I awoke on Saturday morning in a stiflingly hot tent and went outside to sit and recover from the previous night. None of the other guys were up yet so I spent about an hour propped in my chair feeling sorry for myself and my internal organs.
After a while the rest of the guys got up and were all equally as rough as I was. This was when Obie produced the only useful thing he had brought to the festival (with the exception of the lantern) – wet wipes.
He gave himself a good scrub down before offering them around the group so we could all give our hands and faces a good clean.
Mark, Obie and Martin then disappeared to get some food and Chris and I moved all the chairs inside as it had started to rain. As I was lifting Obie’s chair I noticed the packet of wipes lying on it and was slightly intruiged as to why there was a giant picture of a toilet on the front. After more inspection, I saw they were titled: “TOILET WIPES” and on the back gave instructions upon how to use them to clean a toilet. That’s right folks, Obie had unintentionally given us all toilet cleaning equipment to wash our hands and faces. This was made even more hilarious by the giant warning on the back that proclaimed: “WASH HANDS AFTER USE”.
If he’s using toilet cleaner to wash himself, I wonder what he uses to cook with or what he puts in his dishwasher…
We sat that afternoon drinking in the tent and gibbering inane nonsense, when I mentioned a Charlie Brooker article I’d read about the fact he is so ignorant about the world he didn’t actually know what rice was. Obie found this hilarious, repeating the words “What is rice” over and over while collapsing in fits of laughter. This led to many occasions in the evening when Obie would say in the company of strangers “Andy, do the rice joke.” And all I could reply with was “What is rice?” suffice to say this didn’t have the hilarious effects it had had earlier. In fact, fellow comedian Andy Sir just looked at us and said “It’s a grain” – totally ruining the moment. Damn him and his knowledge.
We went round to see the Proclaimers before doing our show and Chris & Mark spent most of the time standing amongst the crowd yelling “Do that song about Walking” –as we all know the Proclaimers have 3 songs and this is probably the one that most people know.
The gigs that night went really well, each of us doing a 30 minute stint with Mark up first, then myself then Obie (it was nice to have Mark supporting me for a change…the way I have always known that it should be).
The crowd was a weird mix of hippies, drunkards, families and abandoned children. It was a top night, where I used my favourite response to a heckle ever. Some guy wandered into the tent and shouted some garbled nonsense at me before I turned round and proclaimed:
“Can’t you see that heckling me won’t bring back your apples?!”
About half the audience pissed themselves and the other half looked at me as if I was a mentalist. I must remember that line in case I ever do another gig at a venue related to the Wickerman movie.
Top line of the night in my opinion was Obie talking to a group of kids about masturbating, before getting the youngster to stand up and saying:
“A big hand for the wee wanker.”
Was hilarious and I’m certain the only time that I will ever see a situation like it.
He then finished off his set, but the crowd were enjoying it so much he got out his notebook to test-drive some new jokes. He read through a couple of ideas before saying:
“New Mortgages – 0870590674…that’s not funny, I just need a new mortgage so I wrote the number in my notebook”
Again – this is classic Obie – pure genius.
We then went to the backstage area where the guys were given cheese and biscuits when I used one of the clean “artists toilets” – just as well, as I had left the toilet wipes at the campsite.
It was then off to the burning of the Wickerman and another night of mayhem followed that involved drinking, dancing, dodgems, waltzers and various other random activities. We left the following day feeling suitably worn out.
A cracking weekend.
Wednesday, 25 July 2007
Tuesday, 24 July 2007
Wickerblog - Part 1
So I am just back from playing the Wickerman Festival. Here is a quick rundown of some of the stuff that happened on the Firday – Saturday will be tomorrow’s post. I was there with both Mark Nelson and Chris Prigg, so I’m sure anything I’ve missed out will be included in their blog.
The three of us left Glasgow after stocking up with all the camping essentials – ie. £80 of booze and a sandwich that we probably wouldn’t eat.
The journey down was pleasant enough, however we were a wee bit rushed for time, arriving at just after 8.15pm when I was meant to be on stage at 9. We hurriedly put up the tent and then ran to do our gig – I split the 30mins I was meant to do that night with Mark - and we went down pretty well.
We went back to the tent to find Obie and his mate Martin had arrived, with an 8-man tent for just the 2 of them. TIP – If bringing an obscenely large tent to a music festival, try to get to the campsite early – NOT 35 hours after the gates open, you may have trouble finding a space to put it.
Now when I say “you”, what I actually mean is “myself & Martin” as Obie fucked off to do his gig, leaving us two to put up an 8-man tent with no instructions, in the dark. It wasn’t totally in the dark – Obie had brought a lantern – one of the two things he actually brought – the other being wipes and there will be more of that story tomorrow.
When we were putting up this tent, a couple of security guards walked past and we ended up talking to them, sharing a beer and then arranging to be allowed into the festival with as much booze as we wanted to bring…result!
So the tent properly erected and everyone having finished their gigs – the five of us had a drink round the tents with what was basically an army of UpFront guards – top notch lads – before we set-off to explore the various tents.
We wandered round between the tents in a drunken stupor. I think we actually kept walking around in circles – visiting each tent before moving onto the next one without realising we’d been in it before.
In one tent there were 5 tree stumps in a circle and with there being 5 of us, it was too much of a coincidence to not stand on them and do pretty much nothing. Obie left his stump for a couple of minutes to get a beer and when he returned a young woman had taken his place, balancing deftly while sipping at a Bacardi Breezer. Now Obie did what anyone in his position would do if you returned to your log to find it occupied – he rugby tackled her.
She flew about 6 feet backwards and the two of them landed in the mud. I don’t think I’d laughed at any of the comedy as much as I laughed at that – it was brilliant.
We made a quick exit and visited a few more tents before heading back to the campsite for some more high-jinks.
The rest of the night is pretty much a blur – I can remember laughing a lot and also spending a lot of time on the floor.
Not bad for a day that I was technically “working”.
The three of us left Glasgow after stocking up with all the camping essentials – ie. £80 of booze and a sandwich that we probably wouldn’t eat.
The journey down was pleasant enough, however we were a wee bit rushed for time, arriving at just after 8.15pm when I was meant to be on stage at 9. We hurriedly put up the tent and then ran to do our gig – I split the 30mins I was meant to do that night with Mark - and we went down pretty well.
We went back to the tent to find Obie and his mate Martin had arrived, with an 8-man tent for just the 2 of them. TIP – If bringing an obscenely large tent to a music festival, try to get to the campsite early – NOT 35 hours after the gates open, you may have trouble finding a space to put it.
Now when I say “you”, what I actually mean is “myself & Martin” as Obie fucked off to do his gig, leaving us two to put up an 8-man tent with no instructions, in the dark. It wasn’t totally in the dark – Obie had brought a lantern – one of the two things he actually brought – the other being wipes and there will be more of that story tomorrow.
When we were putting up this tent, a couple of security guards walked past and we ended up talking to them, sharing a beer and then arranging to be allowed into the festival with as much booze as we wanted to bring…result!
So the tent properly erected and everyone having finished their gigs – the five of us had a drink round the tents with what was basically an army of UpFront guards – top notch lads – before we set-off to explore the various tents.
We wandered round between the tents in a drunken stupor. I think we actually kept walking around in circles – visiting each tent before moving onto the next one without realising we’d been in it before.
In one tent there were 5 tree stumps in a circle and with there being 5 of us, it was too much of a coincidence to not stand on them and do pretty much nothing. Obie left his stump for a couple of minutes to get a beer and when he returned a young woman had taken his place, balancing deftly while sipping at a Bacardi Breezer. Now Obie did what anyone in his position would do if you returned to your log to find it occupied – he rugby tackled her.
She flew about 6 feet backwards and the two of them landed in the mud. I don’t think I’d laughed at any of the comedy as much as I laughed at that – it was brilliant.
We made a quick exit and visited a few more tents before heading back to the campsite for some more high-jinks.
The rest of the night is pretty much a blur – I can remember laughing a lot and also spending a lot of time on the floor.
Not bad for a day that I was technically “working”.
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
Sharing the knowledge
Yesterday I went round to Kirsty’s to help her sister with some maths – none of which I really remember. (When I say “remember”, I possibly mean “recognise” or perhaps even “learnt in the first place”).
Nonetheless, we struggled through and I like to think, made some headway. In fact I was pretty pleased with the outcome and surprised myself with how much I was able to remember correctly and pass on to my young padawan.
This made me think that I might be good at teaching. Maybe not in a classroom situation – but possibly on a one to one tutoring basis where I could attempt to share the knowledge I have gathered with people learning it for the first time.
Sounds like an ideal job – and it probably would be if the students I worked with were all going to be as easy going and intelligent as Gill – but in reality you would open yourself up to being approached by all sorts of mentalists.
Dealing with morons/trouble makers/ idiots in a comedy club is now something I can deal with and deal with pretty well after years of Mac Star gigs, however on a one to one basis where I had some position of responsibility – other than being trusted to hold a microphone – is a totally different matter.
It wouldn’t be long before I told someone that couldn’t grasp the concept of differention that they should apply for a media studies course instead, or replied to some smart assed remark with a strategically placed heckler style put-down – only for them to run off crying to their mother while I end up being promptly fired.
I guess teaching, like so many other good careers, just isn’t for me.
I suppose I’m just going to have to keep writing jokes and swearing at drunks instead…what a waste of a private education…
Nonetheless, we struggled through and I like to think, made some headway. In fact I was pretty pleased with the outcome and surprised myself with how much I was able to remember correctly and pass on to my young padawan.
This made me think that I might be good at teaching. Maybe not in a classroom situation – but possibly on a one to one tutoring basis where I could attempt to share the knowledge I have gathered with people learning it for the first time.
Sounds like an ideal job – and it probably would be if the students I worked with were all going to be as easy going and intelligent as Gill – but in reality you would open yourself up to being approached by all sorts of mentalists.
Dealing with morons/trouble makers/ idiots in a comedy club is now something I can deal with and deal with pretty well after years of Mac Star gigs, however on a one to one basis where I had some position of responsibility – other than being trusted to hold a microphone – is a totally different matter.
It wouldn’t be long before I told someone that couldn’t grasp the concept of differention that they should apply for a media studies course instead, or replied to some smart assed remark with a strategically placed heckler style put-down – only for them to run off crying to their mother while I end up being promptly fired.
I guess teaching, like so many other good careers, just isn’t for me.
I suppose I’m just going to have to keep writing jokes and swearing at drunks instead…what a waste of a private education…
Tuesday, 10 July 2007
The big question about the new iPhone
I was browsing the paper on my way to work when I came across an article about the new iPhone. But rather than a technical appraisal of Apple’s most recent telecommunications device, the piece centred around a website that asked the question (that I’m sure is on everyone’s lips):
“Will it blend?”
Basically the sole purpose of this site is to see whether objects will blend in a traditional kitchen blender. You can watch the video of this fascinating subject here.
Why anyone would want to blend their new iPhone is beyond me – however, for publicity of the website – it really is working (I for one am spreading the word here).
I, and I am speaking purely for myself here, don’t ever take into account an object’s blendability when I am thinking of making a purchase and I can’t think of anyone that would.
Perhaps it would appeal to a starving family that would be safe in the knowledge that if all the food in the village runs out – they could blend and consume their telephone/MP3 player. Although this begs the question, “What the hell were they buying an iPhone for when they can’t afford to eat?”
My guess is that it’s an image thing.
It would, of course, be infinitely cooler to have an iPhone than several bags of rice – especially if it were one of the sleek black models.
And while you could consume the rice – you certainly couldn’t make a telephone call or listen to Bruce Springsteen Live in Dublin on it. Whereas the iPhone can suit both purposes – although you could only eat it once.
Further research on the topic will show that this guy has blended many things, ranging from golf clubs to automobile parts. He’s quoted as saying – “Whenever I get something new I always wonder ‘Will it blend?’.”
Let’s just hope he never has a baby.
And if he does, he remembers to put the lid on. It could get awfully messy.
“Will it blend?”
Basically the sole purpose of this site is to see whether objects will blend in a traditional kitchen blender. You can watch the video of this fascinating subject here.
Why anyone would want to blend their new iPhone is beyond me – however, for publicity of the website – it really is working (I for one am spreading the word here).
I, and I am speaking purely for myself here, don’t ever take into account an object’s blendability when I am thinking of making a purchase and I can’t think of anyone that would.
Perhaps it would appeal to a starving family that would be safe in the knowledge that if all the food in the village runs out – they could blend and consume their telephone/MP3 player. Although this begs the question, “What the hell were they buying an iPhone for when they can’t afford to eat?”
My guess is that it’s an image thing.
It would, of course, be infinitely cooler to have an iPhone than several bags of rice – especially if it were one of the sleek black models.
And while you could consume the rice – you certainly couldn’t make a telephone call or listen to Bruce Springsteen Live in Dublin on it. Whereas the iPhone can suit both purposes – although you could only eat it once.
Further research on the topic will show that this guy has blended many things, ranging from golf clubs to automobile parts. He’s quoted as saying – “Whenever I get something new I always wonder ‘Will it blend?’.”
Let’s just hope he never has a baby.
And if he does, he remembers to put the lid on. It could get awfully messy.
Monday, 9 July 2007
Fictional Arrangements
The other day I was sitting in my house after a pretty tiring day at work, watching some under20’s football on Sky Sports. I was getting up to make some tea, when my phone rang, it was my friend Kirsty and the conversation went something like this:
K – Hey!
A – Hi, how are you?
K – Good. Are you inside?
Now, although a reasonably strange question, I still answered.
A – Yeah
K – Cool, I’ll see you in five minutes.
A – You’ll see me…? What are you talking about?
K – Yeah very funny, I’m on my way round.
A – You’re where?
K – Just round the corner from Tusk.
For those unaware, Tusk is a bar in Shawlands, about a twenty minute walk from my house. I wracked my brains trying to remember if I had made any plans and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember ever making any arrangements.
A – Eh, Kirst, I am still in my house.
K – What! You’re going to be so late – did you forget?
A – No I was never informed in the first place…right…give me 25mins and I’ll see you there.
So I rushed upstairs, got ready, bombed out the house and made it in time to meet my friend.
I really have no recollection of making these plans – which she informed me I had made the previous night – so it’s not likely I would have forgotten. The more I think about this – the more I am certain she made it up, possibly dreamt it or possibly was bored and wanted to go out – knowing that this tactic would make me feel guilty about “forgetting” and thus force a tired me into going out instead of sleeping.
It’s a tactic I may use in the future when needing someone to go out with – although most of my friends (Chris especially) would just tell me to fuck off…I, on the other hand, am just too nice.
So upon meeting Kirsty at the bar, we ordered some wine and had a conversation about how the situation had arisen, a conversation that the barman was also listening to in parts.
The conversation started:
K- Andy you’re so late
A – Yeah but I had no idea of this meeting!
K – You’re still late though
And the line he picked up and caused him to laugh out loud was:
“But I came really quickly – surely you were pleased with that?”
When paying for our drinks the barman gave me a smile – possibly out of pity.
K – Hey!
A – Hi, how are you?
K – Good. Are you inside?
Now, although a reasonably strange question, I still answered.
A – Yeah
K – Cool, I’ll see you in five minutes.
A – You’ll see me…? What are you talking about?
K – Yeah very funny, I’m on my way round.
A – You’re where?
K – Just round the corner from Tusk.
For those unaware, Tusk is a bar in Shawlands, about a twenty minute walk from my house. I wracked my brains trying to remember if I had made any plans and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember ever making any arrangements.
A – Eh, Kirst, I am still in my house.
K – What! You’re going to be so late – did you forget?
A – No I was never informed in the first place…right…give me 25mins and I’ll see you there.
So I rushed upstairs, got ready, bombed out the house and made it in time to meet my friend.
I really have no recollection of making these plans – which she informed me I had made the previous night – so it’s not likely I would have forgotten. The more I think about this – the more I am certain she made it up, possibly dreamt it or possibly was bored and wanted to go out – knowing that this tactic would make me feel guilty about “forgetting” and thus force a tired me into going out instead of sleeping.
It’s a tactic I may use in the future when needing someone to go out with – although most of my friends (Chris especially) would just tell me to fuck off…I, on the other hand, am just too nice.
So upon meeting Kirsty at the bar, we ordered some wine and had a conversation about how the situation had arisen, a conversation that the barman was also listening to in parts.
The conversation started:
K- Andy you’re so late
A – Yeah but I had no idea of this meeting!
K – You’re still late though
And the line he picked up and caused him to laugh out loud was:
“But I came really quickly – surely you were pleased with that?”
When paying for our drinks the barman gave me a smile – possibly out of pity.
Sunday, 8 July 2007
New Steve & Dave
Click the image to enlarge
To see previous Steve & Dave strips click on the label at the bottom of the post.
Saturday, 7 July 2007
Steve & Dave
Click the image to enlarge
There is a new Steve & Dave posted every Saturday, so be sure to check back.
To see previous Steve & Dave strips click on the label at the bottom of the post.
Friday, 6 July 2007
This Summer's Blockbusters
I went to the cinema recently to see Zodiac – what a movie! I urge everyone that reads this to go and see it now!
No…stop reading…go now! I MEAN RIGHT NOW! You can read the rest of this post later…
So how was it? I can answer that for you…”brilliant”.
Unfortunately, having seen the trailers for the rest of the films coming out this summer I am led to believe that Zodiac won’t be surpassed when it comes to quality.
Although, that’s not to say I’m not looking forward to this summer’s offering for cinema-goers.
One film I’ll definitely go to see is Transformers the movie. I remember weeks spent as a child at Centre Parks watching nothing but the animated series. I seem to recall the televisions there having only one channel that showed only Transformers and My Little Pony – when people say TV was better when they were a kid are simply liars.
I can remember watching Transformers and being amazed at robots that turned into planes, cars and ultimate fighting machines – but there were also some pretty useless ones out there as well, such as Soundwave.
Soundwave was one of the bad guys – a pretty terrifying, massive robot that transformed into…wait for it…a cassette deck. While all his evil brothers were out waging war and wreaking havock on civilisation, all he would be able to do was play some suitably terrifying music in the background. I wonder if he was bullied at school? Perhaps having the ability to transform into a radio (something that transformers with the ability to turn into cars would have as a simple built in accessory) was the Decepticon equivalent of being ginger.
But the good-guys also had their fair share of daft Transformers – a prime example being Perceptor. The robot that could turn into a microscope. That’s right – a microscope. And this microscope was bloody massive – possibly not so good at seeing small things – just making huge things even bigger. Being a writer for the show must have been a nightmare when having to write this guy into the script. The story lines you would have to come up with would be so contrived…“The world will end unless someone can accurately recite a long lost magic spell written in Times New Roman sized 2 font…surely all is lost…No wait – get Perceptor!”
It might sound shite, but it’s still better than Big Brother…
No…stop reading…go now! I MEAN RIGHT NOW! You can read the rest of this post later…
So how was it? I can answer that for you…”brilliant”.
Unfortunately, having seen the trailers for the rest of the films coming out this summer I am led to believe that Zodiac won’t be surpassed when it comes to quality.
Although, that’s not to say I’m not looking forward to this summer’s offering for cinema-goers.
One film I’ll definitely go to see is Transformers the movie. I remember weeks spent as a child at Centre Parks watching nothing but the animated series. I seem to recall the televisions there having only one channel that showed only Transformers and My Little Pony – when people say TV was better when they were a kid are simply liars.
I can remember watching Transformers and being amazed at robots that turned into planes, cars and ultimate fighting machines – but there were also some pretty useless ones out there as well, such as Soundwave.
Soundwave was one of the bad guys – a pretty terrifying, massive robot that transformed into…wait for it…a cassette deck. While all his evil brothers were out waging war and wreaking havock on civilisation, all he would be able to do was play some suitably terrifying music in the background. I wonder if he was bullied at school? Perhaps having the ability to transform into a radio (something that transformers with the ability to turn into cars would have as a simple built in accessory) was the Decepticon equivalent of being ginger.
But the good-guys also had their fair share of daft Transformers – a prime example being Perceptor. The robot that could turn into a microscope. That’s right – a microscope. And this microscope was bloody massive – possibly not so good at seeing small things – just making huge things even bigger. Being a writer for the show must have been a nightmare when having to write this guy into the script. The story lines you would have to come up with would be so contrived…“The world will end unless someone can accurately recite a long lost magic spell written in Times New Roman sized 2 font…surely all is lost…No wait – get Perceptor!”
It might sound shite, but it’s still better than Big Brother…
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Fascinating Returns (12A)
And so after a long spell in the wilderness – my blog has returned. (Did you see what I did with the title? Similar to Batman Returns? No, of course you didn’t, it was far too contrived).
I am at odds on whether to try and back-date all the entries I have missed or whether just to start afresh, although this would mean some of the hilarious moments over the past six weeks will be lost forever…we shall see what happens.
So what’s been happening since my last post? A fuck-load actually!
I’ve been busy gigging recently, doing a load of new material, so I’ll let you know how that’s been going in the coming entries.
Regular readers will know that I enjoy my TV and it had been my intention to write about what’s currently being screened on the box. But one thing has put paid to that…fucking Wimbledon.
I hate Wimbledon.
I have been down once before and I basically spent the whole day praying that it wouldn’t rain. Not because I wanted to see any tennis (which I hate), it was because I hate Cliff Richard even fucking more.
I guess the main reason Wimbledon pisses me off so much is that it is home for a month to the biggest group of moronic idiots, wearing Union Jack apparel and talking of nothing but Tim Henman (Britain’s biggest failure since the 1665 attempt at a cure for the plague).
All the attractive young women down there absolutely love him – which has always puzzled me as I imagine sex with him would be terrible, seeing as he can never get past a semi…
So with television pretty much out of action until the tennis nonsense is over, I have been spending more time watching movies and reading film magazines, which leads me to my next topic…
Possibly, the greatest news is that Indianna Jones IV is in production. For me, this has been a longer, more anticipated wait than that of a small African village waiting for the next Red Cross delivery.
The fourth film intrigues me a lot as I do not know anything of the plot. In the first film they had the Ark of the Covenant, the second had the Sacred Stones, the third was the Holy Grail and now, in this film, it’s Harrison Ford that’s the ancient relic.
...And yes…the reason for this resurgence in blogging is Mark Nelson called me a tool…which I am not…I’ll show him…
I am at odds on whether to try and back-date all the entries I have missed or whether just to start afresh, although this would mean some of the hilarious moments over the past six weeks will be lost forever…we shall see what happens.
So what’s been happening since my last post? A fuck-load actually!
I’ve been busy gigging recently, doing a load of new material, so I’ll let you know how that’s been going in the coming entries.
Regular readers will know that I enjoy my TV and it had been my intention to write about what’s currently being screened on the box. But one thing has put paid to that…fucking Wimbledon.
I hate Wimbledon.
I have been down once before and I basically spent the whole day praying that it wouldn’t rain. Not because I wanted to see any tennis (which I hate), it was because I hate Cliff Richard even fucking more.
I guess the main reason Wimbledon pisses me off so much is that it is home for a month to the biggest group of moronic idiots, wearing Union Jack apparel and talking of nothing but Tim Henman (Britain’s biggest failure since the 1665 attempt at a cure for the plague).
All the attractive young women down there absolutely love him – which has always puzzled me as I imagine sex with him would be terrible, seeing as he can never get past a semi…
So with television pretty much out of action until the tennis nonsense is over, I have been spending more time watching movies and reading film magazines, which leads me to my next topic…
Possibly, the greatest news is that Indianna Jones IV is in production. For me, this has been a longer, more anticipated wait than that of a small African village waiting for the next Red Cross delivery.
The fourth film intrigues me a lot as I do not know anything of the plot. In the first film they had the Ark of the Covenant, the second had the Sacred Stones, the third was the Holy Grail and now, in this film, it’s Harrison Ford that’s the ancient relic.
...And yes…the reason for this resurgence in blogging is Mark Nelson called me a tool…which I am not…I’ll show him…
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