Hello there. I'm going to be blogging here a lot more (I mean it this time). Normally, I blog on myspace.com/michaellegge and on my Facebook page. I blogged pretty much every day during this year's Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Here are the past blogs in order. From now on I'll post as normal here. By the way, I say the word "cunt" a lot. Enjoy!
29th July 2008
Current mood: cranky
Category: Romance and Relationships
Day one of the Edinburgh trip has passed. The Fringe itself hasn't started yet but Edinburgh has definitely begun. As soon as we got here the sun went behind a cloud, wrote a note about not being able to cope anymore and then blew it's own brains out. I walked from my flat to this internet cafe I'm now in and on the way was attacked by a vicious gang of fog. It was really sunny in London and now we're up here banging our heads on clouds.
Another clue that we're in Edinburgh is the lack of anything that you actually want. I'm from Ireland and I can confidently claim that the Irish and Scottish do "bugger all" better than anyone in the world (Take that, Wales!). If you want it then there isn't a fucking hope in hell of you getting it up here. And the worst thing is, they do it with a smile. Generally, I set my blood to simmer anyway but the temperature always rises when I see some scottish/irish person gleefully tell me that they've run out of Diet Coke. "But we do have Vimto". And in less than 24 hours I had to ask four times for a cup of tea in a cafe, the flat I moved into doesn't have the promised wi-fi or the promised TV or the (I assumed) promised hot water and the menu in the Indian restaurant was written in cod-scottish so not only did we not understand the Indian terms but we nae did'nee unnerstan the scawtish neither, ye ken? The flat also isn't the one advertised, but the landlady is genuinely nice and very happy to tell you all this. And, I'm afraid to admit, I'd be the same. I love delievering bad news. Face it; I'm a cunt.
On top of this, I decided that the only way to survive a month of Edinburgh drinking and eating bad was to at least go to the Gym every day. I'm a member of Fitness First's chain of gyms. They have over 17 billion gyms all over Britain so a daily work-out was guaranteed. Of course, that is until you come to Edinburgh. Where's their nearest gym? East Kilbride. Obviously, I'm furious and secretly overjoyed.
Rehearsals today. First show tomorrow.
30th July 2008
Current mood: excited
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
I woke up this morning to find black banana stuck to the top of the kitchen door. This is because superstar Johnny Candon has now joined us in our flat. I also had my first drunk night of Edinburgh. Drink was taken and at 2 in the morning we all still thought it was brilliant that we were watching a black & white Doctor Who story that we all hated. Anyway, one thing led to another and now there's black banana on our kitchen door.
So, it was my first drunk night and today was our first tech run-through of the show which spawned two new lines! Mainly, due to me not remembering the actual lines. Another first happened today; I was handed my first flyer of the festival. My first of a fucking billion to come. You can't walk three feet in Edinburgh without someone begging you to see their solo version of Romeo & Juliet or a teenage revue team's Reduced Works of Ben Affleck. The flyer in question was handed to me by The Lovely Ben Moor. That is actually his real name. He is actually called The Lovely Ben Moor and everyone who knows him always refer to his full title when talking about him. I know him reasonably well and therefore call him by his first name, The Lovely. He is lovely and his shows are lovely but they sell out fast which is something I would never stoop to or achieve. Anyway, the lovely man gave me his flyer and as soon as he left I folded it in two to make his face look like it didn't have a nose. It's what me and my "friends" will do to all flyers we get. It's funny. And soon I will post a gallery of the best ones right here.
It's the first night tonight. 11pm. Think of me then.
31 Jul 2008
Current mood: evil
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
The first Clock Hour of Edinburgh went very well last night. Obviously, I was the best and the other cunts...sorry, my fellow performers were the best too. Especially Margaret, who I stood in front of during the whole of the final scene. Stupid crying pregnant bastard.We still don't know the show 100% but it's very good and we're all happy with it. Which is worrying because if we like it then no-one will come and we'll never win an award sponsored by a loans company. If we thought the show was a sack of shit in a bag of balls then it'd be nominations all over the shop. They'd probably bring the Perrier back just for us but, sadly, we're just not shit enough. Must try worser. Of course, I feel like a winner already because this is the third year in a row where I've been ignored by a man called Toilet who always pretends he's never met me. He's a cunt's cunt.
So, very happy with our show and I've just seen Johnny Candon's One Careless Lady Owner at the Stand 2. Johnny is naturally funny and charming but watching him sweat through his life as an adopted Johnny Candon really was fun. I'd recommend seeing it but it's on at 12.15 which is mad. I recommend staying up all night. Just like Johnny.
Edinburgh is also experiencing it's very first ever heatwave with temperatures soaring to chilly. It's really nice here at the moment but pissing with rain shall resume shortly no doubt. I'm on at The Liar Show today (www.theliarshow.com) where I will tell the story of a 4 year old Nazi. Should be fun.
01 Aug 2008
Current mood: bouncy
Category: Food and Restaurants
OK, let's start with last nights show. Right in the first 3 seconds of me being on stage a latecomer walked in and farted. Needless to say, from then on in it was our best performance to date. It had everything! Laughs, applause, improvisation, technical hitches and two walk-outs. I genuinely couldn't be happier. It's really going great.
Yesterday I was very pleased to take part in The Stand's Best of Irish photoshoot. Sadly, I had to smile while holding a bottle of Magners, something no decent human being has ever done before. But it was for The Stand, probably the UK's best comedy club, so I did it. What I didn't do, unlike 5 of my fellow Best Irish comedians did, is get my photo taken while punching a man dressed as an apple. A grain of dignity still....
Then I saw the excellent Pros from Dover show which features the best ever Richard Burton sketch and immediately afterwards did a show called The Liar Show. It's run by an extremely nice man called Neil Masters who does mad things like cycle to the airport and back for a laugh. Strangely, I respect him for that. The Liar Show had it's first show yesterday and, although I can see it turning into some sort of cult hit, it does need tweeking a tad. The premise is this 4 "performers" tell a story each, 3 are true stories, 1 is a lie. The audience then guess which one is the liar. Simple? Yes, it fucking was. I told a story about taking a train to Edinburgh, a woman from Canada in America told a story about opening a bank account, a dutchman told a story about how he once spoke to another human and then, finally, a man told a story about how he once dismantled the Eiffel Tower with his pubes and shoved it up Spaceman Bill's arse. As you can see, it wasn't that difficult a quiz. Plus I was the only one not to get laughs so I'm in a huff. But it'll pick up and everyone there seemed to love it so maybe I'm just being John Q. Cuntyballs again. Adam Bloom's doing it soon so go to see it when he does it.
The day ended with a night at Brooks Bar where I was blanked by the very talented Mark Watson. That now makes my Edinburgh-Pretend-We've-Never-Met list to a whopping two; Toilet and Mark. It'll pick up though. On the way home we played football with the traffic and actually won. So that's what happened there then.
I saw Johnny Candon's One Careless Lady Owner again today and it was even better than yesterday. I have now decided to be Johnny's director for his show and one day I will tell him this. I made notes and notes and notes all the way through his show like a younger more beautiful Ben Walker. Johnny DEFINITELY needs to keep in the bit where he went red and apologised to an old lady in the front row for saying the word wank. He can drop the crap about being sold by nuns though.
I'm at The Stand tonight at 6 then Glasgow Jongleurs at 8.30 the back for The Clock Hour at 11. I'm like the Robin Ince of comedy! Phew!
02 Aug 2008
Current mood: weird
Category: Romance and Relationships
Last night was out third Clock Hour show. This time there were no technical hitches, our performances were better (even though I out-hammed Danny LaRue in some parts) and the audience seemed to really like it. It's all going so well that I can only assume that it's all an elaborate joke that's going to bitch-slap me at any moment. I'm so happy with the show and that is a BIG problem for me. I pride myself in my negativity and this new happiness is starting to give off the wrong impression to people.
I did Jongleurs in Glasgow before the show last night and after 2 minutes in the dressing room Rob Collins, the compere that night, said "Christ, you're fucking positive". No-one has ever said anything more insulting to me before in my life. I am the worlds 2nd greatest cynic. But he was right. I asked everyone how they were, I even looked like I gave a shit when they answered. I told them all about how lovely the weather has been and how I really should make more of an effort to get up Arthur's Seat this year. Only cunts go up Arthur's Seat. And only King Cunts do gigs up there. What the fuck is happening to me! I'll be telling people that I'll DEFINITELY come to their show next.
Today I'll be on at the Lucy & Des Show hosted by Des Clarke and the lovely Lucy Porter. She is now officially known as The Lovely Lucy Porter because she had a fight with the former Lovely Ben Moor and took his Lovely from his name. Plus she came to The Clock Hour last night and said nice things about it so she's doubly lovely now. Their show is on about 5 somewhere in the Pleasance. I am nothing if not a fountain of information.
I really better watch this positivity thing. I'm off for a run in the Meadows now. Really. I hate running. But this morning I put on my shorts, my trainers and made a Running-In-The-Meadows mix in my iPod and feel really happy about it. Of course I'm happy about it. I haven't actually started running yet. I feel happy now but in 20 minutes I'll feel exhausted, sweaty, angry and exceptionally blasphemous. I also might DIE. If this is my last blog then I want to go out in a blaze of glory.
BIG FUCK ARSE FLANGE!
03 Aug 2008
Elephants & Ladbrokes
Current mood: hungover
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
Last night's show was the first one that I can confidently say that I was totally shit in. I can be a bit shit in any show, of course, but last night's was shit on rye. Everyone else in the show was great, because they're pricks. I was shit because...well, fuck off. Luckily, Steve Bennett who runs Chortle.co.uk was in, I assume, to review the show so it'll be nice to know that the reason we get a one-star write up will solely be down to my talents. He might hate me as a performer but Steve seems to like me as a person (gay?) as we drank reasonably heavily together last night. I would now like to take this oppurtunity to review him: Seems likeable enough. 4/5.
At the moment I'm in an internet cafe, that uses an internet cable that was invented in 1204, directly across from the place where I stayed the first year I did Edinburgh. It's above a Ladbrokes which is a dream only a few of us have made a reality. It's also next to my favourite breakfast place in Edinburgh or the world; Elephants & Bagels. I used to love going in there. The overpriced toast, the stop-serving-breakfast-at-6am's, the look of shock on Steve Gribbins face. It's nice. JK Rowling invented Harry Potter there. I'm going to go there now and invented a character called Rapey the Raping Rapist. I trust when Rapey gets famous E&B will put up the same amount of memorabilia for him that they do for Harry.
I've got Glasgow Jongleurs again tonight before The Clock Hour but as of tomorrow I'll be going to see some shows. I'll tell you what they're like. Just like Steve Bennett.
04 Aug 2008
Current mood: busy
Wasn't I just saying how well our show was doing? Didn't I tell you how good it was? Well, it looks like a few people out there haven't been reading my blog or something because last night's audience were CUNTS. Boring bunch of mirthless bastards. When they laughed, which was practically fucking never, you could hear the disappointment in their voices like they'd let themselves down by actually enjoying something in their fucking useless, empty, cunty lives. I HATE THEM. I know that you really shouldn't blame an audience for a show's failure but trust me. THEY. WERE. CUNTS. I hope their ugly, fat, retarded children grow up to be murderers and kill them. Slowly. But, hey, that's the wonder of Edinburgh.
After the show, I had every right to go out drinking and so did so. At Brooks' Bar I was approached by a spangly Dan March who was very drunk and had shit all over his face. He immediately raped Paul and Jeremy, for some reason. Then he drunkenly said to me in a drunk drunken voice "How's it going then, you old bastard?". "Not very well, actually", I replied. "Why?" said drunk Dan, drunkenly. "Well," I quipped, "Some cunt just called me a bastard". But, hey, that's the wonder of Edinburgh.
Now, I really should point out that not everyone in the audience last night was a FUCKING BASTARD CUNT because two really nice American students waited after the show to say really nice things about it. I thank them a lot. Paul was wearing a lovely Batman t-shirt that impressed them a lot. They asked him if he'd seen The Dark Knight. "Seen it?" he said, "I lived it". I had no choice but to ask him in what way had he actually lived The Dark Knight? Johnny reckons it's because he lives in Wayne Manor. Well, he's looking after it for Camelot.
Tonight I do the Stand's Best of Irish before The Clock Hour and then compere Spank! right after it. I like all the busy-ness of this year's Edinburgh. It means I'm in even more of a bubble than most other years. I know nothing about what's going on outside the Fringe. I only found out today that Freddie Mercury didn't kill Jill Dando. I have no punchline to that. Oh, but I do have this: Do you think that the phrase "Safety Pimms" is funny and should be in our show? I do.
05 Aug 2008
Current mood: fabulous
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
I'm glad to say that last night's audience were a lot nicer than the previous nights bunch of fuckerbastards. The show was a lot more cartoony too. I think I like that.
Not everything was that nice though. I performed at The Stand's Best of Irish comedy show. I love The Stand so it's always a pleasure to be there but, unfortunately, a perfect example of cuntdom slipped through their radar and made his way to sitting in the front row. As I was on last at Best of Irish I thought it was fair to say that I AM THEREFORE THE BEST IRISH PERSON WHO EVER LIVED. He disagreed in the only way he knew how; by booking tickets to Jason Byrne over the phone while I was on stage. A great heckle indeed. But he ruined it after I declared I was from Northern Ireland and he said "I'm from Guildford, ironically". A bomb went off in Guilford in the 70's or 80's and he obviously concluded that it was a group effort by everyone from Northern Ireland. After I explained that I had nothing to do with it, it was my Mum, he became furious that I would make jokes about the loss of innocent lives. Er...HELLO? I don't think it was me that brought the subject up. And I don't think it was me that implied that all Northern Irish people are terrorists. Mind you, I think it was me that said "Ohh, looky me! I'm from Guildford! Boo hoo! I got all blowed up! Ah-boo-hoo!" I need to take it easy in the future.
After the Clock Hour I co-compered Spank! with Leon and it was fun and really difficult in equal measure. It's such a hi-NRG, fun-time, WE-ARE-HERE-TO-PARR-TAY atmosphere that wheeling out a (nearly) 40 year old permently grumpy joy-murderer like me seemed too much of a contrast. The audience were extremely nice and were postive about absolutely everything they saw or heard. I even got a huge round of whoops, hollers, cheers and YEAHS when I asked "Who here has feet?" but then in the second half I found myself in Nuts Magazine hell. In Spank! they have a spot called the one-minure promo where a member of the audience can get on stage and plug their show but, wait for it, they have to be naked! Unfortunately for me, someone was up for it, got up onstage, took her clothes off in public and told us all about the play she was in (The Crying Abortion Rape of Sodomy, Pleasance Away, 11am). I genuinely felt extremely uncomfortable and looked like a Dad who had come to Spearmint Rhino at 4am to drive home his stripper daughter. But not in a good way. The acts were great at Spank! though. Tommy and The Weeks were very funny indeed, as was Juliet Meyers, Ian Stone and, well, me, really.
I've seen shows that I'm not in too. I saw Johnny Candon's excellent One Careless Lady Owner (The Stand 2, 12.15pm) for the third time. It genuinely gets funnier each time and it's now so slick that Johnny's got the whole show down to 18 minutes so it'll both entertain and free up your day all at the same time. I highly recommend it. I then saw Stewart Lee, also at the Stand, but I don't really think I need to tell you how he was. It's very highly unlikely that you don't like him. I'm dying to see some shit impro though. Please feel free to recommend some.
07 Aug 2008
Me and Toilet up a tree.....
Current mood: loved
Category: News and Politics
I am a penis. Yesterday I spent money on a bag full of toys. A bag full of fucking toys for a man who's nearly 40. A bag full of toys for a man who I don't even like. Me. When will I grow up? When will this fucking stupidity end?
But I digress....Last night's show was FUCKING AMAZING! It was our first sell out show of the run and the audience loved it. The great thing was we had loads of press in. The Scotsman, The Guardian, The Daily Express, Melody Maker, Empire and The Bible all came to see us and promise 5 star reviews all round! They also said that they would kick Idiots of Ants to death and bootfuck Pappy's Fun Club into next year just so the public would only come to see us and no other sketch groups. They're leaving This Show Belongs to Lionel Ritchie alone for some reason. There was also a millionaire record producer from Hollywood in who wants to turn The Clock Hour into a film to be shown in London's West End! Plus the BBC want to record everything we've ever thought for a 4-part Radio 4 series for BBC3 on ITV2. I'm glad this is happening because now I am of equal to soooooooooooo many other lying cunts up here.
All the lovely sunshine was great for the first few preview days but now that the Festival is underway properly it's good to see the rain constantly working it's heart out to make us all miserable. It's rained non-stop since tuesday night and my room has a leak in it. Yesterday, it rained sideways for 4 hours and I saw a frog. In the fucking street. The good news is that the weather will remain like this for the next few days. After that the Met Office are issuing a severe weather warning. Fucking brilliant.
On a much happier note, I've been to see some shows. Zoe Gardner's Fault at the Underbelly is completely fantastic. It's just so solidly brilliant from start to finish and Zoe made me laugh constantly. I especially liked the bit when she said "You're a cunt!" and looked straight at me. It's an excellent show that you've really got to see so do that, please. I also saw Richard Herring's The Headmaster's Son which was amazing because it's just so slick and proffessional in it's structure and performance but filled with loads of brilliant stupidity too. It's good that. The best thing I've seen though is a wonderful pantomime musical called Portobello Pantomime: Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Now, everyone who knows me well knows that I absolutely adore pantomime musicals. "Oi, Pantomime Musical-Boy", my friends often say. "Are you going to another pantomime musical, you big panto-musey?" And this is probably the best, greatest and only pantomime musical I have ever seen. It's based on the Wizard of Oz which is a children's book about cunts but this time it's set on the Portobello Road market instead of Kansas and all the cunts have been replaced by fucking arseholes. Just in case you're thinking of going, understand this: Dorothy is now called D and she doesn't have a dog, she has a potato. A potato called PoTOTO. Well, it gave me lukemia. And Jeremy plays piano in it.
I've had some time to reflect recently and I think maybe I'm being a bit harsh on some people up here in Edinburgh. In fact, I'm going to put it all right by turning this Edinburgh run into a great story all it's own. My Edinburgh stay is actually going to have a proper story arc, the kind of story arc Richard Curtis would die for if he wasn't already dead. This is it: During this Edinburgh I am going to... BECOME BEST FRIENDS WITH TOILET. Toilet is a man who pretends he's never met me everytime we meet. He's an arrogant ball-ache but I will become his companion in this feel-good hit of an Edinburgh. I saw him the other night talking to my friends and immediately felt sick that I had no choice but to sit next to the pretentious fanny. It was then that I had the idea to be his best friend so I sat next to him. I mean, REALLY next to him. Really uncomfortably close as I was practically on him. Did he say hello? Did he register me? Did he even so much as ask me to stop sitting on his arm? NO. Because he is a hard-hearted cad but, because I have love in my heart, I feel like I can change Toilet for the better. We're enemies now but soon, we're going to find out that we really need each other. Me and Toilet are Trains, Planes and Automobiles 2 and, unfortunately for Toilet, I'm John Candy. Mainly, because I'd rather be dead than be in a film with him. Watch the development of this story, people, it's going to be a good one.
08 Aug 2008
Edinburgh in your own home.
Current mood: exotic
Our flyerers are amazing. We went from 3 tickets sold at 10pm last night to being two thirds full at 11pm. Thank you flyerers. I think people are interested in our show now not because people think we seem funny or people think that the poster looks good or people think that that's that one girl from Katy Brand's Big Fat Arse but because, basically, they want to fuck our flyerers. And who can blame them? They're fantastic looking. We have the studenty lovely blonde one and the studenty lovely Indie skinny boy and the studenty albino Canadian. They're gorgeous! And they're great at their job. Well done them then.
If you've ever been involved in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival you will know that there is only one thing worse than all the cunts up here and that is all the cunts who didn't come here. All the fucking shitty thick comedians who laugh at the thought of doing Edinburgh because it's a waste of time and money but still don't mind spending weekend after weekend in Nottingham or Doncaster or, God forbid, Nottingham "entertaining" broken humans at night and shuffling around DVD shops trying to complete their Steven Segal collection during the day. A couple of months ago at a weekend at The Comedy Cafe I asked Danny James if he was going to Edinburgh. He laughed and said "No, mate. I'm staying down here to clean up". "Clean up?", I replied. "Is that how you make money now?" So for people who aren't in Edinburgh but you feel like seeing something like the full Edinburgh Experience in your own studio flat, here's some reccomendations: Firstly, Johnny Candon bought a DVD by a stand up comedian called Dorothy Paul entitled Dorothy. This stand up and music set will truly give you the full Edinburgh Fringe Festival experience because the cancerous bitch that stars in it is such a boring arse-burn of immense magnitude that you will only watch Kick Me In The Head Repeatedly, I'm Karen Taylor happily for the rest of your life. Dorothy does a series of different, layered, creatively brilliant characters who can't speak and can only be differentiated by the different eye-rape of a frock she's wearing. We also watched a film called Hellzapoppin' which was made in 1941 and is so incredibly wonderful that it's description will only sully this blog with some sort of horrible positivity. It's amazing and you should watch it right now. Look it up on imdb.com.
I realised that yesterday I sort-of reviewed Portobello Pantomime: Somewhere Over The Westway like I'm some sort of fucking superior critic who has the right to say such things. I'm obviously not that superior a critic because I forgot to tell you about Mr. Bastard, one of the actors in the show. Mr. Bastard, his real name, was the stand-out performer in the show for me because I've never seen an actor play a role and, yet, let his own lack of personality puke through the character at the same time. He is such a cunt. He's irish and he can't do an irish accent. How is that possible? Genius! He also delievers the worst line of dialogue ever written: "I donner give a shish", which he recites like he's have a Downe's Syndrome stroke. Please go to see it.
Update on the story of Edinburgh: Yesterday, I saw Toilet in the Pleasance Courtyard but was actually too scared to talk to him. I think that still sits justifiably as part of the story. I mean, man doesn't like man, then man wants to get to know man but man's too shy to say anything, finally man plucks up courage and man finds man to be very nice, then man and man become best friends, then man gives man a punch in the neck and man laughs. That is still a fucking story. If you have any ideas as to what my opening line to Toilet should be then please let me know. I'm getting you to write it for me! How Mark fucking Watson am I?
09 Aug 2008
This Blog is Directed at Lionel Richie
Current mood: cooky/wacky
Last night's show was our best one so far. Sadly, I was shit in it but it was fun watching the others being so incredibly funny. I'm genuinely lucky to be working with such funny, talented, really great people night after night after fucking night. And I couldn't be happier about the show itself. It's going really well and people are telling me they liked it. I'm sure you've seen it or heard the buzz about it yourself. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if you were reading about our show RIGHT NOW.
Let's clear this up. I know I said bad things about a show that's running up here but it really wasn't all fucking embarrassingly tediously awful. Kerry Howard is great fun in it and the guy who plays the Bling Man (yeah, I know) is a great actor I saw in a play at the Hackney Empire last year. I also had a couple of gentle-ish digs at a sketch group in my last couple of blogs and I really had no right to as I had never seen them before. Now that I have seen them my comments are finally justified. Fucking Christ almighty, what were those bellends thinking? There wasn't a moment of their hour long show that I wasn't constantly relating to Elizabeth Fritzl and wishing 9/11 had happened to me instead of those blocks of flats in American. Apparently one of them actually really changed his name to Lionel Richie by deed poll. Does he have CUNT written on his forehead? No, he doesn't need to. Honestly, I can't really describe what happened in their show because I'm still in shock but, well, let's put it this way, it was, sort of, you know, like constantly being breathed on by The Rancor while your mum smiles and puts your dad's finger in you. 4 stars.
Incredibly, it wasn't the worst thing I saw in Edinburgh yesterday. That accolade belongs to a bunch of pikey looking dancers who were, you know, man, just warming up in the middle of the fucking coffee area of Bristow Square. You know, man, they were just so free and at one with themselves that they just thought it was fine to be utter pretentious, fitter-than-me cuntrapes and just do a totally spontaneous and utterly tedious dance routine in a public area where people are trying to relax and come to terms with the abortion of a sketch show they've just seen. I mean, really, why do people think they can just do a dance routine in public? Hello? Did I miss a meeting? Yes, I did and it's not called a meeting, it's a rehearsal. They were all such cunts....except two of them. They weren't dancing like twats in public. No! They were busy massaging each other in public. TIRESOME.
I also did The Stand's Best of Irish were I saw the incredible Bernard O'Shea and afterwards saw an amazing show by Count Arthur Strong. Can I please persuade you to vote for Isabel Fay who's got through to the final of Nivea's Funny Women competion because she's incredibly funny but mainly because she seems a bit embarrassed about it. The tag line of Nivea's Funny Women is ridiculously "Comedy is Beauty" which totally explains why Nuts Magazine's Funniest Man Competition's tag line is "Comedy is Too Spineless To Buy Pornography".
10 Aug 2008
Folding someone’s actual face.
Current mood: groggy
Category: Pets and Animals
Ah, what an audience we had last night. Drunk? Fuck me dead, yes! As soon as the show started a group of people decided that that was a great time to start talking, then people wandered in late during the second sketch, then two people wandered out early during the third sketch (I tried to leave with them) and then a cartoon of a Scottish drunk fell asleep in the front row. They all certainly put the turd into saturday night in Edinburgh. On a big plus side, we had about eight 65 year-old's in all sat together behind Dan Tetsell, the creator of Nicholas Lyndhurst. As soon as the light's went down at the beginning he heard one old lady say "I can't believe they've done a show about Daniel O'Donnell". We didn't stand a chance.
I saw some really great things yesterday. Stefan UnprounouncablenamefromBigCountry Talks About A Girl He Once Loved is excellent and nowhere near as schmaltzy as it looks but the big highlight for me yesterday was seeing Scott Capurro at the After Hours Show. He's just so genuinely controversial and confrontational and the point he's making is pretty obvious if you'd care to see it. Luckily, most of the audience did get the point and, even luckier, one man in the audience didn't. Scott basically took the word 'cunt' and smashed the man's teeth in with it.
Pretty much my favourite part of Edinburgh is finding flyers and folding them. Folding a fellow performers face so it looks like they're deformed has long been a hobby of mine during trips to the fringe. I'm off to be stared at by a bunch of free-loading fuckwits at Fringe Sunday now so let me leave you with some faces I folded yesterday.
Er....sadly for Myspace users you're going to have to look me up on Facebook to see these. Sorry.
11 Aug 2008
I am going to fight Tim Key.
Current mood: breezy
Category: Food and Restaurants
Last night's Clock Hour was fantastic. An audience that got it right from the word go. Plus "Thanks for turning up. We've got The Internet in tonight" is now my favourite new line. Well done, Zoe, and sorry for stealing it.
Yesterday I went out of my fucking mind and compered the God-awful, piss-poor, pointless dickery that is Fringe Sunday. Minge Sunday, I call it (HA HA HA HA, HAVE AT YOU!). It's basically a load of tight-fisted Earth Mothers and Real Ale Inventors sitting in a tent that insists rain passes through it while watching a bunch of cunts. It has to be said Steven Grant was full of Fringe Spirit (a drink I wouldn't touch) and the 400-odd people there really loved him. I wish I could find it in myself to be arsed to do as well as he did because he looked like he was really having fun. Remember fun? It used to be on in the middle of Magpie, I think. Anyway, Steven was really good as were a few other comics. Sarah Millican is excellent. But I turned up soaked, hungover and furious only to be told that we're over running so if I could just get the acts on and off that would be great, yeah? What's the fucking point in me being there then, you peace-loving, water-drinking, naturally organic CUNTS?
After The Clock Hour nothing short of a miracle happened. I'm so happy to write this and tell you about it because it looks like my Edinburgh story arc is starting to really happen. Last night....TOILET SPOKE TO ME. I've never felt so nervous in my life, it was like bumping into an old boyfriend while I've got no make-up on. He said some really nice things about the show and...get this... he said HE'D SEE ME AROUND! I'm so excited! I wonder where we'll go and what adventures we'll have? I told Marissa last night that at some point during Edinburgh I have to ask him to come to see a film with me then during the film I'm going to just subtly slightly touch his hand with my own. How long before he'll pull away? Will he pull away? Won't it be shit if he doesn't? I'm VERY excited.
My joy didn't and couldn't last long, of course, because a few moments later I saw Tim Key. I've met Tim Key a few times and he's always seemed nice and anytime I've seen him on stage I've always found him really funny but last night, for no reason, he just walked in with a beard. Like butter wouldn't fucking melt. He was acting like it was all ok to have a beard, which is ridiculous. Now, thanks to him, I've lost all rationality and hate the hair on the face of a man I barely know. At one point I saw him stroking it like he was thinking. Bollocks. Even if he's growing it to play the part of David Bellamy in that film everyone's talking about, it's still a fucking insult. I now have no choice but to fight him. I know I'm crap at fighting and he'll almost certainly beat me up but he has left me with little option. If he thinks he can Kitson around with a pretenious fanny on his face then I'm coming out with a Broadsword and a goblet of mead; I'm going to get medieval on his ass.
Today is Johnny Candon's day off and it's nice to see him getting a lie in this morning. There are only two things that are weird about sharing a flat with Johnny. The first one is that he sleeps with the door open, the second is that he sleeps above his duvet and naked. I feel a bit sick today.
12 Aug 2008
Oh Fuck, I’m Richard Herring.
Current mood: knighted
Last night's show was fantastic. Even better than the previous night's show. In fact, it was so amazing that near the end of it I turned 40. It was really nice to have Richard Vranch in the audience because the Comedy Store Players were my big introduction to live comedy and when he said nice things about the show it made me feel like my Father had finally stopped beating me. He's a very nice man. He also told me that he's getting married soon (congratulations) to someone who is 25 years old. He told me this with a smile wider than the Cheshire Cat's! Christ, that was a bit daytime Radio 4. Why did I write that? Do you become a cunt the day you turn 40?
Anyhoo, this will be a quick blog because I want to go out and celebrate. I'm very happy that some people are reading my little blog and even happier to hear last night that the Scotsman are interested in publishing it. All I have to do is cut down on the swearing and make it slightly more positive. Actually, all I really have to do is tell the Scotsman to CUNT OFF. If they really think that I'd ever stoop to writing for a newspaper that gives someone like Brendon Burns a fucking two-star review then they can fuck off and then fuck off again. I mean, why the extra star? You sycophantic cunts.
Robin Ince just phoned me, said "You stupid old man" and then hung up. That might be the funniest thing I've seen in Edinburgh. I'd like to thank Bennett Arron for his help in this blog.
13 Aug 2008
Current mood: argumentative
Category: School, College, Greek
Last night's show was pretty good. Very giggly because Jeremy kept making me laugh by screaming his lines instead of saying them. The only way to keep the scene together was to tell him to fuck off. It seemed to work. The best thing about the show last night was our guest star. I normally play the part of Murder the Butler in one of the sketches but last night the role was perfected by Fletcher, my actual butler.
Yesterday, Paul Litchfield, from The Pros from Dover and The Trap, helped celebrate my 40th birthday by hiring me a butler for the day. It's way up there as one of the best presents I've ever been given. I realised not long after having Fletcher in my service that power corrupts me. I got him to push Johnny Candon, to slap Des Clarke and to introduce himself to Paul Merton as Mr. Legge's butler. It was a very satisfying day. I asked him the time and when he said "4.45" I screamed "Not now. In 10 minutes." at him. Sure enough, in 10 minutes he told me the time. I did the Avis Sherman story at Lucy & Des Show Off and Fletcher accompanied me on stage simply to hold the book that I read from. He served me drinks, booked a table at a restaurant and carried my crap pretty much all day. I am now used to it and look down my nose at all you butler-less cunts like the festering scum you all are.
I'm really making a big effort to not get into any shows this year and so far it's going really well. Due to shows selling out, I've been turned away from Time Vine's show 5 times which is very frustrating, Issy Suttie's show twice which is really annoying,and Pappy's Fun Club once which is fine. I've also managed to be unable to get into Will & Greg, Kerry Godliman and Tommy & The Weeks. Not only do these people not want me to see them but they're rubbing my nose in it by being really successful. I hope they all get AIDS and become Maddie. There I said what you're all thinking.
It's our day off today, even though I'm compering The Stand's Best of Irish. I wonder what shows I'll be told to fuck off from today? By the way, did I tell you I got 4 Daleks yesterday? Well, I did. It doesn't make up for Toilet not saying Happy Birthday though.....
14 Aug 2008
Current mood: busy
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
I want to do a lot of complaining today but just don't have the time. I want to complain about how cunty the Pleasance are if you run 5 minutes over even if you're the last show on that day. I want to complain about reviews and, more importantly, reviewers and then complain about wanting to see a particular comedian for 10 years only to find out he was shit and then I want to moan about how Toilet has gone straight back to ignoring me and therefore is ruining my feelgood story of Edinburgh. I don't have time today so it'll have to be tomorrow. Fucking stupid time.
Here's some positive things instead. I saw Where's Yak? yesterday and found it very funny indeed. It's a clever mix of very surreal, unexpectedly brilliant lines and something for special children, therefore I loved it. See it at 2pm at The Counting House. It's free. I also saw Lewis Schaffer who was amazing. If you like your political rants peppered with Anti-McCann's sentiment then you can do no other than Lewis Schaffer, Lewis Schaffer.
I'm off. Expect upsetting grumpiness tomorrow.
15 Aug 2008
Current mood: argumentative
Category: Pets and Animals
We've got 10 days to go and, I'll be honest, I'm starting to feel a bit worn out. I don't mind the late nights and the drinking and the doing three gigs a day things but I'm not sure how long I can take everyone else who is up here. If they would all just fuck off and leave me on my own I think this festival would be very nearly perfect. Honestly, if I get one more fat tranny walking up to me in the street and shoving a leaflet into my eye I'll rape them. And not in a good way. Actually, worse than fat trannies are those tiny little cuntfucks you normally see at circuses and pantomimes; children. Fucking 12 year olds who come up to you while you're innocently fuming your way up Cunt Street (Royal Mile), and try to actually perform part of their play that they've been forced into, need to be put up against a wall and poisoned. I was approached yesterday by some underage prick with shit on his face and wearing very clean rags saying "Will ye be free te see me play, teday, me squire?" The little accident didn't know the meaning of the word seriouslyjustfuckoffimmediately. And when I told him that I had just come out of jail for multiple child-related sex crimes, he thought I was joking. I was lying, yes, but I wasn't joking.
Speaking of children who deserve to be our sexual playthings, let's talk about reviewers. Why the fuck do bog-rolls like The List, Three Weeks and The List again insist on using teenagers to review shows up here? Of course, they don't get it, they don't get anything, because NOTHING has happened to them yet. How on earth can they possibly review a play about love when the nearest they've got to love is rubbing up against another depressed abortion-wannabe at a My Chemical Romance gig? How can they review a stand-up comedian's show about world war when the only war they can relate to is the one inside their own lonely, self-obsessed head? How can they review The Clock Hour when they are a ball-aching cunt? I actually have a lot more to say about the reviewer but it's all been spoiled by the Metro giving us 4-stars yesterday. Thanks for that, Metro. You've ruined everything!
The show yesterday was very good. I'm very lucky to be working with the four brilliant people in the show, they certainly know how to be extra stunning on the nights when I'm very much not. Last night was one of those nights. A bit depressing really. I knew from the beginning that I wasn't clicking with the audience and I lost all my bottles. It was OK when I was in the sketches but being Avis was a cunt and a half last night. I need to stop listening to other people's advice because, although they mean well and are only thinking of me, they're morons. I did Best of Irish yesterday and for once just put aside the fact that I'm the least Irish Irish person ever and just enjoyed the gig. It turned out great, I was very happy. I also did The Late Show after The Clock Hour and...fucking hell, this is really sounding like a comedians blog. This will NEVER happen again. Did I tell you that I saw a comedian the other day that I had been dying to see for over 10 years? He was fucking appalling. It was like Carrot-Top had forgotten all his props. Fucking hyped piece of shit.
Until tomorrow, bile bile for now.
16 Aug 2008
Current mood: hot
What's the fucking point of a comedy competition? Who in their right mind would get into comedy so they could win an award? What a soul-less, pointless, insulting exercise it is and none more so than the aren't-girls-pretty load of shit that is Nivea's Funny Women. A woman who is funny shouldn't be a shock to the system but some people feel the need that we should give a funny person a crap trophy and some make-up money just because they're bollock-free. Luckily, a lot of female performers saw this too and dropped out of the competition. I know that Isabel Faye dropped out because she has more dignity and Watson & Oliver dropped out because it was for the best. So good for them. The winner was Janey Godley which proves how mad this competion is. I'm not saying Janey's not a funny woman, I'm simply saying she has a penis.
But this industry is full of idiotic ideas idiotically thought out by idiots. Idiots rule this business. Yesterday, a lobotomised prick from Avalon, a producer no less, told me how much she'd love to see the show I'm in because she liked the big swirly piano on the poster. When I pointed out the the big swirly thing on The CLOCK Hour poster was a fucking clock she said "Well, I didn't really pay attention to it, but I really liked it". And that's how Avalon get all their acts.
I'm very sweaty in this internet cafe so must now leave. Sorry.
18 Aug 2008
One Careless Lazy Arsehole.
Current mood: crunk
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Yesterday did not start well. Basically, the first thing I did when I woke up was to wipe comedian Johnny Candon's congealed shit off the top of the toilet seat. I don't know how many of you have had to wipe Johnny Candon's congealed shit off the top of a toilet seat before but for those few who haven't, trust me, it's very unpleasant. I know that men famously occassionally miss the toilet when urinating due to our hilarious penises but Johnny's ability to miss the toilet with his fucking arse beggars belief. And the most horrible thing about wiping Johnny Candon's congealed shit off a toilet seat was the depressing realisation that this is not the worst thing that has ever happened to me. How's that for dark?
Well, we've just started the final week of Edinburgh. The show is going well and people are turning up to see it. You can't ask for much more than that. I mean, Michael McIntyre did last year when he screamed at one of the if.com judges/pricks because he didn't win their funny man present, but I'm not going to stoop to that. Don't get me wrong, it must be horrible to be as ignored as Michael McIntyre is, especially when you have as much talent as he has, but screaming about it won't help (unless you're BrendAn Burns). In fact, Michael is just as funny off-stage as he is on, unfortunately. The last time I saw him he walked up to me and said in a cod-Irish accent "Michael Legge! No Surrender! Top O' the mornin'". What a funny, funny, fat faced, fame-addicted, stunted, "STAR of Have I Got News For You", media-felating, looky-me, shoe-wearing cunt he is. But he is not alone (well, he is, no-one likes him) because up here everyone is feeling the tention of the last week as this week is AWARD WEEK! Imagine; you too could write and rehearse a piece of art, art that you really love and poured your heart into and crafted and honed down to what you thought could be a comminicative connection between yourself and an audience only to bend it over and rape it because you allowed it to be put into a competition. Let's face it, if you win the Perrier/If.com award, you'll be following the greats; Simon Fanshawe, Ben Keaton, Laura Solon and all the other household names that sold themselves for...well, whatever it was they sold themselves for. Don't really know why I'm complaining, I'll never get nominated. And, obviously, if I do, this gets deleted. A bit like Simon Fanshawe, Ben Keat...etc.
I've seen a few more shows that I really liked in the last few days. Best of which was Scott Capurro's show at the Underbelly. If there's a better stand-up working in the UK today then there isn't. He's utterly brilliant and he's definitely not for everyone which makes him more utterly brilliant. I can't wait to see him not get nominated due to talent. I also saw Kerry Godliman's show which I loved, she's effortlessly funny. You should see that, you should. Tommy and The Weeks Show was lots of fun. Ed Weeks is my new you-should-see-him-he's-funny person. They obviously work well together but Ed doesn't look like he should be funny so when he says his funny lines it's even funnier. Does that make sense? Anyway, this blog is getting far too positive. Time for some warm Irn-Bru and some deep-fried fat, see you later.
19 Aug 2008
Current mood: grumpy
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
What is this new Edinburgh thing of having to go to the bar to buy your own drink? About 10 times since I've been up here I've bought a round and when it comes time for the fucking leech to buy theirs (if they fucking bother) then they say "Can I give you the money and you go to the bar yourself?". FUCK RIGHT OFF. If you're not going to buy me a drink then just don't buy me a drink (I'm used to it up here, tight fisted pikey bastards) but don't ask me to go myself. When did this sort of behaviour seem OK? I am obligated to say CUNTS.
Joke-E-Oke. Heard of it? Me neither, but I was deeply unfortunate enough to meet the two American, giggling spastics who run and host this "show". They were both pissed out of their special-needs minds the other night at the Gilded Balloon and they felt it was absolutely fine to not only hand me a flyer about their fucking haemorrhage but also to tell me all about how hilarious it is. I'll warn you now, it isn't hilarious. The idea, like it's creators, is a fucking prick; an ordinary member of the very ordinary public stands on stage looking at a screen that scrolls a piece of classic stand-up comedy and that ordinary person reads it out ordinarily. What a night out that must be. I'd rather boil my own plums than sit through a second of that. The flyer, honestly, even boasts that the show features classic material from Sam Kinison, George Carlin and Harry Enfield. WHAT? The dickheads finally left me alone after I read the flyer out loud at them. "It's the hit of the San Francisco club scene". "No, it isn't" I said, "The hit of the San Francisco club scene is buggery". One of them genuinely and pathetically replied, "Why does everyone keep saying that?"
I saw two great shows yesterday. Krapp's Last Tape is a truly moving but funny piece all about loneliness and, importantly, the silence of constantly being alone. Well done, the cuntingly awful rock opera in the next room who tried their best but couldn't spoil this fantastic play. Fucking Assembly Rooms cunts. Then I saw John Gordillo's Divide and Conga, a fantastic piece of stand-up. He taught me everything I know. That's just a warning. I'm at the Best of Irish at The Stand today. Come down. Oh, and there's only 6 Clock Hour's left to go...
20 Aug 2008
Tom Hughes is a fucking twat.
Current mood: Not Racist
Category: Not Racist Pets and Animals
Yesterday a little Edinburgh golden moment happened to me. It was really lovely. Four years ago John Voce and I took our show, The Conversation, to Edinburgh and during our run a critic called Tom Hughes gave us a one-star review on Chortle. Leap to 2008 (yesterday at about 3.30), I went to Robin Ince's Book Club and saw an extremely funny comedian who pretended to be Brian Blessed, the brilliant Johnny Candon, the glorious Sarah Bennetto and a very, very unfunny prick. This arse-disease of a man took to the stage and immediately turned my blood to flame by basically stealing from Josie Long and pretending that everything in the world is so amazing and twee-ing out a load of fucking wow!-isn't-Ballamory-a-brilliant-tv-show bullshit that you'll wish Hitler had done us all a favour and killed everyone four times. Who was this pathetically wet mangina? None other than ex-Chortle critic Tom Hughes. It goes without saying, I hope, that I thanked him for the one-star review and told him what I thought of his stage-mess. He went red and said "Sorry. I didn't know as much about comedy as I do now". I pointed out that that was impossible and he left. I feel we're now evens and I'm now ready to be Tom's best friend if ever he will allow me. John Voce still thinks he's a cunt.
Later that night I became racist. At least I think I did. Is this racist? I went into the loo at Brooke's Bar and the only two other people in there were two black gentlemen. One pointed to me and said to his friend "Now, this guy loves chocolate". I'll admit, dear reader, that I thought "Fuck, I'm going to get raped". Is that racist? I didn't mean it to be. The guy then explained that he'd seen The Clock Hour, which has a chocolate-based sketch (sort of). So, you see, it all turned out nice. Not all black people are awful, well done, guys. Thumbs up. (Just in case you DID think that was racist, I just checked with Paul Litchfield. He said it's OK.)
This blog has just depressed me because I realised that yesterday I did fuck all. 5 shows to go, people. Bye bye.
21 Aug 2008
Who Will Win the Debt Collectors Sponsored Comedy Present?
Current mood: sleepy
And the nominals have been announced for this year's If.Comedy Award and, as a result, I am furious. How did these talentless purveyors of arsery get shortlisted for such an incredibly prestigious and morally suspect award? Look at the names; Rhod Gilbert, a man who has to steal an accent from genuine Welshmen like Mark Watson or the poof from Little Britain. David O'Doherty, pissing whimsy once again into his magical pot o'comedy. Russell Kane, who, judging by every picture you ever see of him, has only been photographed once. And finally Kristen Schaal, who has the same accent as Robert Shaw's fingernails did in the blackboard scene from Jaws. I'm sure they're all over the moon to know that their art has been judged and approved by Intelligent Finance, a mortgage company and creator of poor people. Maybe they can take all the nominee's egos and consolidate them into one easy to manage super-ego? They did it last year. Right, BrendAn?
So, today I went to City Cafe, mainly because you have no idea how much I want toast right now. But City Cafe is not the place to go to if you like frivolous things like service, courtesy or a cafe. It's a fucking ball-hole. Today I only had to wait for half an hour before the 7 year old walking semen that runs the place came over to take my order, but before I've had to wait days before any of the staff would notice me. Or anyone. Or anything. City Cafe is something of an Edinburgh instituion but then so is heroin and fighting. At least when you fight while taking heroin there is a slim chance of getting some food, not so when you go to City Cafe. Then, when your lottery number comes up and they actually feed you, they forget how to add things up so you have to wait even longer on the bill arriving. It's like a cafe run by a 1000 Patrick Monaghan's. All you do is wait and wait and wait and, in the end, it's fucking disgusting. But I really, really fancied toast so I had to go. 3 stars.
I've been awake too long so let me plug some things and go back to bed. I saw Johnny Candon's One Careless Lady Owner for the fourth time. It's changed a lot. He has, by far, the best gag at the fringe and his show is pretty solid. It's even nearly an hour long! Also, I saw Rob Heeney's No Pressure last night. Very slick indeed and, hey, it's free. Go see them then. Bedtime now.
22 Aug 2008
Current mood: bored
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Let's start off with something nice. I'm in my favourite Edinburgh internest cafe right now. It costs twice as much as some of the others and I had to walk through the pissing rain to get here but it's all worth it as this is the only internest cafe that I have ever been to that is totally run by children. Not young adults; children. Proper little kids. And they are the politest children you could ever meet. This place is called 5 Star Mobile. It's very strange.
Last night we had our lowest audience count yet by some incredible margin. Luckily, they were really nice, even though I felt I was ruining the whole show by constantly going on about Sketchatron. I went on and on about Sketchatron for a good reason though. Sketchatron is a a show featuring several different sketch groups all doing their very best material, it's even billed as "the best of the sketch shows at the Pleasance". The fucking cheeky cunts. Were we invited to perform? No, fucking way. And what time was this show on? Yep, same time as ours. If that's not the biggest "Fuck you, we have your money" from the Pleasance then I'd hate to think what is. It costs about £10,000 to put on a show here at the cunting Pleasance and they also take ALL of the box office profits, then on top of that they tell you that you're not as good as Fucking Idiots of Fucking Ants. They are thieving cunts. On top of all this they say every year that they never make a profit. Hmmmm.... £10,000 per show, 8 shows per room, 25 rooms per venue.....That's £960,000+ box office. Well, where the fuck is this money going? Not only that, it's the smuggest, most overly-worthy place here at the festival, and that's saying something. Mind you, they did give us a bottle of home-made wine that was sieved through Christopher Richardson's dead dog's colon a week after we arrived, so they're not all bad.
Every time I come to Edinburgh I love it. I enjoy all the excitement of being up here to the full and get pissed off with the jaded fuckers who complain that they're bored and want to go home. This year is different. I am now a jaded fucker who wants to go home. I am sooooooooo bored. The same fucking tedious thing every day in the same tedious fucking place with the same tedious fucking people in the same tedious fucking rain. Last night, this thought was raped home to me by my patronage of the So You Think You're Funny? party. Free booze is all well and good but getting stuck in a shouting-conversation with the least funny Lionel Richie while being hilariously fingered by Dan March as Dont'Cha by The Pussycat Trannies is injected into my ear is not my idea of a fun night. I went home to sit alone and write poetry. You'd be surprised at how many words rhyme with cunts. Toilet wasn't even there. It's only a few days to go so I must befriend him soon. Brookes tonight, then.
Can you tell that I'm not sleeping well?
23 Aug 2008
Can I interest you in my ego?
Current mood: tired
Only two more shows to go here at Edinburgh's glorious money festival. I'm all grumpy about being up here now but I know this time next week I'll really miss it. Not the people, of course, they're awful, but just the general drinking and performing and drinking while performing and being drunk while performing and shouting at my own performance. I'll miss all that.
I've really been noticing other people's flyers for their shows recently. They're fucking grim. I saw one flyer for a show at Peter Buckley Hill's Free Breakdown that made the cardinal sin of having a photo of the "performer" standing in front of The Comedy Store sign. You fucking little prick. You did an open spot and you know someone with a camera. Big shitting whoop. The flyer also boasted an incredible press quote that the rest of us mere humans would have deleted rather than print it on something that was supposed to be publicising us. It made no fucking sense: "Surely worthy of five stars" ****- Three Weeks. Jesus wept. My favourite quote on a flyer is from an act who is appearing at the Stand. It made me howl with laughter when I read it: "He certainly has some jokes I wish I'd written" - Ed Byrne. Not that funny in itself, granted, but printed just below the quote was this: "THINK YOU KNOW MORE THAN ED BYRNE? I F***ING DOUBT IT". Egotism and cowardice all in one? Ambassador, you're spoiling us. If you're going to swear then swear. No-one is offended by the spelling of a word, for fuck's sake. Loads of comedians are using quotes from other comedians up here this year. Just looking at all the posters and flyers up here has made Jimmy Carr out to be a charlatan and a liar. It appears he thinks about 8 different shows are the funniest thing he's seen at the fringe and about 12 different performers are "genius'". Pick one, Jimmy. Stop playing with us. I even saw a flyer with a quote from Robin Ince on it. I'll definitely go to see that show now that I know it has the approval of the shifty looking man who nearly played Stuart Foot in The Office for five seconds.
I had 4 hours sleep last night. I got back just as daylight started and woke up not long after because Johnny Candon was trying to break the world record for shouting into a mobile phone as well as limbering up for an upcoming door slamming competition. I only saw Toilet for half a second yesterday but I now have a foolproof plan that will ensure he'll become my lifelong friend. If I can stay awake tonight, Toilet and I should be the best of buddies by tomorrow morning...
24 Aug 2008
Wham!: The Final
Current mood: energetic
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Christ, I've woke up all funny today. It's the last show tonight and I'm all excited about what "last night larks" we're going to get up to. I know Paul is planning on putting his own shit into Margaret's pocket and Jeremy has dropped the odd hint that he's going to blow his own brains out during the Anniversary sketch, so tonight shough be HIGH-larious. It's the last night, so if you haven't seen the show yet, you're a cunt.
The if.comedy awards party was held last night and, obviously, I shunned it due to it's lack of morals and I didn't really know where it was. In the invitation I recieved it billed itself as "The Unofficial Oscars of Comedy". Well, everything in the world is the unofficial oscars of comedy if you say it is, you fucking parasitic creators of the homeless. It's also the "Unofficial Olympics of Comedy" and the "Unofficial Moors Murderers of Comedy" and the "Unofficial Jade Goody Will Die In Three Months of Comedy" if you want it to be. Fucking pointless. What it definitely is is the officially most embarrassing thing about the Edinburgh Fringe, which is an incredible achievement in itself. Having an award sponsored by a finance company? How extremely un-cool is that? Isn't that like having your Bank Manager hanging out with you for the rest of your fucking life? That said, David O'Doherty and Sarah Millican are both excellent and their talents deserve to be applauded but maybe by a better company. Can't Arrested Development Series Two on DVD sponsor the award next year?
I'm at the Best of Irish today for the last time and The Clock Hour has it's last show tonight at 11pm. This blog will close tomorrow.
25 Aug 2008
Current mood: happy
A couple of days ago I blogged about flyers and their egotistical press quotes but I forgot one of my absolute favourites. Luckily, an eagle eyed, handsome reader reminded me of it. Dan March's My iTunes Baby has a great quote on it's poster; "Can't wait to see it"-Adam Hills. Hilarious. Not only is the quote saying I HAVEN'T SEEN THIS but it's also the opinion of a man without a foot. In summary, Dan March's show has not been seen by someone who is not all there. Brillianty.
Thanks all of you for your congratulations for me winning the If.Comedy Award this year. It certainly came as the world's most boring surprise to me, I can tell you and have done. For those very few people who don't know, the cunts at if.comedy gave the Panel Prize (normally awarded to Mark Watson or some other person who will force their own grandmother into an envelope for fame) to every performer at the Edinburgh Fringe. You lazy, insulting cock-burns. My undying respect to Richard Herring who immediately asked for his £20 of the £4000 award money. Basically, what this mortgage lending nightmare are saying is this; NONE OF YOU IMPRESS US. I have never felt prouder of my talents. And another thing, DON'T put "Winner of the if.comedy award 2008" on your poster next year. As the beautiful, warm, missing-her-boyfriend, lonely, mum-to-be Margaret Cabourn-Smith said "That's what they want you to do". She may be a paranoid husk but I think she's got a point. If.comedy written EVERYWHERE? You can't buy that publicity but, apparently, you can steal it.
This is my last Edinburgh blog and I feel I would have cheated you if I left you without a satisfactory ending to my story. At the beginning of this blog (or thereabouts) I vowed that I would become best friends with Toilet, a man who was VERY friendly with me a few years ago but ever since only says Hello when he feels like it. It's a pretty insulting feeling but he appears to be a man so heavily wrapped in his own ego that that sort of thing would hardly matter. I'll be honest, I have failed in becoming his friend and last night was my last chance. It didn't happen. I even saw him leave the building before I got the chance to talk to him. But then something deeply beautiful happened. Before he left, he turned back. He came right up to me. He put his hand on my trembling shoulder. He looked into my loving eyes and he said........"I enjoy your vitriol". Friends, TOILET READS MY BLOG!!!!! I couldn't be happier! I don't know why he ignores me but I don't care anymore because he's been paying me attention without me knowing about it. He...he...knows who I am. I am registered by Toilet! Dear Readers, my story has an ending and it's beautiful. I love you, Toilet, and now I know that you love me! I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night and still have begged for more.......
Thanks for looking at my angry little notes and even bigger thanks if you actually came to see The Clock Hour. I have really loved doing the show. It was packed with brilliant jokes that I looked forward to every night and it was packed with the greatest people in the world. Not a trace of the cunting ego that Edinburgh inevitably inspires. Genuine thanks to Zoe, Margaret, Paul, Jeremy, Miriam & Ben who all make me very happy indeed. Thanks again and again to Muki who, quite rightly, forced us to do this and to Christian who worked damned hard at getting us an audience and he succeeded brilliantly, none of us are easy to sell but he got us people in so he must have told some excellent bullshit. Thanks sincerely, Christian. If you're still reading this, I'd finally like to thank all our flyerers. They went way beyond the call of duty day after day and we would have been royally screwed without them. They are the best people at the fringe by a huge margin and I love them. Finally, (are you still here?) thanks to everyone at Prospero, for all their help. I barely saw them but I know we got some good reviews so they did their job, ta very muchly.
Thus endeth The Clock Hour. If you have enjoyed the blog, I have been Michael Legge. If you haven't enjoyed the blog, then YOU have been Michael Legge and you all write a blog that you HATE. Goodnight.
28 Aug 2008
My Two Haircuts.
Current mood: tired
Category: Web, HTML, Tech
Don't you think it's a bit wimpy that angry, political, shouty Doug Stanhope has just done a gig called the Pimms Summerfest? FUCK YOU, BUSH! I'M GONNA OPEN UP AN ALRESCO CAN OF WHUPPASS JUST FOR YOU as soon as I've finished my lovely picnic. Stanhope plays Pimms? Wrong. That's an establishment handshake on the scale of George Carlin playing the Republican Party Conference or BrendAn Burns accepting an award from a mortgage lender and then playing the Assembly Rooms. Which would NEVER happen.
Good to see that Edinburgh Fringe fuck-nut Jon Morgan has quit his job as festival director after only one year. Basically, he's a bit embarrassed because the ZX Spectrum that he programmed to run the box office kept crying but he says that the real reason he's quitting is because "the role of fringe director has taken (him) away from his first love" which is, apparently, not being a useless Edinburgh Fringe fuck-nut. Actually, is it libelous to say that Jon Morgan's first love is fingering children and photographing it? Really? Oh well, luckily this is only on a computer and he can't work them so he'll never know. The snap-happy old paedo!
The fringe has been over three days and I can't figure out if I'm missing it or I'm just bored because I'm still not home. I'm in Glasgow to play four nights at the excellent Stand Comedy Club but, good as it is, I'm going mad with boredom during the day. So far I've watched four shit films; Jumper (bollocks), Forgetting Sarah Marshall (embarrassing), Definitely Maybe (pointless) and Bee Movie (cunt). Just today I ventured out of my room to see Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Everything George Lucas does is a fucking dissappointment these days but, thankfully, due to The Clone Wars being just dull we fans can still successfully say "The Phantom Menace is still the worst Star Wars film ever made". It's a kids film but it still has that very recognisable George Lucas wit running through it so it should appeal to drastically retarded children too. The most exciting thing I've done in Glasgow just happened a couple of hours ago; I had two haircuts. I had to. After playing Avis Sherman in The Clock Hour every night I decided it was time to get rid of my mad hair so I went to a proper oldy-worldy barbershop. Sadly, the barber was an oldy-worldy mad old cunt. He was furious that I wanted a haircut, a bad sign from any barber, and his shouting at me made me feel tense. He then decided to relax me by telling me that a woman died in his shop recently and that he still feels drunk from last night. While starting to cut my hair he then went on to say that he thought that Gary Glitter shouldn't have shaved his beard off or had sex with children. Funny order of priorities. After a few minutes I said I loved what he'd done to my hair (nothing) paid him £6 and left. I then went to a "salon" where my hair was successfully shaved by a scottish woman who had never heard of Scotland.
Don't know if I'll bother going out tomorrow. I'm working with Tom Stade and Andy White tonight. They better be shit or I'll have nothing to blog tomorrow.
29th August 2008
Drunk & Live!!!!!
Current mood: drunk
Hello everyone. I feel like I have to be a bit nicer to you. Mainly because two Idiots of Ants fans used their chunky fingers to write their anger at me because I mentioned their idols in a blog that no-one but them reads but also because the very few comedians that read this seem a tad upset over nothing.
Let me start properly. This blog is entirely influenced by the fantastic Collings & Herrin podcast in as much as in Edinburgh they recorded their very first ever live podcast in front of a loving audience, and as a response I am writing my very first ever drunk blog. I am very drunk indeed and feel like I could swoon at the sight of nothing, much like an Idiots of Ants fan. (THAT IS A JOKE).
My main (drunken) beef is this; WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH COMEDIUANS? Yeah, there might not be a U in comedians but that's how this drunk blog rolls, motherfuckerman. Yesterday, I wrote a stupid blog mentioning the American equivilent of Paul Foot, Doug Stanhope. Apparently, he is Jesus and you can't make fun of Jesus no matter how superfluous Jesus' shouting is. The thing is, he seems like a really good comic but other lesser good comics think of him as like, maybe not Jesus, but as a really nice Hitler. They worship him and feel they need to tell me about it because I dared to make a joke about a comedian. Two comics left messages on my blog (I don't think one was as adjuration filled as the other) and I respect that they gave their opinions but 5 other comics sent Facebook messages instead. Very cowardly and the people in question shall remain nameless (no, they will, they're going NOWHERE). I'm sorry if I've upset you by pointing out that a very good political, anti-establishment comedian has fully decided on his own to link his name to a drink that makes Blush wine sound butch but I just thought it was funny. You know, a joke. Remember them? They were here a long time before shouting at politicians you didn't understand ever were. The even funnier thing is that Stanhope, to give him his full name, went on stage drunk. NO-ONE gets drunk on Pimms. That drink is the definition of the word squiffy, but drunk? No fucking way. I remember a time when comedians liked jokes and made jokes and weren't offended by anything and certainly didn't worship anyone in fear of making fun of them. It was yesterday before those 5 cunts wrote to me. Maybe I should use my maturity and not get upset by them and just delete their spineless messages. Maybe.
I am drunk.
30 Aug 2008
Current mood: happy
Category: Fashion, Style, Shopping
Well, I was about to totally give up but Adrian Rox coming out of retirement to say "Keep on keeping on" was all the inspiration I needed to blog the shit out of the internet one more time. High five, Adrian!
I think it's fair to say that I'm in a pretty good mood today. I'm happy because Scotland is a beautiful country and it's an amazing place to spend five long, long weeks in but mostly I'm happy because tomorrow at 7.50am I will be leaving Scotland FOREVERish. Sure, I'll miss the deep fried Irn-Bru, the complete lack of customer service and the Scottish comedians who get standing ovations for mentioning a street in Aberdeen I've never heard of. But after a while, even those three baffling things loose their shitty, shitty sheen. So, it'll be nice to go home so that I can miss the wee bonnie, bonnie land one more time, are ye Ken? (I think that's the phrase)
One thing I'll miss about as much as the food is my lovely room at the Ibis. My view out the window is a big fucking brick wall, the wardrobe and bathroom are the same thing and here "Do Not Disturb" means "For The Love Of God, Will All Of You Knuckle-Dragging Vocabulary-Free Hunchbacks, Please, Disturb Me As Much As You Fucking Can?" That said, I've just finished watching No Country For Old Men while lying in bed so that was good. I liked the bit were Woody Harrellson wasn't in it. It's such an utterly tense and violent film and Javier Bardem is my new favourite foreign man film star. He's like a young Ralph Macchio. No, hang on. I've still got the spirit of the fringe; He's like Ralph Macchio on acid!
The Stand was very good last night but I thought I was a bit shit, to be honest. The audience seemed to like me but I felt I was just annoying. Andy White was excellent and John Gordillo made me actually a bit depressed. He was so good and all I'd been doing was hacking my arse off to please the drunks. I'm feeling very hack at the moment but it's something I'm slowly but surely trying to iron out. I haven't given out Pot Noodles for weeks so that's a step in the right direction. John's so at ease on stage and so confident with his stories that it's a pleasure to watch. What's not a pleasure is listening to the whining little pretentious cunt telling us how shit he was afterwards. Plus today he left a message on my voicemail and he called himself Gord. Gord is a nickname. If either me or John Gordillo is going to give John Gordillo a nickname surely it should be me. NO-ONE gives themselves a nickname. I mean, he's not fucking Burnsy.
Last night at The Stand tonight. I'll try to pull my finger out and be a bit better. If you come along please stand just for a moment at the corner of the street outside The Stand. I can't really explain it but, on just one small spot outside there, it smells of fizzy shit. I had two witnesses last night and they agreed; fizzy shit. Nasty.
02 Sep 2008
Come On! Come On! It’s Good To Be Back!
Current mood: grumpy
Fucking bunch of fucking rude, blind, cunting pushy pricks who don't give a fuck that you're carry two suitcases, they'll just walk all over you to get on a boiling hot train filled with more cunts just like them. It's good to be back in London. It's sooooo much more sophisticated here in the nation's capital. Up in Scotland if you ask any public servant anything at all the answer is always "No", but not in London. I was here merely seconds when I heard a 13 year old Underground "assistant" say the magic words "I don't know". Much more helpful.
Of course, the worst thing about being home is that horrible realisation that the second you put your bags down that you now have nothing to do. Even though I'm an If.Comedy award winner I'm still going to find filling my days over the next few weeks pretty tricky. My paranoia that everyone in comedy is doing better than me ( a FACT) led me to spend pretty much the whole day on sunday rather pathetically looking at other comic's MySpace/Facebook pages to see if any of them had blown their own brains out after the festival. That would have made me feel a lot better. But no, everyone seems to be doing brilliantly. Little Britain is about to start in America (let's hope Gustav saves a few million poor people from that fate), the If.Comedy big winners have got their own radio shows and Andrew O'Neill's status says he's back on the circuit, a pain I share with him. The only thing that cheered me up was this Sphincter-tasting clip:
Good to see someone finally sticking it to Droopy. That animated, long-faced cunt has got away with it for too long. Of course, the really bad news in comedy this week has been the deaths of Geoffrey Perkins and Ken Campbell. Very sad to hear about that but, remember comedy fans, if we can get any glimmer of hope from the passing of two legends it is that these things happen in three's. Due to law, another comedian MUST die. My money's on Eric Sykes. Or Gavin & Gavin.
Basically, I had a crap day on sunday because I'm paranoid and it feels funny being back. Monday was much better. I went to Margate and picked up my dog, Jerk. Jerk's been staying with my friends and four other dog's for over 5 weeks. She's played on the beach every day, swam in the sea every day and generally been looked after brilliantly. Taking her away from all that is the only joy a bastard like me can get after coming back from the festival only to realise that I have NOTHING. It's very nice to have her back and one day this week I'll take her for a walk. Maybe. Then last night I met up with some friends from America, then a quick business meeting (very quick, I don't think I was even registered) and then quickly saw some other friends. You know the Rounds System? It's were you buy someone a drink and then they buy you one back. It seems to break down a lot after the first bit.
Sorry, this is all just moaning. Don't worry, listener, I'm doing my first gigs since returning soon so I'll be back to bitchy bile in no time. I thank you for your patience.
03 Sep 2008
I would so fuck The Brain of Morbius.
Current mood: cantankerous
Category: Food and Restaurants
I can't believe how down I was on Sunday after returning home from a month at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I thought I'd miss it so much it actually got to me quite badly. There was no need to feel that way at all because the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is all around us if only we'd care to look. Since I've been home I've been soaked in the rain, been ripped off by bills and fucking terrible comedy shows that make me pray for door-to-door suicide bombers to visit Lewisham? Well, I just switch on my telly.
Last night, I shook hands with the Devil and watched The Kevin Bishop Show. Holy fucking Christ on a bike, that is surely as bad as it gets. It's so good to see in 2008 a Channel 4 TV show taking a cack-handed swipe at that vicious bastard Bruce Forsyth. Especially by the only impressionist in history who can't do an impression of Bruce Forsyth. The premise of The Kevin Bishop Show is this; each sketch eye-rollingly lampoons our love of channel hopping but the twist is it's a cunt. The main "joke" seems to be replacing any word that rhymes with gay with the word gay. For instance; 28 Gays Later, Howard's Gay, Gay It Forward, Gay (that's Ray, apparently). I don't want to slag it off too much (I do) because I know viewing figures keep dropping every week due to suicide but also because I don't really think it's Kevin Bishop's fault. It's not a bad idea but TV companies are really into homeopathy when it comes to a good idea. Channel 4 have obviously taken Kevin's first draft script, grinded it down to dust then diluted it and diluted it until there's nothing left. I'm pretty sure Kevin knows that too. Look at his face next time he's on. He's practically begging us all to end this now. He looks so unhappy. Don't say yes to a second series, Kevin, it's only you I'm thinking of.
After that I watched Katy Brand's Big Ass Show which came across as I, Claudius in comparison. Of course, I genuinely laughed at the latest Armstrong & Miller series because they are old and I am old and we old people are very under-represented on TV these days. Bring back Mike Yarwood, I say. I'm pretty sure he'd still be up for doing Brucie.
There have been more things that have happened to me in the last 24 hours other than telly, you know. I did a 20 second voiceover that had to be done in 47 parts because I cannot read or breath properly, I had an argument with a cross-eyed ball-of-walking-Thrush in Sainsbury's because I stupidly wanted to pay for my shopping, I realised I find my Doctor Who DVD collection erotic, I picked up excrement (hey! I'm just like Channel 4!) and I made christmas dinner. What an exciting life I avoid.
04 Sep 2008
I Have Made a Huge Mistake....
Current mood: happy
I have just eaten a "health" bar. It claims it is Wild Fruit flavour but it actually tastes of dust, sand and Ian Huntley's signed confession. It's all I have left to eat after coming home drunk last night and eating all the lovely unhealthy food I normally keep in my kitchen. I like being drunk. I like being drunk because Dan Mersh's idea of sketch group The Trap and I writing a show together called El Quattro Cunts seemed like the greatest idea that any human has ever had ever. It's also the great thing about being a bit thick because I still think it's the greatest idea that any human has ever had ever. I don't know what Jeremy Limb thought of it because he's very clever and he was only drinking water last night. I know, he's going through a post-Edinburgh Prick phase. Paul Lichfield attended.
I'm in too good a mood to be grumpy today. Sorry. I'm sitting on the sofa with my dog, I'm watching Arrested Development and I'm in pants-only mode. I'm in my happiest place. Don't worry, I'm out drinking tonight with Bennett Arron so I'll be back to furious in no time. In the meantime, can comedians who carry satchels in their publicity shots fuck off now? Thank you.