Lucky Charms?

Anyone that knows me, will know I have 3 major loves in my life that I take to incredible extremes – Dundee United, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers and Poker.

I host a weekly poker game for the Scottish Comedy scene that generally involves playing cards, talking shite and listening to one of my many Tom Petty DVDs. One night after I was singing along to the songs while playing my cards someone asked me if I went out my way to memorise all the lyrics, at which point, fellow comic Mark Nelson said “It’s on in this flat so fucking often that even I know all the fucking words”...as I said – extremes...

Now I’m not the type of person that believes in lucky charms or that walking under a ladder is bad luck – it may be a stupid thing to do as the likeliness of something falling on you is greatly increased, but I wouldn’t deem it unlucky. In saying this, I do have/have had certain things; I suppose people may call them charms that I carry with me for certain situations. For instance, for the past few years I’ve always had the same small charm in my pocket when doing a stand-up gig – not because it’s lucky, rather it reminds me of good times and hopefully helps put me in a positive frame of mind before the show. I also have a poker chip I use as a card guard when playing – again, not for luck, but for practical purposes and sentimental value. Do people that have “lucky” items genuinely believe they work? Would Kennedy have avoided being assassinated if he had had a lucky charm with him? Perhaps only if that lucky charm was a full size suit of armour – anyway, I digress...

I recently received a lovely new card guard for my poker exploits – a commemorative chip from the Hard Rock Cafe, Las Vegas, advertising a Tom Petty gig at their casino. The chip is gorgeous and emblazoned around the outside with the words:

“BABY, EVEN THE LOSERS GET LUCKY SOMETIMES” and on the flip-side, "EVEN THE LOSERS KEEP A LITTLE BIT OF PRIDE”

The first bit is certain fact when it comes to poker – I’ve seen some horrendous plays win some fabulous amounts of money, however the second bit is definitely not always the case – I’ve seen some losers at the card table throw pride to the wind and hurl abuse (or sometimes the occasional punch) in the direction of the player that knocked them out the game – but it’s a brilliant sentiment and a truly excellent song.

Marathon...

A few months ago I split up with my long-term girlfriend & found myself not really sure how to proceed with things in general. One thing I did know however, was that she was a gorgeous girl that was much better looking than I was and it would be unlikely I’d get that lucky again without putting in some significant effort. Slightly confused and wanting to change my life for the better, I decided that I was going to get fit and to force myself to train, I rashly signed up to run a leg of the Edinburgh marathon, safe in the knowledge it was a long way away and I had plenty of time...WORST IDEA EVER! As bad ideas go, that’s up there with: “Let’s give her a couple of these pills so she goes to sleep when we’re out for tapas...”

I first started “training” by going on a walking holiday to the Lake District where I went on a walk entitled Underloughrigg & Rydall Park. A walk, that was selected by my friend (and now girlfriend) Kirsty after looking at it’s synopsis in the guidebook, which started with the lines:

"This is a really soft walk with virtually no ascent. It is ideally suited to those recuperating from heart attacks, violent hangovers or loss of a leg."

Wow, she must have thought a lot of me! And did I feel like Id accomplished something!?...”loss of a leg”...a post accident Christopher Reeve could have completed this particular trek. But still, it was step 1 accomplished and I was proud of myself (albeit a shamefull pride that I can only liken to the feeling you’d have if you narrowly beat Jade Goody at Scrabble – as technically it counts as a victory, but inside it’s a loss).

Back to the present, and the day is now almost upon us – the marathon is Sunday and preparation has been, at best, patchy...If you would like to help us in our quest, which I know you desperately would, please visit:

http://www.justgiving.com/comedy

and help out the team (pictured below - clockwise from top left, Keir McAllister, Vladimir McTavish, Andy Vaughan & Nick Morrow):




It’s going to be tough, but hopefully it will also be fun...

Quiz Machines

My friend Chris (you can read his excellently written blog here) and I used to meet up and go out drinking in Glasgow all the time. As a result we probably knew everything about one another and as we met on almost a daily basis, there was never much “new” to talk about. This resulted in playing the Quiz machines as a method to help pass the time. We actually got really good at a game called “Billy The Quid”, the winnings from which almost passed as our income at the time.

Every time we achieved a high score, when prompted, we would type in the name “BAWS”. It was funny for us to see the screen filled from top to bottom with “BAWS” and the Highscores table was a little bit of recognition that we were immensely proud of.

Anyway, to the point in hand – I was gigging at The State Bar last night and after leaving, a group of us ended up going out for a few drinks. We ended up in The Hall on Sauchiehall St and we spent some time playing the Quiz machine – achieving the Highscore in Monopoly. When looking at the table – the current Highscore was BAWS and since I haven’t been in The Hall for a few months – I knew it was Chris that had the Highscore...but not anymore, it has been replaced by “BAWS II”. I wonder if Chris will realise this was me. In fact I won’t wonder that for long because, he’ll probably read this first. I haven’t seen Chris in a while; however, this was a small victory for me, while still retaining the old team name.

In fact, I wonder if it would be possible to communicate with someone using the Highscores board...but considering it costs 50p a game in order to write a maximum of 6 letters, I think I’ll just send a text...

Thugs?

It really is a fine line in this country that separates how the masses view individuals. For instance, there was a photo in one of the newspapers, of some Rangers fans in Manchester kicking a police officer that was lying on the ground.

Quite rightly so, the accompanying caption branded these men as “thugs”. It’s interesting to note, however, if you change that policeman for a Muslim man on fire, you’ve just turned a “thug” into a “national hero”...

New Gladiators

Sky 1 has just started screening the New Gladiators. Essentially the TV program that was popular in the 90s is back with a bang – new Gladiators, new outfits and a couple of new games.

It was going to be amazing. I organised a big group of mates over to watch the first screening on my lovely Sky+ with surround sound. The room was kitted out with alcohol & snacks a plenty – it was going to be a fun hour.

So the big moment came and we tuned into Sky1 to find the screen was blue with the message “No Satellite Signal Being Received”.

We reacted as any group of self-respecting Glaswegians would. We ran out onto the street, smashed a couple of shop windows and started kicking a police officer.

Match Officials

So, still seething from the Rangers v Dundee United match at the weekend, my dad forwarded me this picture of the linesman - made me laugh, so I'll share it with you:

Another weekend at the football

So I'm just back from the Rangers v Dundee United game and I'm absolutely furious. Just how many times are my beloved Dundee United going to be screwed over by Rangers? And how much money am I going to spend in order to end up fucking angry!? A ticket for the away end was £24...for half the price I could have gone to Borders and bought a copy of Jodie Marsh's autobiography, Keeping it Real, if I had wanted to spend 2 hours in order to become filled with hatred and rage!

I'm not going to write about the many obscene refereeing decisions during the game - I'm unsure if blogger has a maximum word count, but I'm almost certain I'd breach it - instead I'll try and tell you about the one moment of the day that made me laugh.

Rangers have recently made it to the Uefa Cup Final, no mean feat, and to celebrate and show off this European triumph, the Rangers fans were throwing around beach balls...yes beach balls...they're going to Manchester for the final for fuck's sake...

For any Ranger's fans unsure of Manchester's exact location, here is a map:



As you'll see, it's in North England, hardly the climate for beach regalia...and it's also inland, miles away from the coast or any beach for that matter...

Stupid moronic low-lives...

...oh well, I suppose Manchester does have a canal - and if any Rangers fans are interested, I'll trade them their beach balls for the more appropriate bin bag, a rope and a few bricks...