own minds too. We have broken all the bottle opening devices obtaining the wine, in an act of sheer irony. But we we've all been students, so it was a simple matter of pushing the cork into the bottle using a wooden spoon. On top of the world.

"this is big brother, could alan please come to the diary room"

I wandered in, flushed with pride and good humour. We had named the various voices of big brother. I think this one was Karen, but it was a while ago, and I struggle to remember. They didn't seem to like being named, but also didn't order us not to do it. There was a fluffy mic above the jacuzzi called Colin.

Big brother demanded that I bring the bottles to the diary room. I very sadly, dejectedly, went out into the house, and apologised to my cellmates, and explained that the bottles had to go. So we decanted the contents into glasses, and I took the bottles to the diary room.

Big brother, now in somewhat impatient tones, explained, that wasn't exactly what she meant. There was a short discussion on semantics that big brother did not seem impressed with, and my tone at this stage had drifted into condascension.

I was sent to retrieve the contents of the bottles. Very little of it remained, but I did take some wine and a beer, and drank them. I then returned to the diary room and explained that I had what remained of the booze, but if big brother wanted it, big brother may have to wait for a while. It'll come back, just in a slightly different form.

I'll be honest, my memory fails at this point. More due to my final trick of the night than the fact that it was a couple of years ago.

We had an unpleasant last day, Maxwell was dutifully binned out of the house in a mock eviction. We all promised to stay in touch, and then left, comfortable in the knowledge that we wouldn't. I did talk to Tom a couple of times after the show. Most notably that summer, when we exchanged 'you'll never guess which arsehole got in the house' texts.

I didn't find out about the newspaper article until I got back to work after christmas. My boss was one of the few people I was allowed to tell about where I was going. He saved the Sun for me. I was the last paragraph in their big brother preview.

Given that I did get naked, I did nearly have a fight, and I did break the bracket on the fridge lock, I did pour water all over the seat which didn't smell the same again, I suppose I could have expected comment. But for those small things to be reported as a 'drunken naked rampage', I consider over-egging the pudding somewhat.

And that, dear reader, was my reality TV experience.

My reality TV experience..pt 2.

2007-01-28T01:30:00.000-08:00

So I'm essentially locked in a cell, with 7 strangers. One of them is a cockney bully who I can't stand, but everyone else likes. The cell is designed to make you uncomfortable. It smells a bit funny. The sauna doesn't work. There is a locked fridge, with a clear front, full of booze.

Sorry? Say that again.

There is a fridge. In full view. Under the counter. Full of booze. Its locked. We've been staring at this damn thing for 3 days. Its our last night in there. About 2am. We ran out of booze an hour ago. Its too much to take.

Most of my cellmates are in bed. The only ones still awake are me, Tom the young lad I got on well with, and Jody (sorry, Jode) the hot 'marketing' girl. Tom and I set to on the fridge. The lock consisted of a clasp with a padlock on it. We decided its not too hard to crack.

About 5 spoons fell to the mighty padlock and clasp. We wrecked the bottle opener too. A sharp knife was shattered. Not one of the rudimentary tools (or cutlery) that were available was doing the trick. We began to bemoan our increasingly desperate lack of basic metal working tools.

I think most of the Big Brother scary manager types were in bed, because it was a good hour before the announcements started. Eventually, the chastising began.

'Housemates are reminded not to intentionally damage anything in the house'
'Housemates are reminded that they are liable for any damage they cause on purpose'

Eventually it got a little pathetic.

'Would housemates please stop damaging the fridge.'

To be honest, we were still a little drunk from the booze we had been drinking prior to this, and the announcements were ignored. Jode became dismissive about our mission. Other housemates woke, wandered in, and criticised our feeble efforts to wring the last drop of booze out of the house. "Ignore them, they are idiots" I heard one say. Tom and I continued in our task unabated.

Then, a moment of clarity. Sod the padlock and its clasp, just pull the bracket off. Brilliant. We would have unscrewed it, but all of the knives had been abused in our desperation, and none of them could be used as a servicable screwdriver. Brute force and ignorance took over. Using what cutlery was still reasonably un-mangled, I pulled the bracket off the side of the fridge. It took me about 15 minutes. The door had the padlock and clasp still on, but they were unattached to anything. I AM A GENIUS. It only took us 2 hours to get in.

Suddenly, Tom and I are no longer idiots. Suddenly we are Very Nice People with Lots Of Initiative. Suddenly Jode thinks we are cool again.

Not being the types to bear grudges, especially (if I'm honest) with beautiful ladies, we allowed her to have some of our dirty booty. By which I mean the stolen booze, not the American slang 'booty'. That would have been a little forward.

A nice glass of wine? Excellent. Where's the cork screw? I think you destroyed it.

Bugger.

My reality TV experience..pt 1.

2007-01-27T00:45:00.000-08:00

Apologies, this could be long.

A few years ago, I applied to go on Big Brother. It appealed to the idiot in me, spend a summer sat in a house, becoming famous in a way that will render me forgotten by Christmas. Fame, but fame light. I liked the idea, so i went for it. I am quite entertaining really, so I thought I had a chance.

I didn't get in.

A few months before christmas that year, I got a call from a girl called Hannah, from Endemol. She asked if I wanted to go into the house for 3 days, so they could do a dress rehersal prior to Celebrity Big Brother. Apparently it was for the crew - to make sure all the cameras were working, try out challenges, that kind of thing. I snapped her proverbial hand off.

I actually thought it was some kind of elaborate hoax up until the moment I stepped into the house, but it was real. One other guy was there, I was second in. People began to arrive, and to my eternal discredit, I now struggle to remember their names. I did see some of them pop up elsewhere though. Some I remember.

There was a big boobed girl from Leeds who appeared on 'Beauty and the Geek'. Her dream in life was to be in Heat magazine.

There was an absolute imbecile from Scotland called Cheryl, who later appeared in a show where they convinced people they were being trained to go into space.

There was a girl called Jody who told me she worked in marketing. When pressed for details she told me that she goes to shows for 'Max Power' magazine and things like that, and stands near the cars wearing a bikini.

And, there was a boy called Maxwell. The following summer he was in the normal Big Brother show.

It is fair to say that Maxwell and I did not get on. I remember watching him go around the group, and pick at them, take the piss, to see which of us were easy to bully and which weren't. I knew exactly what he was, but he was distinctly unsure about me. In that kind of situation, I can become very passive. Loud and excitable, but I don't take charge unless I am comfortable in a situation. He took this as a weakness, and tried to pick on me. It didn't last long.

To be fair to him, he was a very quick witted guy, and very funny. Sadly he was completely unable to be funny unless it was at someone else's expense. Using the give-them-enough-rope principle, I made him look a bit daft on a couple of occasions, and he eased off on me. The other reason he let up on me was that Cheryl was rapidly becoming the oddball of the group.

He picked on her relentlessly. He made her life hell, and made himself look great in the eyes of the pretty but dim girls that were there. I didn't like Cheryl, she was selfish and boring, but she didn't deserve that kind of treatment. I would give back to Maxwell what he was dishing out to her, as retaliation. What I couldn't handle, was the amount to which the other housemates were lapping his bullying up as if he was some kind of comedy genius.

I got angrier, and angrier, and angrier.

When you are in that house, you start to realise little things. At a certain time of night, or if there was alcohol involved, angled halogen spotlights would come on. You wouldn't really notice them, but there was always a strong light in the corner of your eye. Just enough to niggle you. Also none of the angles were regular, so your perception of the room is slightly skewed. There are probably many more of these little tricks that play with the mind. This was all putting me on edge.

One night, a lot of booze was taken. For some reason, Maxwell threw a glass of water in my face. Funny eh? Being me, I waited an hour, then filled a bucket, and drenched him. He made wild claims about ludicrously expensive shoes being ruined. He took offence to my reaction to his burberry coat (my god he's a walking cliche I shouted). He began a face off. Thrusting his chest at me, walking into me, acutely aware of cameras everywhere, and wanting to instigate a fight without throwing the first punch.

I pushed him. He was dragged away by someone. I was very angry, and felt I had to defuse somehow. I removed all my clothes, hid a change of clothes in the sauna, and sat in the jacuzzi breathing deeply. I calmed down. I watched him take my suitcase and put it in the shower, and switched the shower on. I remained calm.

Now, why it occurred to me that nakedness was the answer to this problem, I do not know. It did work though. You can't argue with results.

I later went, naked, and talked to Maxwell, that we should shake hands and forget the incident. He was frightened by the 21 stone naked man suggesting truce. In my effort to remain calm, I was talking like a complete idiot. If I ever do see the footage, that particular sequence will make me cringe uncontrollably.

The events described above are not what was reported in the newspapers as a 'rampage'. That comes tomorrow.

What do I miss?

2007-01-26T07:40:00.000-08:00

My thoughts have been with my ex-wife a lot this week, and I don't know why. I lost my keys the other day, and I had been keeping my wedding ring on the keyring. Probably a stupid thing to do, but I wasn't ready to lose it just yet. That may well have triggered a thought process.

So I didn't feel ready, but bad luck, it happened anyway. Deal with it.

Its not that I am feeling the sense of loss that I did. I certainly don't miss the drain on my bank account, the controlling of my personality, the constant complaints of how rude I am all the time.*

I do miss the little things still. I don't think I miss Nicola, I think I miss having a wife. I'll not lie, I miss the sex, as infrequent as it was at the end. I miss a lot more though, the warm body in the morning, the smell of someone cooking when you walk in the house. A quick snog on the way to the study. Being able to snake an arm around the waist of your loved one as you stand chatting to a friend.

But, this is all balanced against the fact that I can see my radiators - they don't have an array of wrinkled little pants all over them. And I can eat takeaway food if I want. Which strangely enough means I don't very much. And I can talk to That Girl With The Big Boobs, and it doesn't become an international incident (and what is it about you and blondes anyway? I thought you said you liked brunettes?). I don't have to explain where I have been. I can eat out of date food. That has been in the fridge for a week. And has mould on it. And I can say to Cheryl that she's wearing rather a lot of mascara. And I can raise my voice. And I can get home late - or not at all. And I can take up new hobbies without having to talk about money.

I don't miss a lot of what it was to be married. It is often just hassle, and it is hassle you are prepared to go through for that one person because you think they are special. And the little moments make up for all the rubbish. I think I miss those little moments. It's just not the same with girls you don't know so well. Not as frequent either.

*That last one is apparently one of my endearing traits! No one is upset at me putting my foot in my mouth, because I do it with such regularity, to everyone.

As Geordies say, sick as a chip

2007-01-26T07:39:00.000-08:00

I never understood how sick a chip can get, but that's regional slang for you really.

I thought I had worked out the women thing, but it continues to cause me confusion, I have no car again, I have to work all weekend, and I am skint.

I am considering watching more reality television, but I'm afraid my brain will leak out of my ears.
I really want to like the reality telly, because everyone always bitches about it so much, and I don't like riding on the wave of public opinion, I prefer to be sucked into the rip tide of controversy. So at the moment I am...um...treading water in a bowl of soup. Metaphor THAT Joyce.

I watched a bit of "celebrities do dancing, but on ice" the other day, but it was all a bit too camp for me. I may try watching "Celebrities who can't sing, do singing with someone who can" but it might have finished. And there is always "Celebrity prison - the racial slur over-reaction edition". I am hoping that is still watchable.

I was in "celebrity prison" once (as a dress rehearsal thing, not on the telly), I got naked, and was reported in a newspaper as having gone 'on a rampage'. Sadly I lost my clipping from the sun newspaper, because I was rather proud of that. The sight of a rampaging naked hairy 21 stone (it was a few years ago) man must have been pretty special. I hope one day the DVD they promised me makes an appearance.

Skills we don't know we have. Weds 24th Jan

2007-01-23T22:15:00.000-08:00

It is early, and I am at work. I got a call from the security company that looks after the factory I work in. Long story short, massive steam leak, fire alarms, I live nearest.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, to work at 5 I go.

So I will whine and moan for the rest of the day, and leave early, having done no more than I normally do, just on a slightly earlier shift. I don't mind really, it just could have been some other day - I was out until 1:30am last night discussing comedy and stuff. Thank god I didn't meet anyone this week, it could have been disastrous.

Last night at long live comedy, we had a performance from a young lad. His nerve just went, some of his material fell to pieces, and he felt a familiar pain to me. Being southern, he felt hostility from the northern crowd, and he exacerbated it by drawing attention to it. He began to die on stage, which is a common thing amongst comedians, so he'd better get used to it.

It was - if such a thing is possible - the funniest death I have ever seen. He realised he was getting nowhere, and just launched on a tirade about just how crap everything is. As Pete later commented, he turned around his performance through the gift of spectacular self-loathing.
He had absolutely no idea how good he was. He was upset, and some very raw emotion bubbled to the surface. As we are all increasingly finding, the more natural and personal the material, the funnier you will come across. We humans want to know about the person talking to us.

I hope Sean looks back on it as a learning experience. I hope we saw the birth of something. I hope I can learn myself from this young lad performing only his second gig, and inadvertantly finding something special.

We all have it in us, that little spark of magic. We are all latent magicians. I am hoping to pull that particular rabbit out of the hat this year. I will find my little spark, and I look forwards to putting on a show with it.

Finlay Samuel Major

2007-01-23T22:14:00.000-08:00

...is the name of my nephew.

At some point I will get some pictures, and put them on here. Knowing people in general, the girls will mostly say aaah, and the boys will mostly say 'um, looks healthy enough.'

I for one am over the moon. It is a new departure for me. I remember holding my newborn brother at the age of 9 and thinking it was kind of cool. I held my ex-niece and ex-nephew a couple of years ago and felt mildly protective, but this was different.

This was my sister's child, and the feelings it stirred in me were new. It wasn't just a need to defend, and it wasn't just a happiness for my sister's joy. This was new.

It must be one of the myriad facets of love. The greeks had all manner of words for love, to describe the different types. Well done them. Sadly I am left lacking.

I sat for 7 hours on Sunday, with my nephew sleeping, sitting, shitting, spitting and sipping on my knee, chest, shoulder and anywhere else he fancied being. It was joyous. I make no apologies for just how happy he made me feel.

I will visit home much more than twice a year from now on.

The great outdoors - Thurs 18th Jan

2007-01-23T22:13:00.000-08:00

Next weeks Long Live Comedy has the theme of 'The Great Outdoors'. We started putting themes on the night so that we had a spur to make us write new material. It is entirely optional, but one of my recent objectives (insomuch as I don't like using terms like 'New Year's resolution') is to write at least something funny related to the weekly theme.

The problem with this theme, is that it has made me feel all thoughtful, but not exactly funny.
I love the outdoors, but it occurred to me that I'm not such a fan of the 'Great' outdoors. Standing on top of the world staring/ down on creation, is not really my bag.

I used to walk the dog a lot when I was living with my parents (though not as much as I should, yadda-yadda-yadda), and I used to really enjoy the peace. There was a field near my house which was quite hard to get to, you had to pick your way down an overgrown path, and cross a stream on a plank of wood, and there was this small field. The grass was not short, because even the sheep had trouble finding it, and it was hemmed in on all sides by trees. And it was so quiet. I used to take a notebook, and the dog, and just lie in the field writing. I loved it. At the time, for me, it was perfection.

There was another spot, in the other direction from my house, where the field was on a bit of a slope. For a few weeks of the year I could walk the dog in the morning before school, and sit there for a while watching the sunrise.

I remember staring at rockpools for hours when we were on holiday. Like little worlds of their own, with their own vegetation and animal life. They were amazing. As a child you would imagine the same thing happening above you, some great giant staring down at your little world and marveling at it. And above him, another, and another ad infinitum.

I had a thing about leaves for a while as well. Just to pick a leaf from a tree and stare at all the veins in it, or try to take the green leaf apart so you are left with a fragile skeleton of leaf veins.

The 'great outdoors' doesn't really float my boat, it makes me dizzy. I like the lesser outdoors. Its the less and the more for me.

Note to self... Weds 17th Jan

2007-01-23T22:12:00.000-08:00

...it's not worth risking no sleep for 36 hours inclusive of organising a comedy show, two shifts at work, and 3 hours in a student union unless you are CERTAIN you are going to get somewhere to sleep.

Since I have no keys, I had to take the gamble on going to a club, that I would have somewhere to stay last night. There was no way I was going to get in the house by banging on the door at 3:30am. Given my recent antics, that would be tantamount to signing my own eviction order.

So I gambled, and I did have a sofa to sleep on. It was a sofa mind, in a room full of other people, and I got the uncomfortable outside bit. I have decided to ease off on this one, it may be a tease.

She did - as the kooks song goes - come to my show just to hear about my day. Which I was flattered by. So flattered that I took leave of my senses, and now am at work in no fit state to go near the heavy machinery.

A sense of enormous wellbeing - Tues 16th Jan

2007-01-23T22:07:00.000-08:00

It is distinctly unlike me. I normally contract healthy cases of the fear. I've spent weeks on end feeling like I need to look over my shoulder. But today I feel great.

Due to some drunken antics, and a fairly obnoxious stain on the stairs carpet, my flatmates are clearly upset with me. Over the weekend I lost my glasses, my car keys, my house keys, my jacket, got two very big scratches on my back and leg, ruined a pair of shoes and a nice shirt. And as previously mentioned, upset the flatmates. At least they are still talking to me - its not like they sent me to Coventry or anything.

I don't know why being given the silent treatment is called being sent to Coventry. I've been to Coventry, and I much prefer sitting in a quiet house in Newcastle to ever going back there.

But I digress. Normally this kind of return from a weekend will give me that overwhelming feeling of dispair, but its not there for some reason. Obviously the good return from Friday night and its attendant revelation were positives, and the drinking at the rugby club was fun (albeit destructive).
It has to be endorphin related, that's all I can think of. There must be some chemical imbalance going on that is currently on an upward stroke.

Maybe I have accidentally taken happy pills? Has someone been grinding them into my booze? I know that one flatmate tried to spike me with the contraceptive pill the other week - not sure what they were hoping for. Except maybe my boobs getting bigger again?

It turns out, its not that hard

2007-01-23T22:06:00.000-08:00

You just take a deep breath, back yourself, and go for it.

I don't remember ever having the confidence to just go for it before, but the other day I just went for it. It turns out there's no secret to it. A girl isn't going to jump on you, so you have to jump on her. Simple.

This is also where the fine line between 'nice guy, he's a good friend' and 'yeah, I'd sleep with him' lies.

I'm actually annoyed with myself that it took me this long to work it out. It's easy really.

Pastures new, or go over old ground?

2007-01-12T01:17:00.000-08:00

Change, it is good, it is scary, it is inevitable.

Yesterday, my boss announced he is emigrating to Portugal to become a property developer. It is a dream realised, and I applaud him for having the brass balls to do it. Pats on the back, it will be amazing, and it is one hell of a risk, but a great move for a genuinely talented bloke.

This does mean that we minions that work for him are landing slap bang in a 'better the devil you know' situation. There is talk of 'restructure', which is just a euphamism for people losing their jobs. Not good. Time to dust off that CV.

The thing is, I hate my job, as I have been saying for a while. I got the job because it paid well (compared to other options at the time), I could do it, and I was under the impression I was going to have a family to support. I kept the job, because I really get on very well with my boss. I have a lot of respect for him, and we have a real laugh.

I also haven't left since I found out I wasn't going to get a family to support, because it would have been foolish. It would have been too much change in too short a timescale.

I have been thinking for a while that I would leave the company this year, and this is something of a catalyst to get me moving.

For too long, I have been doing things because they need doing. For too long I am doing things that I think I should be doing. I have absolutely no idea any more what I actually want. I genuinely don't know. I have tried to find myself, but I just found other things that needed doing, or seemed like they should get done, and I did them.

Stop. Step back. If not you, there will be someone, if not now, it really can wait. The world still spins when you go to sleep. The works are done. You are significant, but you're not irreplaceable.

If anyone knows how to tap the brain to tell you what it wants, let me know.

"I don't know what I want?" I sound like a girl.

Blast from the past

2007-01-11T00:39:00.000-08:00

How lovely is it to keep bumping into people from the past? One of the best things about a relationship falling apart, is that you have all this time to rebuild friendships that were lost due to people not getting on, or feeling threatened.

I can completely understand why someone would feel threatened by the lass I re-met last night, because I would be lying if I said anything other than I fancy the pants off her. Always have. Cue a couple of hours of Al trying - incredibly clumsily - to be fun, and interesting, and complimentary, and not-a-dick.

It is nice to meet old friends and the like, and it is especially nice when they compliment you for - and I quote - 'looking very good'. Ok, I have gotten better compliments, but I am taking that one, and storing it for the next time someone shouts 'get off the stage fat-lad'.

'Be quiet strange balding man' (I shall retort, internally). 'For I am pretty, I know this because a real hottie said so' (I shall continue, in my head). 'I am off now, and once I am gone, you will no longer exist' (I shall think, in a small effort to be philosorifical).

Then I will finish my set and thank them for being a lovely audience, in my two-faced pat comedian way.

But I digress, last night wasn't completely unsuccessful, she did suggest we should talk more, and we did agree that the group should go out more. Now I have to somehow escalate this to 'you and I should go out more'. If only I had practiced this more over christmas, I'm sure it would have been easier*.

*who am I kidding?

'S ok, I didn't lose that much in the end.

2007-01-11T00:24:00.000-08:00

I'm sure I blogged yesterday, but I'm blowed if I can find where I put it! I will repeat it as best I can.

The first gag I ever wrote, was when I was in university. This is a paraphrased version:

"I used to be a big fan of spiderman when I was a kid. The deal with spiderman is he gets bitten by a radioactive spider, and develops radioactive spider powers. So he's climbing walls and shooting webs with gay abandon. I thought this was great, up until I was 12 and got bitten by a radioactive fat bastard.
Still, now I can eat tall pies in a single bound, and blame my glands faster than a speeding bullet. But don't make me hungry....you wouldn't like me...when I'm hungry."

Critique it all you like, that is a nice, neat gag that gets my set off to a good start. And far better comedians than I, have told me it is good.

Due to the reasons I spoke of on Tuesday, this gag has to be mothballled, until such time as I put all the weight back on.

So the challenge on Tuesday night, was to retain as much as I could of my Fat Bloke/ Exercise/ Diet routine, whilst acknowledging the fact that I am no longer a complete bloater.

It went surprisingly well. This is due - in part - to the fact that it was in front of the Long Live Comedy crowd, who are some of the most lovely people in the world to perform to. BUT, it is still an indicator that there is funny in there, I just need to edit it a little. I also came up with a few ideas on the blog, which will now be part of the usual stage routine, replacing the 'Radioactive Fat Bastard' intro that I love so much.

There were even a few ideas that came to me on stage, and - wonder of wonders - I actually remembered to record the set!! I KNOW! BRILLIANT!

I should be happy, but I've lost too much

2007-01-09T00:58:00.000-08:00

I have finally admitted to myself that I can't do the fat man material any more. Gutted. Steph has been telling me that for a month or so, but I've been trying to pretend it's not true. The fact is, when a 15 stone bloke gets on stage, and proclaims that he is fat, people will immediately look at the 20 stone bloke in the corner and think: 'No son, you are chunky, cuddly at best. Now that boy is fat'.

That accounts for 2 minutes of really safe material, that works everywhere in the country, and is a nice way to open my set. So now I have to try something else.

I am going to try and re-model it as an 'I lost a load of weight, diets are stupid' set – hence some of the stupid blogs from last week, as I was banging around some ideas. I almost apologised for the random-ness of it all, but the chances are, it is the random-ness that makes people read the blog.

I know that I should be proud of myself for losing some 4 stone in the last 6 months, I really should. People over Christmas have been really complimentary about how I look. Not just saying 'didn't you do well', but saying 'you're looking good!' in that slightly shocked I-didn't-realise-you-weren't-ugly way that people have. I have been enjoying the compliments (not that any of it has yielded any action – which is more down to me than anything else). But the down sides are becoming apparent.

It is costing me a fortune to renew my wardrobe. It is costing me good stage material. According to the doctor, part of my kidney problem is down to the rapid weight loss. I know I am getting more female attention, and my mickey did get bigger, but every positive brings with it a negative – hopefully vice versa too.

Buggeration, I just did it again

2007-01-09T00:57:00.000-08:00

I am trying to get a handle on the concept of flirting by text message. I foolishly thought I was getting there...but...

Yesterday, I got a text at around midday from hot blonde girl who I mentioned before christmas. It was quite amusing, and based on a random conversation we had where we decided what animals each other looked like. General flirty banter, I'm sure you know the type.

I replied, she replied and so on and so on. This went on all day until about 10pm. I told a friend of mine about this, we were in the pub, it was about 20 past 10. He asked me when, during this text chat, I asked her to join me for a pint/ coffee/ cup-of-tea-and-slice-of-cake, whatever.

It hadn't occurred to me.

He said, 'you have had this girl showing interest, unsolicited, since midday, and it is now nearly half past 10.'

It really just hadn't occurred to me that this was an opportunity to press forwards.

As Rob pointed out in a comment a couple of months ago - the chatty bit is the easy bit. That last 5% where you spot a chance, and advance from speaking to squeaking is beyond me.

I actually had to take myself home, and give myself a slap. And not a nice one either.

The only straight in the village

2007-01-09T00:56:00.000-08:00

Having realised that a couple of things in my life were not going as planned due to drink (kidney pain, searching for a 'lady' the very fact that I don't remember moving into my house) I have decided to not drink for a couple of weeks.

This is a sensible and laudable exercise, and isn't as hard as I originally thought. I also decided that I would not allow this to interrupt my social life, so I am still going out - I'm just drinking soft drinks.

The net result is being stood there, a sober island in a sea of drunkeness. It has made me realise what a pain in the hoop I really am. Shocking really.

Thursday and Friday were ok, different pub mates all encouraging me to drink, realising we were getting nowhere, and enjoying the chat. Saturday, I was at the rugby club, and found myself watching the drinking games I am normally at the centre of.

It turns out, seeing someone fall over, break a chair, vomit and clutch some injured body part isn't funny. Even though I would normally be near wetting myself with laughter, it's surprisingly boring. And very repetitive.

Don't get me wrong, I know next time I am drunk at the club it will be funny again, I will enjoy it immensely. It's just that sobriety has shown me another side of it.

What's my prejudice?

2007-01-05T01:22:00.000-08:00

My parents generation had a society where up until the 60’s, homosexuality was illegal. It wasn’t until the 70’s that it stopped being considered a mental illness. Now it is pretty much accepted. Alright it is in some circles, but it is not generally acceptable to be homophobic. As a result, there is a general feeling among that generation that being gay is still somehow wrong. They would never be so crass as to be rude about it to a gay person, but the underlying thoughts are there.

My grandparents generation lived in a society where people of a different colour skin were still considered inferior. It was common for them to use racial slurs and the like – and these were educated people. Nowadays, they wouldn’t consider using them, but there is still that underlying feeling of racism amongst that generation. It isn’t militant, but it is an underlying trait.

I could never be so arrogant as to assume that my generation or I have got it all right, so I have to ask myself, what deep seated prejudice will I have that will embarrass and annoy my children, or my grandchildren.

I am drawing a blank. The problem is you have to search your own mind, and try to work out who you prejudge based on something other than their personality. I am pretty much drawing a blank unless you include people who have a track record of something which is – in my mind – unacceptable.

Is it charvers? They live to a specific culture, and I do judge that culture. Robbers, muggers, murderers – could it be that in a generation, these will be proved to be model citizen? Maybe in 30-40 years I will harbour strange and outdated negative opinions about paedophiles, or rapists.

Somehow I just can’t see it. I do have one thought that’s potentially true.

One of the last groups that we are still allowed to be rude about are the stupid. I don’t mean gullible or daft fun loving types. I mean people who are lacking a certain amount of brain power. Genuine remedial learners. I’ll be honest, I do look down on them to a certain extent. I am blessed in that I can pick up most concepts as quick as the next man. This means I just can’t comprehend what is going on in the mind of the truly slow learner.

I have a man who works for me, as a labourer. One of his jobs is to sort out the rubbish, and the recyclables. I bought him 3 bins. Green for paper and card, blue for plastic, black for everything else. I explained the concept. I asked him to show me him doing it.

“green-for-card, blue-for-plastic, aye Alan, fine”

I turned my back, I turned back, and saw him wedging cardboard into the black bin.

“KEN!”. “What Alan?”. “Cardboard, green bin”. “Aye Alan, green-for-card”. “But that is card and you are putting it in the black bin”.

Pause.

“Oh, aye, reet. Sorry Alan”.

It took me WEEKS of pretty intensive babysitting to get that one in, and it still goes wrong from time to time. I think that must be my last prejudice. The genuinely thick.

First Day Back

2007-01-04T02:30:00.000-08:00

I think we must all get the first-day-back-blues. Yesterday started really well for me, I got up early, and felt ok. I got to work early, and felt ok. I had a banana and a bottle of water instead of a coffee and a coffee. I gave myself a pat on the back for looking after my kidneys.

There was even an air of productivity about me and my team. It was all just kind of...ok. Then, come 3pm, I crashed. I just could not be bothered. I went up to the canteen and had a pie, but still nothing, so I hauled myself through the rest of the day, crawled home, and felt a bit rubbish.

Television happened to me for a few hours. It was a bit involuntary. I felt like I was being indecently exposed at by the time hollyoaks came on – the soap opera form of being flashed in the park. Nonetheless, I resolutely forced myself into doing nothing. I achieved my aim, and even allowed 'celebrity' big brother to assault my eyes. Though it occurred to me a more fair title would be Celebrity prison.

I have no truck with the same old line you will have heard on every radio show in the country this morning. 'You can't call it celebrity big brother because they aren't celebrities'. Balls. Leo Sayer is a bit celebrated in my book. If you don't like it, don't watch it. You would have good cause, it's a horrid program. But don't start complaining just because people with a profile as low as yours has got on.

It has gone a bit far though, Celebrity singing school, Celebrity camping trip, Celebrity prison, Celebrity dancing school, or the brilliant twist on that one, Celebrity dancing school….on ice. I don't know which genius executive came up with that one, but you can guarantee he was coked up to the eyeballs and gave himself the day off when he thought of it.

I never even used to be that bothered, but these days I only have 5 channels, so I'm forced into either watching this rather saccharine trash on the box, or doing something. I am considering putting a chicken in a cardboard box and watching that, because the alternative is going to the pub, and my poor kidneys just wouldn't thank me.

Great News!!

2007-01-03T01:19:00.001-08:00

It is clearly cheating to claim any kind of respect for this, because all I did was make shouty noises down the phone, but after my current bout of illness, I had some spectacular news.

About quarter past midnight last night, I was re-uncled. My big sister had a baby, a real one, with all working parts and everything. It is quite nice to feel that, after being de-uncled earlier in the year, this one can't be taken away.

It is a boy, and he is 7 and a half pounds, and it was a forcep assisted birth. I think. Those are the essential bits that everyone asks, and then has no idea what to do with the information. Though occasionally girls wince a little when you tell them the weight. On this occasion I think it's not too big, so no perceptible response.

He currently has no name – they were insistent on not knowing if it was boy or girl until he was born, which lead to some name confusion. My money is on them calling him Finn, but he could just as easily become a Sam.

I'm happy either way, as long as I get to do the fun uncle job of going around, making him giddy, shaking him up then retreating to a safe distance whilst they deal with the fallout.

So this has made me very happy. It is a good sign for the new year, new life, new opportunities, all the rest of it.

I sat and had a drink with a friend the other day. There has been a lot of turmoil during '06, for many people. There have been sudden deaths, huge illnesses, some breakups. We both decided something between us:

Piss off 2006, you were shit. Welcome 2007, you can't be any worse.

Ill and coming down - Jan 2nd

2007-01-03T01:19:00.000-08:00

I am coming down with a bit of a bump. I ate or drank something funky this weekend, because my stomach is like water, fizzy, angry water. I used chemical means to enjoy myself on New Years Eve, and I remembered shortly afterwards why I never do that.

I have been somewhat obnoxious to many, and complaining to the rest, and I'm not particularly proud of myself.

I am going to take a rest from being the entertainment for a while. I am the guy who does the dance, sings the song, shouts the loudest, so that everyone can lean back and say 'look at that mad basser, what's he going to do next?'

I love being that guy, but the strain is too much, and it causes big lows to go with the great highs.
I am fed up with regret. Bored of guilt. Tired of unhappiness.

I am going to do a lot of situps, eat some soup, drink some water, and write something amusing. Then with any luck, my stomach may stop gurgling, and I can go to work tomorrow, and get on with stuff.

Apparently, according to the advert, if I go to disneyland in florida, all my dreams will come true, but I don't want to get there and realise I am naked, all my school friends are there, and when I try to run away, I just can't. But maybe they didn't mean those dreams.

You can't always get what you want - Dec 31st

2007-01-03T01:18:00.000-08:00

but if you try some times, you get what you need.

I have no 'special lady' in my life, but I have more love in my life than I have had for years. Thanks in part to the kindness of strangers, but mostly because I am blessed with some pretty special friends.

That doesn't change the fact that I am on the hunt.

Tonight I am going to a house party, where I know there will be some suitable and interesting women. This is in stark contrast to the young, dull, unsuitable women I have been chasing in the last few weeks.

The fact is, the more you decide you want or need something, the more elusive it becomes. The way ahead appears to be to care less.

I had a long conversation with my mate Tamsin, who has been a bit of a rock. She was talking about all the one night stands she has, and how it's fun, but when it comes to someone she really cares about, she can't be as funny, as inviting, as sexy. She starts to worry about it all, and thus stops being the person that people are attracted to.

Interesting. I have a mate who is really good at pulling, and he jokes that he has no emotions. He took his heart out a few years ago, and stuck it in a jar. He might put it back in sometime in the future.

I have to stop caring about the loneliness, I have to stop putting any importance on the little things, I have to start to dismiss, if not despise, the people I'm talking to, in order to feed the needs I now have to deny.

You can't always get what you want, but if you don't try sometimes, it'll come to you.

Body Image

2007-01-03T01:13:00.000-08:00

Honestly, people have no idea.

Women think that stick thin is attractive (it really, really isn't). Women will tell you that your size is not important, it's the person that really counts. I have proof of that one being crap.

Both I and a friend of mine have recently lost weight. Prior to that, women saw us as 'friends' or didn't speak to us at all. As a result of years of training, we are both trying to get over the just-good-friends obstacle, but I do know that in both cases, we are getting a lot more random attention than we did a couple of stone ago.

Not lots you understand, lots MORE, which roughly translates as SOME.

Now I've been banging on about this subject more than others for a while, for the above reason, so you would probably be justified in assuming I had body image issues. I don't believe this is the case.

I have, however, pinned up a picture of the muscular body shape I would like, next to my mirror. That way, when ever I go to the mirror, I look at that instead, and convince myself that's how I look.
Interesting stuff. Problem is, when girls come into your room, see it, and assume you are gay.
Unless I can convince them to 'turn' me.