Everyone @ Chortle

I excitedly went to the newly-renovated Kentucky Fried Chicken in my neighborhood, partly because it was a welcome addition to the culinary landscape of the area (and all shiny and new) and partly because I had gone to KFC a number of times with someone I liked in London and wanted to feel connected and magical by doing the same thing here.

But they ruined it by giving me what seemed to be Extra Crispy instead of Original.

I wasn't sure because it had the Original Recipe taste but was dry and crispier than normal -- kind of a hybrid. I liked it, actually, but didn't think it was sufficient to render me magically connected. (And this disconnection may have been at the root of later troubles.)

Anyway, the other day I went again and this time, for sure (I think), they gave me Extra Crispy.

Then, they replaced it with . . .

Extra Crispy?

The hybrid?

It was impossible to tell, so I ate them both and left. (I got an extra biscuit, too.)

Later that night, I was at a bar, after hours, with the cute puppeteer.

She asked me if I wanted a beer, then went off and got herself a Guinness.

But she gave me a Stella. (I didn't even get a biscuit.)

Good god, what am I doing up at this time?

it's 10:30 and I'm over at Jonathan Mayors house having picked him up from the train station.

It's international day vs. homophobia today and we're off to Oldham.

I reckon homophobia will win this one.

I need a cup of tea. But there's a wasp in the sink.

My head hurts.

I'm not made for mornings.

until next time I love you all xXx

When approached by a teenager with his top of exposing his pale skin an badly done home tattooes whilst his ratty looking friend in ill fitting trackie bottoms lurks nearby I feel a it intimidated, moreso when the topless youth is carrying what appears to be a petrol can, especially when he seems to think that the most appropriate way of opening a conversation is by going in loud so as not to appear intimidatng.

"Have either of you got a light?" He says looking at me and my girlfriend. I look at him and the ratty friend to check that they're not showing signs of this being a trap, it doesn't look like it. I look down at the can of petrol in his hand. I pause and consider the outcome of this request, knowing that I do have a light.

Weighing up the odds I say "Sure." (Like a Goth to a flame)and poduce it from my pocket. the ratty friend starts shouting and calling him a "Fucking cock" before taking the can off him I light his cigarettte and he hands me back the lighter "ta love." he walks off and as we carry on my girlfriend and I can hear him in the distance arguing with his friend asking him to give him back the can of petrol.

Maybe next time.

I found out what happened with my keys, in the middle of the night my ace flat mate Amber's boyfriend Bob wandered through to the kitchen and saw them, thinking they were Amber's he took them through to her room.

I'm not a secret mental drunk after all. All this came too late in the day for me to do anything about it though, I'd handed my last little bits of work after saying aquick hello to the proffessor who was sat outside the main office, it would appear getting stoned in the sunshine. Walking further round Crewe that afternoon my girlfriend and I got stared at by pretty much every passing driver, passenger and pedestrian. But like in Washington when the kid leaned over the balcony and incredulously shouted out "them two are holding hands! It's like they're poofs or something!" before pausing to think and concluding "Lady-poofs?" with a tone of unbridalled confusion in his voice.

When we finally got back to the flat to make food, my not so ace flatmate Victoria, (who I had a stand-up knock down row with a week or so ago about her opening my mail, her argument "you shouldn't take this so seriously." my argument "Stop opening my mail." Her reply "you're over reacting" my reply "Don't open my mail." Her reply "I have seen two of my brothers killed in front of me by soldiers and I left my child in Namibia to come here." My argument. "don't open my post.") was in the lounge braiding her friend's hair.

We decided to head back to Manchester, but first I got a call from a friend who's going to hospital for the same surgery as I had, she was asking a few questionsso I told her everything truthfully, whilst my girlfriend alternatedly winced and mouthed "don't tell her that you'll scare her." after an hour or so I think I'd covered all the questions. and the call ended, it was time to start thinking about going, then my mum called. I told her I'd just been talking my friend through what she can expect from her gender reassignment surgery, and my mum said "did you tell her she'll need a mum? does she have a mum?" I said "I think so." She said, "tell her if she doesn't I'll do it."

"Ok I will do."

"I'll be better at it this time." She said.

"I Don't see how, you were perfect at it last time." I said.

We chatted for ages and then the Mrs and myself jumped in the car and started driving to Manchester. I started thinking of all the stuff my mum had done for me, and how she was there for me when I was in hospital, and before, how she'd helped me in and out of the bath for weeks on end, how she'd helped with some of the most embarrassing things I'd ever been through and all the times I'd not been as good to her as I should have.

I cried a bit, and my girlfriend told me to pull over for a bit.

there was a ball of tension in my stomach as we headed back to her flat, which only got worse as we got to Manchester City Centre. the streets were flooded with Rangers fans and in the parlance of the Kriss Kristopherson movie Convoy there were several "bears in the air", along with a number of meat waggons, sirens blaring all heading down Great Ancoats street to were it looked like they'd tried to loot JD Sports.

The streets were teaming with idiots draped in Union Flags stepping in front of my fast moving car./ I thought ot Bill Hicks suggestion "just speed up and switch your windscreen wipers on."

I swerved a number of times to get past various rangers fans and finally made it to the flat, as I held the fob up to the security lock the Mrs said "Are you Ok?" "no." was all I could answer. as we got down to 73, my space. I reversed in and had to open the door. I was nearly sick. I hate driving a little bit more every day. in between worrying about getting speeding tickets (even though I don't speed, and only do 56 on the motorway", the cost of fuel, and the fact my car will probably break down soon, I can't deal with that sort of situation.

It took a while but I calmed down, and teh evening was salvaged by dying my hair black again.

within seconds I suddenly felt a lot better. I love my black hair, I'm never trying to grow it out again.

anyway time to go, but until tomorrow I love you all.

BB xXx

it'd been a bit stressful and we were both tired

Wow.

Except for a couple of not-completely-energized hours, I slept from about 4 AM Wednesday 'til around 8:30 this morning.

Not sure why.

Been (in my half-assed way) "on the go" since I lost 3 days to allergy medicine a couple weeks ago.

In fact, Tuesday, I did like a 90-minute cardio workout at the gym (12th and, I guess, last consecutive day there), sang many songs (badly) at The Living Room, ate veggie dogs at Whole Foods, hung out 'til the wee hours with a cute puppeteer (girl).

I guess I needed a rest or break or something. (I think I was kinda depressed.)

But I missed seeing William Shatner plugging his book at Barnes and Noble.

I knew it was time to go but I kept thinking I would sleep just a little while longer.

Life is mean.

I've lost my feckin' keys, I had them last night, but I can't find them. Plus one of my rings has disappeared, it was on my thumb last night and now it's gone. Normally you have to be some kind of drunk for things like that to happen.

I've never felt quite as useless in my life, and in front of my mrs, she says she loves me anyway, but I can't be so sure.

anyway we were walking down to uni today to drop off some books and get some more David Lynch movies to watch and walking down the street she put her arm round me and I round her, and within three seconds three mouth breathing bottom feders had leaned out of their cars to either stare or shout "Queers!" at us.

people tell me that homophobia doesn't exist anymore. It does, clearly and it's nice to live in the little protective bubble that Manchester and the Gay village provides, but it's also good to remember that outside the cities people are still as backward as ever.

Down the road from m Stonewall had one of those billboards "SOME PEOPLE ARE GAY, GET OVER IT." and this being Crewe, someone had written underneath it "Yeah, puffs." this is the level we're dealing with, people who don't even know that the correct spelling is "Poofs" As Wil Hodgeson said "Have some pride in your insults."

Anyway, big congratulations go to one of my biggest heroes in comedy, the man who took me under his wing when I started and who has been a constant halp and who persuaded me to do my edinburgh show this year, Jason Cook, who won the award for best international act at the New Zealand comedy festival.

I'm so proud of him and glad to know him, both he and Toby Hadoke have made a big difference to me.

Also congratulations to Toby Hadoke for his Sony nomination. It seems like everything creative is alligning correctly His show was fantastic and it is well deserved.

And now back to me, as this is my blog and perhaps the most self indulgent of all artforms even beyond comedy.

It's good to be surrounded with creative people, and in a few weeks I'm moving back to manchester in with Dug Shelmerdine and Jonathan Mayor and I can't wait. On top of that I'm working with Michael J Dolan on my show for edinburgh. I got a Best Debut show nomination at Leicester and I'm hoping to capitalise on that success and make this show the best I can and remember 2008 is my year.

It's a weird number thing that I have, where I give things certain significance based on coincidental repetitions of numbers.

I was born at 20:08 on 24th December 1978.

20:08, so 2008. 24th December= Nearly Jesus, (Jesus was 30 when he made it big with his stand-up, highly underrated in his day and lots of people missed the point of his Kaufmanesque commitment to his art combined with a Peter Kay level of accessibility and observational stuff "How blessed are the meek?" etc.) on top of that, like Russell Brand I was born dead having strangled myself with the umbilical chord. so I've already done the ressurrection trick. Along with the Lazarus rebirth thing (hence the name Bethany)

I'm 30 this year, in the year of 20:08 which corresponds with the time I was born.

so in the 12 hour clock that's 8:08pm. the Edinburgh festival is in August, the eighth month, the first proper Friday of the festival is 8/08/08 So I'm reckoning I'll sell out on that date, and get my first good reviews.

Fuck you Dan Brown!!! this is better than the DaVinci code!!!

I'm fully aware that the above makes me look mental. But it's some more of that hippy dippy positive thinking and "stepping into the future that you've created" stuff that makes this life a lot easier than being defeatist.

Right I'm off now do watch The Lost highway and eat Ice lollies.

until next time, I love you all.

BB xXx