Everyone @ Chortle

Yo dudes

This is to test that the youtube embedding works ok. It's a little tour of the flat I'm in with a cameo appearance from Barry Dodds (herein referred to as B. Diddly)

Here goes...

hooray!

jx

The actual show begins tomorrow. Tech was yesterday, and to be honest I did quite well considering it was a tough crowd.
Things learnt from Edinburgh began today, as John Robins taught me the perfect tactics for an all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet. Apparently the key is avoidance of starch. Having lauded his experience, he managed a meagre two plates and ended up with egg-foo-yung all over his face (metaphor rather than actual).
The flat is empty of people, food, computer and telly. It feels like prison. Being first to arrive, I thought it polite to take the smallest of the rooms and leave the larger for my pending flatmates.
Then I thought 'fuck it' and am now comfortably positioned in a room big enough that it would take about ten seconds to run a lap.
Judging by the previews, the show's in pretty good shape. I'm actually looking forward to the whole thing.

i've encountered the phenomenon of comics who are agitated and at a loss because they have no sets to do between now and the start of their festival run.

i find this sad.

if i know i'm gonna be doing 24 days of shows starting in just a few days, i feel great about all the performances i've got ahead of me but also excited about the free time i've got before they begin -- time in which i can do anything. (or nothing.)

(anybody wanna do somethin'?)

Dear All,

Just a really quick one to thank the people who kindly brought tickets for tomorrow's preview (Wednesday 1st) and apologise for not being in Edinburgh - a bit of last minute Kama Sutra research left me with a sprained ankle and a minor oil burn (who'd have thought love could be this damaging) and it's not good enough to drive - it'll be fine by tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to seeing anyone who can make it on Thursday.

Thanks for all the kind messages (and the painful suggestions).

Kama (love)

Tim

ran into andy ofiesh of the gilded balloon's naked comedy showcase hangin' with the underbelly's walsh bros. outside the not-yet-open purple cow last night. andy looked beautiful, like he's on top of the world. the walshes looked excited.

today, ran into melbourne comedy festival boss susan provan's husband mickey outside the in-the process-of being-assembled gilded balloon. he accompanies phil nichol and steven k. amos and has been to singapore since i saw him just over a week ago in montreal. i basically went to sleep and came here in that time while he's lived an additional life.

steve ullathorne was also at the balloon. he's usually not here at the beginning of the fest but his photos will be on display at the gilded, so he was setting things up and seemed exhilarated. (he's also producing barry cryer's ronnie-goldenless show.)

tony woods seems lonely.

new york's "dangerous" rick shapiro (this year's doug stanhope, according to some) seems ready to discover and take on new worlds (but needed to be shown how to use the weird edinburgh showers).

leon from spank! seems creatively ambitious.

and i'm at the good, ol' forest cafe, using the intermittent but free wi-fi.


it is begun.

The phrase ‘false economy’ is one I all too often begin to use when it’s too late. A prime example is saving £9 on a return flight to Edinburgh by coming up two days early, then spending £120 in the space of those two days. I don’t think getting first pick of the rooms in my flat is quite worth £111 pounds and only seeing my girlfriend for 12 hours in between her getting back from a trip to Europe and my leaving for Edinburgh. Though I did manage to arrange the best surprise present for her. She’d always wanted a human skeleton, yes, a human skeleton. I read ‘The Curious Incident of the Dog…’ last night for the first time. She bought it for me and I can see why; my girlfriend is very similar to Christopher. She’s not got Asbergers, but has all the charming qualities of Christopher (Love of Maths, order, space, logic) without the downsides (screaming when touched, no sense of humour, bedwetting). So a skeleton was not an unusual dream for her. I bought one, after three months of scouring Ebay for one that wasn’t hundreds of pounds. While she was away I got the keys to her flat, erected the skeleton in her bedroom, and left a letter written by the skeleton in his hand, asking for a place to stay and saying a handsome man had told him she might need company during August. Genius. Though my first idea was better (placing the skeleton in her bed in my clothes with a note saying 'I came to check your flat wasn't flooded, i locked myself in, called for help but no-one came, if i die before you get back i love you. john'. That would have been the prank of the century if it'd worked.

Anyway, It was awesome to finally see some comedians arrive in Edinburgh yesterday. I went for a few drinks with a very tanned Dan Atkinson and erstwhile flatmate Jon Richardson. Both in fine form but stressed about their debut shows which will both, no doubt, be excellent. The difference between my carefree excitement and their fear, self doubt and secret high hopes was tangible, but I ‘spose that’s all part of doing your first hour. Jon’s living a way out on his own and Dan on Broughton Street, he claims it’s the “bohemian” area but having been there for burgers I discovered this estate agents code for “gay district”. Great place, and excellent Enchiladas in a place called ‘Blue Moon’.

Most importantly I bought a new pair of Converse shoes (connies). They’re black but with black labels and I replaced the white laces with black ones. The one downside of new connies is that they’re so clean when you first get them that you look like a total jerk-face for five days so I had to scuff them up a bit.

When I got home I realised the locked door incident (see previous blog) had made me more paranoid than I thought. I slept with a massive carving knife in my bed, which, if honest, is a stupid idea. If I was a bad-ass hitman it’d be fine, but chances are if I was woken by an intruder I’d scream like a girl and then stab myself in the arm, which if anything would make his job easier. I also erected a rudimentary alarm system by placing my swivelling chair against the door with one of my new connies balanced between the two. Anyone attempting to break in would now have the threefold problem of dealing with a man screaming because of a sudden noise, then screaming because of an intruder and then stabbing himself in the arm, I hoped he might make his escape during the confusion.

Today I’m going to begin searching for gigs in Edinburgh other than the Zone, which I don’t enjoy doing. I’d rather people saw me and chat to them afterwards as opposed to finding a way of saying “you don’t know me but I’m good and not a dick” in a text message. Despair.

Last year at around this time I was unemployed and not making enough from comedy to live off and decided on a little plan. I was going to go to Edinburgh and see what happened, so with £20 in my pocket and a car full of fuel I set off north with Steve Hughes to see what would happen.

£20, my car and a dream.

I had no gigs booked in, I had no income, I had nowhere to stay and not enough fuel to get home again.

I survived, not only that I did really well for myself, I got work I earned enough to live quite comfortably off, I got passes for most of the venues and the coveted Library Bar Pass and had the best time of my life.

I did sound tech for Matt Kirshen's Show "Have you seen this boy?" I was the main flyerer for Paul Sinha's if.comeddie nominated show, I was interviewed by Paul Provenza for the film he was making and got to play Spank! and get filmed for it doing some of the most personal material I've ever written for the first time ever.

This year it's 24 hours away from me heading up there and I'm in a similar position. I was going to set myself some tasks, but I've already broken two of the rules.

But for the sake of it, here are the rules I set myself for the festival:

1. I'm allowed enough fuel to get to Edinburgh, but not enough to get home.

2. I'm not allowed to use my bank card, surviving only on the first £20 and from then on what ever I can earn.

3. I'm not allowed to ask anyone if I can sleep on their couch/floor, I must wait to be offered.

4. I'm not allowed to sort out any work before I get there. (this is the one that I've broken so far as I'm doing lights and sound for Duncan Oakley's show and I've been offered 3 gigs whilst I'm up there.)

5. I must try and get for free or in exchange for work passes for each of the main vanues, and a Library Bar Pass.

6. I must try and get as many gigs as I can whilst I'm up there.

7. I must try and get free internet access every day to keep you guys up to date with my progress at the festival.

8. I must do all of the above and have as much fun as possible, I can only rely on my wits and my newtowrking/blagging skills and come back in a stronger position careerwise than when I went.

And so there you have it, tomorrow I head on out with these tasks in mind and I need to do what I can to get this stuff and raise my profile as far as possible. As I'm typing this I'm playing with my cat necklace, it's become a good-luck charm, a symbol of how I always land on my feet. Let's hope it doesn't let me down this time.

Right, let's get packed and let's go to work...

It seems it's only in the wee small hours when I've got to be up early I get to write on this blog anymore, but that's because for the last week or so I've had to get up early, well early for me. Technically on Sunday I got up at 11:30, but that was after ending up in poptastic dancing like a twat to Dolly Parton Remixes and the Scissor Sisters, before trying to stop a friend from jamming her fingers up the noses of complete strangers, falling out of a tree she'd climbed and dragging her out of the way of an oncoming bus.

And what did she learn from this night? Apparrently "Don't try and stick your fingers up a hookers nose unless you've given her the money first." It's good to see that hanging out with me she's learned something.

It was my friend Emma's birthday on Saturday hence the trip out to poptastic, I'd already had a full day having to get up after only 4 hours sleep to head off to Oldham for the Pride festival with Jonathan Mayor and Rosie Lugosi.

As it was their first parade I put in the effort, resplendant in black rubber trousers a fringed leather jacket and biker boots. I looked less of a twat than I sound there. But we were in the front of the parade, though by the time I'd got to where we were supposed to be meeting up I'd already lost Jonathan and Rosie and was trying to get across town without being killed (just my regular paranoia at play, then today I heard that some poor guy had been set upon in Oldham by the news staple "gang of youths" at around that time, the guy got a fractured skull, and my thoughts are with him) Anyway I managed to make it just in time for us getting ready for the procession through the town, I was right at the front, just behind Jonathan and Rosie and next to the Bishop of Bournemouth.

It was a short parade met with a few smiles and people waving, groups of people staring trying to figure out what the hell was going on and two guys outside McDonalds looking really angry. Having taken part in Manchester's parade last year it was an altogether smaller affair but no less important. It's easy enough living in Manchester (which I don't but I spend that much time there that I might as well) with the Gay village and the big pride parade and the cosmopolitain attitude to be a little sneery of smaller towns and think that the world is like the bubble we create, but to step outside that to a town just 10 minutes up the road, where they have one gay bar and that this is the first time they've ever had a parade. It means something.

When we got to the venue where they were holding the Pride festival it was lovely and the sun came out. Not what I was planning as I burn really easily and spending a couple of hours out there, even though the sun was only out briefly was enough for me to get sunburned.

I psyched myself up for my gig though, I was only doing a very short set and as the crowd outside dispursed after Manchester's Lesbian and Gay Choir had finished performing there weren't that many people down at the front ready for me. Outside, in the daytime, with a quickly dispersing audience and those who stayed at the front had an average age of 7. Then a quarter of them disappeared when he got scared by a wasp.

Suddenly I'm thinking through my stuff for anything I can do in front of a bunch of kids, there's very little. But I do it anyway and have fun with it even though no one is listening. those who are there are smiling, and I manage to get two laughs out of them so under those conditions I consider it a win.

Shortly after that I head off to get some food, as the only stand-up performing during the day, and essentially dying on my arse I know I'll have to do a lot of explaining to other artists. If anything goes wrong for them they can usually cover it, it's only with stand-up that your failure becomes so obvious to everyone. And I do. I explain to several members of the choir why my stuff didn't work, but I know from at least 100 other occasions where I've died on my arse that no one ever hears the reason, they just hear you trying to find an excuse because nothing you say or do is ever funny. It's an important lesson, no on the day I wasn't funny. But you know, you move on. Or at least you try. I left the greenroom to head back out to the stage feeling a bit better about myself thinking I'd just be able to forget about the gig and concentrate on the next one and the fun I was going to have that evening. Right up until I bumped into Jonathan and he smiled and said "I told you you shouldn't have done that material first." Naturally I did what anyone does in that situation and burst into tears. I don't even know why, well I do, it was exactly the wrong time to say something like that and I know he didn't mean it the way it sounded, it's my slightly autistic personality. I'd done exactly what he'd said and still died on my arse and then he'd told me I'd not listened to him, it was a combination of a lot of things but a big chunk was the injustice.

For other examples of that look back through these blogs and look at the bit about why I won't go into the Limelight in Crewe, even though it's about the only bar in the whole town I live in that's worth visiting because of a picture round in the pub quiz where the answer was "Raiders of the Lost Ark" and I got a point deducted because according to the other team "It's 'Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark' are you stupid or something!"

I'll have to stop talking about that now it's getting me angry again.

Anyway after Abba-mania had been on, and the Amazonian Blonde wigged one had managed to play on inspite of being attacked by a wasp, the show drew ot an end and it was time to head back, after a minor incident with me managing to lose my car keys yet again we ended up heading off to Sheffield to the Memorial Hall for the Last Laugh. Jonathan was compereing and it was great as I got to hang out with Sarah Millican, who's a good friend but someone I don't get to see often enough, and Simon Bligh who I've not seen for ages.

The gig was fine though Jonathan freaked out a little at the beginning but I did my boxing trainer thing of psyching him up to be in the perfect place for the gig, I was the Burgess Meridith's Micky Goldmill to his Rocky Balboa. and he did the job really well, the gig was lovely and then I headed back to Manchester, to Vanilla, and then to Poptastic before finally dropping people off and climbing into bed at 6, setting my alarm for 10:30 and drifing off to sleep.

Jonathan woke me eventually at 11:30 and after a berrocca a shower and some tea I headed over to Duncan Oakley's house for the run through to his first Edinburgh show the '68 Bumcrack Special, it's looking like a great show and I'm excited to be a part of it, and I don't get to hang out with Duncan enough so I'm really looking forward to it, and it's one of those things where it feels like now we've done a tech run it's starting to get real.

The fact that 48 hours from now I'll be in Edinburgh is also making it feel like it's time to start shitting it, but I've got some simple rules sorted out which I'll put in a post tomorrow before I head out to do the first run through of my 2008 Edinburgh Show "beth becomes her" which I'm doing in front of a group of selected non-comedy friends as they'll be able to give me better initial feedback on what they want from the story. One year before I'll hopefully be taking it to Edinburgh, I know few people this organised.

anyway it's late, I'm tired so I'll bid you all good night.

I love you all

BB xXx

In but 12 hours I'm heading up North to begin Edinburgh madness. All the props are sorted, the diaries crammed, admins all done, flyers/posters ready, everythings packed, its dark and I'm wearing sunglasses. Ok, not the last bit, but I wish I was. Although having tried it, its just hazardous rather than cool.

I seem to be feeling stressed before I've got there. Knowing that the second we arrive my day is filled with tech rehersals, rehersals, buying some monkey nuts and flyering as well as various other bits. But I'm excited too. I'm hoping its gonna be a rocking month, and I know I'll enjoy it when I get there, but until then, the pre-amble is scary.

Fingers crossed for at least one good review, several nights of messy madness, and at least two incidents of still being up at 11am having not slept and off my facedness to look back on and enjoy. But until then I've got a last night with my gilrfriend till I miss her for a few weeks and a night of worry that I've forgotten something seemingly trivial but possibly important.

Next blog will probably be in the early hours of the morning after a late night rehearsal of the children's play I still haven't got the script for! Woohoo! Its all go people! See ya at the festival.

Last thoughts, the Simpsons Movie is gash and truly disappointing and good luck to Matt Kirshen in the finals of Last Comic Standing. Watched his semi-final tonight and it was damn good. Shame about some of the US comics. Oh well.

The following takes place between 8pm and 9.48am.

If last night is anything to go by this Edinburgh is going to be very weird. My plan not to drink for the festival lasted exactly 13 hours. I was at a gathering for the Avalon production team and, feeling not a little nervous and awkward (sober), I hit the Guinness and within literally seconds was suggesting we get shit-faced and find a ‘titty-bar’. I’ve never been to one, and am sure I never will, but there’s nothing better than misogynist bravado to endear you to a group of twentysomethings, eh?! Olver left at about 10pm leaving me with the advice “don’t be a prick”, to which I think I may have replied “I’m not a prick, I’m a brilliant”. The words of a bona fide prick if ever I heard one.

We went on to a late bar called ‘Fingers’. For me there’s very little in life that’s funnier than that – ‘where you at Robins?’ ‘down fingers mate, doing skits and dishing out monkey shines’ – The barman was very cool and refused to serve someone who was wasted, I think that happens all to rarely and hugely increases my liking for a place. After faux breakdancing to the Billy Joel and Van Morrison I’d requested from the resident pianist I decided enough was enough and wandered home at about 1.30.

After listening to Lord of The Rings for approximately 120 seconds I fell asleep. I awoke at 5.38am needing a wee in the way which you only can after sleep. Martin Amis called it the feeling of ‘having a white-hot bowling ball in the pit of your stomach’. Well imagine reaching that stage while asleep and then waking up two hours later. It was hell. No problem though, we’ve been here before, I’ll pop to the old toilet, real easy like. The laws of physics were against me though as my bedroom door is locked, from the outside. The only key that can perform this task is on the table next to my bed yet there is no way of unlocking the door from my side. Immediately another 100ml of burning wee seems to add itself to my now overfull and panicking bladder. What to do? ‘Call Avalon’…It’s 5.30 am, ‘Call the landlord’…I don’t know the number…and it’s 5.30am, ‘kill yourself’…maybe, but think, what would Jack Bauer do? He’d probably go undercover in a Mexican drug cartel, only to find it was his mother in charge of the gang and then have to kill her only to find a rival agent was disguised as her and was carrying his child. There’s no time for any of this, so I piss in the bin. There’s no cool way of saying that sentence, I pissed in the motherfucking bin. It’s not a mesh bin, nor wicker, I am saved by a beautiful plastic, watertight bin. The final twist in the tale was that for about 10 seconds I COULDN’T FUCKING GO! What a time to get stage-fright! Luckily, just as my insides are to start haemorrhaging it’s all good again and I go back to bed.

9.48am. I call Avalon and they send round the letting agent, (I am still stuck in my room, though now in relative comfort). Only over yesterday’s roast Olver and I were discussing the horniness of the Scottish accent. I, personally, don’t see it, I know many do, but for me the accent of a Scottish woman is that of old dears buying shortbread and bemoaning the downfall of the bingo industry. However, I will say this, there is no more comforting sound to hear than that of a Scottish woman saying “help is on it’s way”. It’s the climax of Mrs Doubtfire all over again. There’s very little a 65yr old Scottish woman can’t make alright. Unlocking my door was a piece of cake, which she probably had in her handbag anyway. I had to slip the key under the door so that she can unlock it.

So all is well now in the world of John. I’m drinking tea and listening to Dire Straits like a middle-aged divorcee – That’ll win her back, exactly the right mixture of ‘Calling Elvis’ and working on the Triumph Stag, no, that’s why she left dickhead, it’s a recipe for crying into gin every night for the rest of your forties.

Still have no idea how my door got locked. The only explaination is that someone broke in to play a prank, or like in that excellent joke of Cogs’ “I keep four big Chubb locks on my door, but I only lock two of them, that way any cunt that tries to pick the locks is always locking the other two”.

jx

Without a shadow of doubt, doing last year's blog - and preparing fot this year's blog - has changed my life. Completely. No exaggeration.

My plan for this year's blog was to start writing and showing pictures back in April, but literally *on the day* that I was going to start doing this, things took a serious turn for the worse in my private life, and everything - including Edinburgh; the writing, rehearsing, and the blogging, was put on hold.

Readers of last year's entries will remember the stories of how my wife Anneliese came up, got injured falling off a window sill(!), and helped take pictures for the blog. Regrettably, that won't be happening this year as we are in the process of separating. Important as comedy is to me (and it really is), it had to take a back seat as my private life was sorted out. People who know me well have a better idea what happened, and according to them, there are 'clues' in my show this year; not just in content, but in the darker, slightly more stark style that it has adopted. However it is never mentioned openly (I had a brief chat while working on Mock The Week last week with Russell Howard about this, and felt it was down to my own comfort with how this would work). And with respect to all the parties concerned, I won't go into details on the blog either, no matter how much my PR believe this titbit of personal strife could be an absolute winner for the press. :/

So, this year, being in Edinburgh is not just a triumph of writing and preparation, it really is evidence of a battle against some fairly heavy emotional adversity. I have two days to go until my first show and I still haven't put together my slide presentation or rehearsed the links for it. I've also yet to do a preview without notes on stage. This is practically unheard of for me.

I find that performing when there's stuff going on in your head is tough, though doable; but the creative process - writing, rewriting, rehearsing; is nigh-on impossible. The temptation to write about exactly what is going on is huge, as that's what your head is full of, and the discipline to concentrate in its entirety on a completely different subject for the sake of your work had to be learnt at break-neck speed. So I was genuinely shocked when the people who know me well were enthusing so heavily about my previews and how good they thought it was - I wouldn't have been surprised if they told me it was pony. In fact, Lisa, my massively-pregnant-about-to-drop-any-second agent, was fairly sure I was going to pull this year's festival. We'll find out a month from now if my decision to stick with it was right or not.

For those of you who know me (and my wife) personally, don't worry. I'm fine, she's fine, and it's as amicable as it can be. I'm still sad about what happened, but that emotion is neatly suppressed into sections of my show and aparently, the quality of my driving. :)

Speaking of which... off we go. Here's my pile of stuff for this year's show; Once again, I'm living on my own, this time in New Town. Unbelievably, for a flat in excess of £2000 for the month, there is NO PHONE LINE and NO INTERNET! So once again, I will be attempting to hook onto a neighbour's wifi and trying not to run up a bill of £600+ for mobile phone net access. The first thing I will do when arriving - and I mean this - is switch on wifi, then go knocking on neighbour's doors and offer money and favours for hooking up on their net access for the next four weeks. What's the going rate for wireless bribery?

but i'm in london.

(more later.)

Ahoy! I got into Edinburgh today at about 10am in the company of the lovely Mark Olver. The flat I'm in rocks, i was hoping to embed videos but as of yet can't fathom it out; the blogging software Chortle uses doesn't allow direct embedding from YouTube for some reason. So if anyone knows how to get round this on an intel Mac then do let me know (the blog site used is b2evolution). Might have to revert to posting links to the vids.

Went for a Sunday Roast with Olver. It's not really a thing i do a lot, the old roast, but i think for him it's like heroin. I'd give it a 6/10 but for a more detailed 'roast review' go to www.markolver.com as he's reviewing little things each day. Cool.

Selected my walk on music etc today, which is all very minor yet exciting. I'm increasingly aware that my preparation for Edinburgh this year has been more financial than artistic. Unfortunately due to the nature of gigs in July it was easier to make nice money than play nice gigs. June/July is a hard time if you're A. unsigned and B. not doing a solo show, as there are no uni gigs, a lot of places just do previews for hour shows and you've no lovely agent to sort you out weekends at nice clubs. But such is life. At least i can eat like a king if i perform like a cockend.

Not much to do until the tech on Tuesday, so if i know you and you're up do let me know and we can swan around like Prick The Bishop. If i don't know you feel free to do the same... (unless you're a total ass-hat)

Piece out

jx

It's 00:20 Friday night/Saturday Morning. I should be out dancing like a twat, perving over all the young and sexy things out in one of the myriad clubs within a 4 mile radius of my current location.

I'm not, I'm sat in Chorlton in Manchester at my Friend Rosie's, which is the only place I seem to be able to guarantee internet access at the moment. As of Wednesday though I think it's going to become even more difficult as I head up to Edinburgh, though on Tuesday I'll post a blog with my Edinburgh intentions and rules.

It's this week I want to talk to you about. After I posted the last blog I started to realise I wasn't feeling very well, an hour later I was unable to move from the couch, I thought I had food poisoning, but I don't know what it actually was, it felt like Food poisoning mixed with the 'flu, by mid afternoon I was delirious. The first time I'd had a house to myself in bohemian Chorlton, home of the Manchester lesbians, and I'm stuck, lying on a couch feeling ill.

The week picked up after that as I was feeling a bit better the next day and managed to buy myself the new Harry Potter book. Ok the rest of the weekend was a write-off after that, though the book was great, like Anne Frank's diary, if she'd had an over active imagination.

From Monday I've not really been out of the car for more than a few hours at a time, Monday was my gig at Vanilla. I love this gig so much, for the audience and the friends I've made because of it as much as for the serious amount of fun it is to organise and play there every month. Oddly enough about half of my compereing this month came from me doing versions of the stuff I've written on here (though made a hell of a lot funnier, well some of it was) and though the night overran it was loads of fun.

I really think that this gig's been good for me, for the first time in my life I've got a group of lesbian friends who I can hang out with and who have nothing to do with comedy. I think that that's healthy. The other thing that's good for me is that I'm aware that I'm still not very good at bantering, so as a result I've had to write at least 20 minutes of new stuff every month. Most of it's shite and doesn't work very well, but there's always at least a minute or two of stuff that can be used in my main set.

Another reason I love my gig was because of something that happened after the gig finished. The line up for the night was Jason Cook opening, Rachel Fairburn and Debbie Lee doing short spots (Rachel is excellent, anyone reading thhis who's up in Edinburgh for the festival should go and check her out when she's in the So You Think You're Funny? Semi Finals, and hopefully finals.) Jo Dakin providing main support and Jonathan Mayor headlining.

I am fully aware I overbooked the gig. I'm also aware that as a result of the smoking ban I wasn't aware of how long the breaks needed to be. The night went on for ages. But everyone had fun. Jason Ripped it, Rachel did well, Jo ripped it and Jonathan was every bit the headliner, though half way through his set some fag-hag hanging around with her pretty boy hairdresser friends wandered in and realised that in a lesbian bar she wasn't getting the attention she thought she deserved and made a tool of herself by heckling him.

Now Jonathan dealt with her, and carried on his gig. But it's what happened after the gig that made it special. A number of audience members approached her and her friends and made it perfectly clear that they weren't welcome and that trying to ruin their comedy night isn't on. And the group left after one drink.

Tuesday started, as it does with me waking up smiling. after a quick cup of tea I headed off over to Jonathan Mayor's house, I was driving him to Llangollen in Wales for a gig at the Llangollen fringe "Fringe with a Tinge" which was the culmination of a documentary series he's been doing for ITV.com which you can see here. anyway as I got in the car I realised I'd left my Sat Nav at Vanilla the previous night, this was going to be an arse as I was not only off to Llangollen today, but North London tomorrow, anyway too late to do anything about it now.

So as you can imagine we get horribly lost but the north wales country side was lovely. eventually I decided to head back to Wrecsam and ask there if anyone can tell us how to get to Llangollen and there was a lovely woman in the co-op who helped us and right then, as we were by this point two hours late to meet up with the film crew I could have kissed her and proposed marriage.

most of the day from then on for me was spent waiting around for the crew to finish filming and for the gig to start. It was a fun gig, even though I wasn't performing I had lots of fun, I've not seen Zoe Lyons since last August in Edinburgh and she was brilliant, Barbara Nice was great as usual. After the show Jonathan and I went to the local wine bar with the festival directors and a couple of audience members and the film crew and it was great fun. The people of the town were really welcoming and friendly. Eventually driving home at 3 in the morning I was tired and hungry but had a feeling of satisfaction at another day of maing sure that I was just living and having fun as much as possible.

Wednesday started with my alarm going off at 9:30. Tired I managed to get out of bed and make a cup of tea and have a shower, I've go a new haircut that takes some doing first thing. It kind of makes me look like a Manga character, it's all spikes and punkiness with really short bits in places, it's difficult to describe, it's crazy lesbian hair really, but trying to get it done without a hairdryer was a bit of a nightmare. I headed off into town a little while afte that, as I'd left my sat nav at Vanilla I got Alex, one of the assistant managers to get it for me and we met up for a coffee and a chat, it was great fun we then spent part of the afternoon making in the bear factory, or bear workshop, I don't know what it's called, but it's in the arndale, making a teddy bear for her girlfriend's birthday, we then dressed it like a lesbian, becuase we found that amusing. We also spent a while stood round just outside the arndale because there was a group of cheerleaders there doing some kind of performance. To be honest I think they were excited about performing and looking forward to hot guys staring at them, I think they were less impressed byt eh two predatory lesbians who seemed to be giving them even more attention than anyone else.

I eventually headed back to my car and drove off down to London to do the Hellfire club in Mornington Crescent. It's a lovely gig and the set up made it look slightly gothy, with a touch of Victoriana and with the union flag tied to the mic stand it had a hint of Aerosmith to the proceedings.

after downing a half pint of water with a couple of berrocca in it I was called up on stage and did a short spot with some new stuff that I wrote for monday for Vanilla along with some other slightly older stuff and I managed to break away from material to start trying to banter with the audience, I've been trying this more and more with limited success so far but I think I'm starting to make some headway with it and it was a lot easier tonight than on previous occasions. I leave the stage to rapturous applause and I really felt good about the gig, there were ways I could have done better, I tripped over a couple of words and got the timing wrong on a few things but overall it was a brilliant gig.

The downside to the gig was that the person I was supposed to be staying with wasn't on the bill and I couldn't get hold of her so as the gig drew to a close I realised I'd have a long journey back up to Manchester ahead of me. I also realised that I was getting short of cash. I've finally over the last few months managed to get to a point where I don't have to do a day job anymore, but I'm still having to be really really careful with money and at this point on Wednesday night I was using the last £20 in my account to put some fuel into the car to get me home. I reckoned I'd be hitting Manchester at about 3:30 so I called some friends to see if I could stop at theirs. I couldn't go to my sister's as if I did then I'd not have enough fuel to get to Mancehster the next day for a gig. Unfortunately everyone I called was either just off to bed, had already gone to bed and so wasn't answering or had people staying over and so had no space for me.

I started driving anyway. I love playing in London, aside from last time I was there, I've always had really good gigs in London, but I hate staying there for any longer than is absolutely neccessary. 6 and a half years ago I left tehre having just suffered a nervous breakdown and was heavily medicated and destroying myself through drink and self-harm, I think I've got reason not to want to stay there longer than I have to.

By Birmingham I was nearly falling asleep at the wel adn the redbull and slaps to the face were stopping being as effective at keeping me awake as they should be, so I mad e a judgement call and decided to stop in Crewe at my unfinished flat.

At 3:30 I pulled up outside and tried to sneak in with a bag and head up to my room. My landlady had told me not to stop there until after August Bank holiday weekend, but I was desparate. as I got to the top of the stairs I saw why, there were two double matresses blocking the landing and a pin board leaned up against them making my ability to get to my room without making a sound totally impossible.

I was as quiet as I could be right into my room where I found a partially disassembled bed lying on top of my bed, so I tried to move it and stack the wooden slats up against the wall in silence. It worked, well, for the first couple of them. then it all fell apart and one wooden slat fell and hit another which hit another which then knocked over a book case. None of this was silent.

I eventually managed to climb into bed and started to drift off to sleep hoping that I wouldn't get woken in the same fashion as last time I stayed here when my landlady walked into the room and started questioning me about why I was there. At 5:30 I finally passed out.

9am I wake up wiht my landlady stood next to my bed with a pot of white paint in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, I scream "please don't paint me!" before I've even figured out that I'm awake yet. She asks me some questions and I answer them the best I can even though I'm not yet awake and apologise for sleeping there. she doesn't seem to mind that much but decides to tell me that I owe some money for the gas and electircity bill. Fortunately I've enough presence of mind not to say "thank fuck you've not seen the phone bill then!" and soon enough she leaves me alone and I manage to go back to sleep... for half an hour before she phones me to tell me that the £388 I thought was my deposit and summer rent was actually my summer rent and last term's rent, so I did have to pay the bills and I wasn't going to get a deposit back in the near future. "Oh and Sarah's in residence at the old house." This was the last thing I wanted to hear.

I'd moved out of my old house and was pissed off at the state it'd been left in by my other flatmates, I'd tried to help out with the final clear up and then I'd had to go off to Glastonbury and left them to finish off cleaning. They didn't, and so when I got back I had to spend another two days cleaning up and moving house. After the discussion I'd had with Sarah about how it'd been over a year since we split up and I still wasn't getting over her, I'd decided that it would be best if once I'd moved out we didn't contact each other, at least until I'd managed to get over her, and I know that the only way that this would happen was if I started seeing someone else and started to fall for them. shortly after this incident over the clean up I'd sent her some angry text messages, and then deleted every text she'd sent me. then I deleted every photo on my phone of her, and then every photo I've got of her, then I burned the letters she'd written me along with the valentine's card she'd sent. Essentially she'd been edited. I've edited people before, it's ususally after they fuck me over for a second time. But this was slightly different. I'd done it and started to feel good about myself, I've started to notice when people fancy me too, and I've finally got over the mental block I've had for nearly a year.

The mental block I've had is this; Sarah's new Girlfriend likes a lot of the same things that I do, rockabilly, surf guitar, psychobilly, punk, tattoos, motorbikes, Americana, B-movies, Zombies etc. and as a result of this for the last year I've hated them, I hated them with all my heart, I even got to the point where I was considering not checking for motorbikes when I pull out at a junction on the off chance I might run over her. And then in the last two weeks I've finally got my head round to liking them again.

Then suddenly I find out she's back. I drift back off to sleep but when I wake I'm plagued with thoughts of phoning her. I get up and realise there's no milk in the house so I head over the street to the shop. it's 3 in the afternoon and I've been awake for less than five minutes, I've still got most of last night's make-up on and my hair is the most spectacular mess of bed-head you've ever seen. A combination of Mohok, with an elvis quiff and a sid vicious spikey side and a shaved side, dressed all in black and wearing a 1950's bikers jacket. the kids in the shop all point and giggle at me as I wander in and get the milk, I feel I have to explain to the woman behind the counter that I work nights and have only just got up and need a brew.

I head home and have a couple of cups of tea whilst I sort my head out. I can't stop thinking about phoning her. The Mormon's call at the door asking after my flatmate. I've stopped at the flat twice and they've called twice, this time they had a baldy scary looking man with them, they seemed really really displeased and worried that I've answered the door, especially when I go to get my flatmate and give them the non-descript excuse "she can't come to the door right now, she says she's busy. She's got someone in there." I know she's been bored over the summer sitting in the flat on her own but I think that making friends with these guys is going a little too far.

I eventually get the last of the stuff that I eed for Edinburgh from my flat and head on out to manchester, I grab a shower at Dug's and head off to Trof in the Northern Quarter for the gig.

It looks like it'll be hell, it's packed with works leaving do's and just lots and lots of people who don't seem to be there for the comedy, but as the show starts they settle down and are a lovely intelligent audience. again I step to the plate and do what I did the previous night, something in my delivery's changed though I don't know what, I think that it's just become more natural, whatever it is it works and I storm the gig, that's two in a row now, as the middle section closes Kev the MC hands round a bucket for the punters to make a contribution, later I get handed £10 in loose change. It's paid, and that's the main thing.

Towards the end of Mike Newell's set the Smoking terrace is closed an the mad woman from outside who was trying to explain to me that the Queen's a reptile and that the Illuminati and the Free Masons control everything and that the CIS tower is an obelisk without the capstone, that the all seeing eye is on us and that tower is controlling our thoughts; decides that this is the best time to heckle and the evening gets weird, Mike dealt with her really well.

I head off to meet up with Bex and Lorna in Didsbury and we go for a drink, and tlak about our day. Lorna it turns out has now got some really impressive bruises from her fall off her bike, and Bex's presentation went well, we've only time for a quick drink and then it's time to say fair well as I head over ot Dug's house where I sit with him and Michael J Dolan Britain's Favourite Funnyman(tm) and Ben Schofield. the day had its ups and downs but I feel like I managed to make my way through it with the minimum of fuss. I look forward to my day off.

that day off was today which was a day filled with foreboding like I've forgotten to do something, though it started on a high when I got a text from Rosie saying she'd received an email from Oldham Pride and that I will be getting paid for my gig there. I'd decided to do it anyway, because if there's one place in this country that needs a pride parade it's Oldham.

I was talking with Tony Burgess about that the other week, he lives there and said "they treat anything short of punching someone with suspicion, I got called a poof for recycling. the other day some kid was like "you fucking poof" and I was like "what've I done?" and he was "Fucking poof you've got a cat"."

It's 2:30 now and in 12 hours the parade will be in full swing, and it's an honour to be part of the first ever Oldham Pride Parade and the performing afterwards, even if I am apprehensive about it being a bit dangerous. Oldham has a huge BNP presence, one of the largest in the country. Whatever happens I know it'll be fun and worth doing.

Anyway, time to head off to bed I think. I hope you've enjoyed reading this. If not then you could have quit at anytime and I'd be none the wiser.

until I next get to a computer

I love you all

BB xXx

from central park as darkness descends and the fireflies flutter about. (i'm using the free park wi-fi.)

the new york dispatches now end and soon you . . . (i'm getting kicked out of this part of the park. see you in/fom edinburgh.)

Hey Dudes

Welcome to my blog, here it begins. I'm doing The Comedy Zone this year and it's my first full run in Edinburgh. It's nice to have a proper excuse/reason to be there.

I'll be updating a lot and also (and i'm quite excited about this) putting in video diaries of my travels and perhaps some interviews with the great and the good of this year's festival.

Firstly, a bit of background:

My previous experience of Edinburgh was SYTYF in 2005, which was just awesome. I was like a child in a sweetshop, expecting nothing and finding everything. A highlight was getting knocked out of the competition and then going to the Library Bar and getting totally rendered with the other loosees. We were naive enough to think that quoting Father Ted lines at the top of our voices was appropriate. What pricks we were. Though there is part of me that smiles when i remember Dara O'Briain looking distastefully at us about the third time we'd shouted 'SO I HEAR YOU'RE A RACIST FATHER' Never such innocence.

Last year was utterly depressing. If you're not doing anything at the festival then going up for two weeks is a bad idea. I'm not well known at all so getting gigs up there wasn't that easy and you can't help but think you're a wannabe hanging onto the coat-tails of other peoples joy. The only gig i did a few times i got banned from, which is bizarre as I'm the least edgy or difficult person you could hope to meet. It was truly weird. Maybe 'the man' just couldn't deal with the cut of my whimsy y'all!

So, 2007, I'm doing a package show, which is awesome. Its a great way to begin in Edinburgh because

A. It's cheap
B. No Pressure
C. It's much more like the circuit gigs you're used to

I'm on with Barry Dodds, Carl Donnelly and Joe Wilkinson who are all excellent. No dead wood. I'm compering about two thirds of the shows and am hoping to make it as much like a late-night gig as a showcase. Do come along, it'll be a blast. Speak soon

jx

just got back from montreal.

before going there, i went to this amazing, multi-borough event, ending in coney island, with about 14 fire dancers performing on the beach to about 2000 revelers plus music and swimming and dancing . . .

before that, i dog-sat for a weekend in the shadow of the brooklyn bridge, went to the hamptons for a few days, sat in the street for 25 hours waiting for an iphone that wasn't even mine, spent time with relatives in the maryland/virginia/dc area, went to boston on the fung wah bus.

had 180-plus people at the david cross show at the (new york) green room, saw pieces of movies outside in bryant park and the somewhat post-apocalyptic mccarren pool and free concerts in prospect and asser levy parks.

and this is only since early june; only last month.

still, i feel like i'm not living enough life.

part of it is that i've been having a hard time hanging onto new york. i've felt it slipping away from me.

on wednesday, i sat at the south street seaport, working on my edinburgh show, looking at brooklyn across the river, while salsa legend johnny pacheco played behind me.

i wanted to check out the screening of "the matrix" on one of the west side piers but i also wanted to walk home across the brooklyn bridge.

so i started to let go; to not try to do everything.

i walked across the bridge, the skyline surrounding me in the dark night sky.

there were new lights on the woolworth building. glad i got to see 'em before leaving for scotland.

i walked up myrtle avenue, past fort greene park. (fyi -- just learned that keri russell moved into the area.)

had a couple of white castle hamburgers.

can't do everything, though.

so, last night i didn't try to catch any of the movie being shown beside the brooklyn bridge in empire-fulton ferry state park. (it was "being john malkovitch".)

and i didn't check out the celebrate brooklyn show in prospect park.

but i did go to hippiefest in coney island, part of borough president marty markowitz's seaside concerts series.

it's a free series that draws the most cretinous, misshapen, brain-damaged attendees of any i've encountered, all dressed up in a perplexing sense of entitlement. (one woman thought a good place for a tourrette's sufferer was in a prime position fairly near the stage.)

all the neighborhood schnorrers come out for each show, even if they can't possibly enjoy the artist, so last night saw the spectacle of decrepit ancients obliviously yapping through quasi-psychedelic sounds. (it was kind of an am hippiefest.)

hell, the actual hippie-era guys aren't young but these were women who might have dated winston churchill, if he had been a brainwave-challenged denizen of southern brooklyn. (they couldn't spoil my enjoyment of colin blunstone, though -- he's really great.)

boy, remember when i couldn't wait to get back to the uk?

now, i'm in love with new york again.

or maybe i just feel like i haven't had enough of it.

like i don't know it enough.

like i haven't lived enough new york; like i'm not living enough life.

tomorrow, i leave for edinburgh.

God I've got a cold coming. Its at the early stages at the moment. That sore throat stage and copius amounts of thin texture snot that runs from the nose when you least expect it. Like children that just leave snot there as if they didn't realise their nose was running. Yeah while I'm on the subject why do children eat something messy like an ice cream, or some chocolate and then get it over their faces and hands.... But just like....leave it there. Like they can't feel it or something on their faces. How does that work? I hate that. Just wipe it, I can't stop looking at it, its like a bogey or something.

My week's been ok so far. The last preview on tueday went well. I'm getting quite excited cause I really feel we have a good show. People's comments have on the whole been so positive, they all think its completely different from stuff they've seen before.

We have an Ed Preview on Sunday in Wolverhampton. We're heading on up with Pappy's Fun Club cause they're doing theirs too. ROAD TRIP! Wooh! I hope Stiffler doesn't shag someone's er...Mom. And I hope we don't total Kyle's dad's car. Er...and I er... hope we don't end up in a.... sorority. And I hope we get to the Video Tape in time. Fingers crossed...

Tomorrow I'm going to see my nan and then get my hair cut. I plan to get layers like the other girls have.

Right, you know the score its our last preview on tuesday 31st July. On at the Perseverance in Marylebone, 11 Shroton Street. 8pm! WOOOH! YEAH.

my sisters and me stop looking at our mexican comic books when we crossed the border from mexico into the u.s., so the border guards wouldn't think we were mexican kids trying to illegally enter the country.

and they were terrified i'd make a joke/say the wrong thing.

they knew me well.

these are things i told the customs guy the other day when returning to the u.s. from canada:

that i was from "los estados unidos". (he made me restate this several times until i finally satisfied him by saying it in english. but even then, i only said the "states united".)

that i lived in "hymietown".

and when he asked me if i had anything to declare, i said something like, "i declare i love u.s. customs officers because they look after us and protect us." (i think he liked that.)

you used to be able to zip across the border but not anymore.

our bus sat waiting for two hours at the border station before we even went inside. (though, once in, i got through immediately despite my flippant?/silly?/funny? attitude. it seems my parents' pre-terrorism paranoia was unfounded.)

if they're gonna treat every single person as a potential terrorist, they should at least have the personnel to do it expeditiously. delaying people for two hours is an insult.

the canadian border station (in and out in half an hour) at least had snacks.

propensity for late night promenading. last night, i saw a couple and their two very young children leaving a park at around ten after eleven, which, you'll have to admit, is pretty late for such things

i was in williamsburg because i'd gone to see an open-air screening of "ladies and gentlemen, the fabulous stains" in the part of williamsburg (it may have been greenpoint) that's inhabited not by earnest chassidim but by ironic hipsters.

my friend says i'm a hipster, but a failed one because my enthusiasms are hipsterish but i don't wear the right clothes. he's a big believer in wearing the right "uniform" but i think it's to my credit that i'm a mixed bag of interests and aesthetics.

for instance, the irony thing can be taken too far for my taste.

there was one girl i saw after the screening, smoking a cigarette while ironically wearing a shirt that said, "don't smoke live." (okay. maybe she was wearing the shirt straightforwardly and ironically smoking.)

i got annoyed at the level of ignorant, self-destructive arrogance it took to wear a shirt that acknowledged the terminal prognosis of cigarette smoking while laughing it off as if if it were just more oppressive bullshit from humorless authorities who just don't get it.

i mean, smoke if you want to, but don't pretend it's a frivolous thing to do. (the girl gets a few "exoneration points" because she wasn't sure whether the shirt meant "don't smoke, live" -- there was no comma -- or "don't smoke live, implying, perhaps, that a band named "don't smoke" was performing somewhere.)

meanwhile, not ironically intended -- though it should have been -- was the awning outside the nearby "park luncheonette", which proudly said, "established 1931" even though they eliminated virtually every vintage detail and took something that was rare and wonderful and turned it into just another somewhat chi-chi restaurant -- it's no longer a luncheonette at all.

it only gets exoneration points if the same family that ran the place a few years ago, when it had a classic lunch counter and served egg creams and other delights, are still there, running the place as best they can. otherwise, it's just being run by a bunch of clueless fucks trying to get mileage out of the proud history of a place they willfully destroyed and they deserve no indulgence.

and neither does the friend (actually the same one who accuses me of being a hipster, as if that will bother me) who, seeing me talking to a girl, will say something like, "c'mon. there'll be plenty of pussy available after we get this done." or, "get your face out of the pussy. we got things to do."

i can't believe i have a friend who (non-ironically) talks that way. (he is, mostly, a good guy, so maybe he can have some indulgence points.)

honestly, it may be to my discredit in the world of "pulling", but i don't see women as "pussy". i'm (often) interested in what they have to say and i'm offended by the notion that they're merely female humanoid masturbation implements available for male pleasure.

wow. there i go being sincere again.

maybe i'm more chassid than hipster.

Positive:
Steven K. Amos
Hannah Chambers
Billy Connolly
David Cross
Mickey D
Debra DiGiovanni
Susie Essman
Zach Galifianakis
Reginald D. Hunter
Karla (Marion Austin Oberle and Megan Kellie)
Janette Linden
Howie Mandel
John Mendoza
Eugene Mirman
Phil Nichol
Bob Odenkirk
Fiona O'Loughlin
Kristen Schaal
Brent Schiess
Holly Schlesinger
Chris "Shockwave" Sullivan
Olivia Wingate
Glenn Wool

Inconclusive:
Joanne Astrow
Steve Bennett
Alonzo Bodden
Jimmy Carr
Amelie Gillette
Richard Herring
Dom Irrera
Eddie Izzard
Andy Kindler
Jessica Kirson
Catie Lazarus
Mark Lonow
Susan Maljan
Al Pitcher
Brett Vincent

Negative:
Greg Proops
Jeff Singer

As is inevitable in this exciting Edinburgh-is-almost-upon-us time, I'm feeling a bit left out. Several friends are embroiled in the all-consuming world of previews and I'm looking at high-waisted trousers on Ebay.

A bit of a waist of time, you might say.
Yes, I know I promised to give up bad puns, but pish, what do I care.

Why is a job lot called a job lot? Why is it called a lot at all? Is it anything to do with the quantity 'a lot'? Sometimes a lot isn't a lot, it's just 2 or 3 things.

These are the important questions one has to consider when one has too much time to oneself.

I'm hoping to make it up to Edinburgh, although I'm not sure I can actually afford the train fare. The lovely Roisin Conaty (The Cakes), Sarah Solemani and Olivia Poulet (The Queef of Terence), Tom Bell and Ed Weeks (Tommy and the Weeks) would be my shows of choice, not only because I know they'll be very funny, but also because they are lovely and deserve to do very well. I don't know what a Queef is (like a terrible friend I haven't actually seen their show yet) but I like the word.

I might put on my shiny red shoes and go for a walk.

R x

5 days has passed since our final preview, and I can successfully say that we have done no further work towards our show in that time. Probably not what it needs, but all in all, its nice to have a little rest before you get so bored of the whole show you start to sabotage it for each other. I have already anticipated this will happen towards the end of Edinburgh and have bought hilariously logo'd underpants specifically to throw Lauren off. (Yes I am in my pants for two sketches. Have you ever heard more of a reason to see a show? Although to be fair, I've probably scared most of you off. Its true. I have no dignity.)

So what I did do this weekend was spend the whole of Sunday reading the entire Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows as did much of the world aged 7-70 (if they still have decent eyesight). I'm not by one iota ashamed of this, and in fact I got really excited about buying it and finding out what actually happens to the boy wizard. And I have to say, it’s a pretty damn good read. Yep, JK has ripped off every fantasy writer this side of Discworld, but she also has a great way of making you love her characters. The book's pretty ace, and has a superb battle scene, and all is good and fun until...the end.

So so many things manage to screw up endings. I know endings are supposedly a tough thing to do, but after reading or watching most endings of things, 90% of audience will know where it’s gone wrong, and yet the director/writer seems to be unable to notice it and continue to f*ck it up. Potter has a happy ending. It comes pretty damn close to having a realistic (OK I know he's a wizard so realism is not the most important factor) and mildly depressing conclusion, but it jumps the gun and makes everything all happy and shiny before children can clog up Childline with their moaning.

Life rarely has happy endings. Especially if you are fighting the most evil wizard ever (Voldermort that is. Although there are many contenders to this title, including Sauron, that one from Willow the Wisp and David Copperfield). I want more realism in these things so children can learn to not be so bloody optimistic. Spiderman should've got bitten by a radioactive spider and got cancer, Simba should've been shot by illegal hunters, Woody should've got stuck behind a radiator and never retrieved, Shrek should've been burned at the stake for being an ogre, and Harry Potter should've died while Ron and Hermione are reduced to a life travelling with Paul Daniels and Bobby Davro respectively. Because that’s what would really happen. And that’s what I'll tell the kids at Comedy 4 Kids in Edinburgh for maximum tear potential. Although none of them will be old enough to know the sheer tragedy of Bobby Davro, and they should all feel joy to have been spared his and Linda Lusardi's mediocrity (although Linda's lycra suits will forever be applauded).

I like that in a story. Harshness. And unnecessary damage to buildings and people. I saw Transformers at a preview a few weeks ago, and it was amazing. Yeah it had a happy ending, but it also had 2 hours of huge robots f*cking stuff up. No proper storyline. No sh*tty love stories. Just robot violence. Beautiful.

I've kind of forgotten what my point was thanks to memories of robots destroying things. Jesus, they are big robots and they destroy so much stuff. But I do think JK missed a shot by finished the books with an ending that would shock the world. I might write to her and suggest a second edition featuring a teenage pregnancy, drug abuse, a youth detention centre and obesity, with Harry declaring his gay love for Voldemort before being stabbed by hoodies to cover all current issues.

Or I could just actually do some work towards our show....

at one of andy kindler's legendary "state of the industry" addresses.

he was very funny and -- despite my fears -- didn't do anything i couldn't have done, which meant i could sit happily through the whole thing rather than being forced out of the room by discomfiting jealousy.

MESSAGE TO ALL MEN. Stop opening your legs excessively when sitting on public transport. You look stupid and its unneccesary. If you MUST air your sweaty balls can you please do it in YOUR OWN TIME and not when next to me. Many thanks/wanks.

Right thats that then. My week so far has been jolly. Last wednesday the radio show went ace. Although due to a technical hitch the show started half hour late and I was pleased to see emails in the SW1 Radio inbox asking where I'd gone! YEAH! They love all my mundane chatter. So this wednesday 4-6pm again as usual listen online at SW1 Radio.

After the show I went along to a karaoke night at the K Box in Leicester Square with some pals, some comics, some not and it was ACE. If you've never been, let me explain the concept to you (other than doing er....karaoke.) Right the K-Box consists of lots of little rooms/booths where in a group of people go into a BOOTH, each one named a different region in the world. The party then proceed to select and belt out songs. At first I must admit I wanted to run for the exit. But as I started to drink a magical substance known as ALCOHOL, it turned into the bestest place in the entire world.

As you walk around the building there are corridors with lots of rooms along them and from each, you can hear raucous groups of people belting out the likes of Queen and Abba. At one point I went to the loo and I noticed this 30-something bloke wondering around suited and booted & clutching a brief case. He was trying to find his colleague's booth, he'd just come from the office having had to work late. He asked me if I knew the way. I replied "One question. Are you sober?" To which he replied "yes." To which I roared "RUUUNN!!! RUN FOR THE HILLS!!!!" He looked scared by my warning (I was serious) but carried on looking for his lost team regardless.

What a great night but AWFUL hangover the next day. Never mind only myself to blame. Just me.

Saturday day, I put up my curtains. BY MYSELF. Thats right. I had to put up the pole and everything. I had to screw plastic screw things into the wall by hand. I sweated a profuse amount, but am extremely proud of myself.

Saturday night my good pal karen came over to my flat for a chat and a couple of glasses of wine. This swiftly shifted into an impromptu disco. YAY.

Sunday I decided to take a stroll into Greenwich Market and it was fab. I set my face to boho-chic and mingled in with my fellow greenwich-ers. I also went down to the Cutty Sark and the Thames. There I saw the TOWER which is the documentary currently being show on Beeb 1 - monday nights. Its a good documentary. Really well filmed and with great music.

And that brings me to today. I read in the paper today that there could be cases of identity theft for people who use FACEBOOK and MYSPACE. As in if you have your date of birth, marital status, and all that crap on there. I'm changing my profile. I can just IMAGINE how many people wish they could be me. (roll eye smile thing would go here but I dunno how to do it)

Tomorrow is our second to last Edinburgh preview at The Perseverance in Marylebone. YAY! 8:00pm and its ace. 11 Shroton Street. Come along! Tony Law is doubling up with us and doing his preview after ours. Hurrah!

but decided to go to the afterparty at theatre ste catherine 'cause it was my last chance to see a girl i'd become interested in and, also, it effectively marked the end of the festival.

still, i delayed entering the venue, standing out front as the night threatened to be displaced by day.

fortunately, before too long, a (friendly) eugene mirman showed up and encouraged me into the room.

but going in didn't mean i was ready to interact with anyone, so i ended up on the balcony, looking over the scene as kevin mcdonald from the kids in the hall, god's pottery, phil nichol, various attractive comedy industry women and a host of others danced, drank and otherwise embraced the waning night.

unexpectedly, on my shoulder, eugene mirman's hand appeared.

he wanted to know if i was okay.

i said i was and suddenly it was true.

i had been watching the attractive redhead i was interested in dancing, realizing nothing was to come of my interest, and had become a little depressed but soon i was on the dance floor, undulating with the others, feeling almost happy.

when i left, the sun was mostly shining as kristen schaal, standing out front with a cute girl from avalon management, smiled "good morning" and "goodbye".

i felt almost normal. which regular readers will know is, to me, an elusive and treasured state.

the hookers tried to entice me as i strolled toward the hotel, but they had no way of knowing that my self-esteem was now far too high for them to prevail.

ran into greg proops in the hotel elevator.

the only time he's ever met me in a meaningful way -- and we haven't met that many times in total -- was when we did jeff garlin's show at bang together about 9 years ago.

no reason he should remember me after all that time but he did think i was awesome that night (which i was), so i said hi and reminded him how we'd met.

unfortunately, i was insecure when i met him another time and he was kind of dismissive to me (forgetting that he thought i was awesome), so i was insecure this time, remembering how that had gone.

he said he remembered me but i suspect my palpable insecurity connected his memory to the later (bad) encounter even as he hung the negative feelings on the details of our (positive) original interaction.

still, he was (superficially) friendly, so i introduced him to the producer of provenza's chat show, joking that they were "arch rivals" (since proops is doing his chat show here as well).

proops said he'd heard provenza's show had gone well, which he damn well should have heard, since last night's entry (featuring eddie izzard, billy connelly, louis black, louis ck, dave foley and kevin mcdonald with danny bhoy, jimmy carr and others watching) was one of those great shows -- truly magical -- that danced on the head of pinheaded comedy angels.

i said the show had been "unbelievable" but told the vaunted ironist he didn't have to believe me, a bit of wordplay that seemed to go completely over his head.

yeah, alright, it was insecurely delivered, but he still should have gotten it.

and maybe i was standing there with a tight neck spoiling my lovability, but who is he to judge me, with his large, seemingly expanding head and his ossified, never-gonna-go-farther-than-he-has-in-show-business stance.

i know i haven't demonstrated that he judged me ill but, damn it, it felt like he did and, on top of that, his uptight wife shuddered when i said, "hello loveliness," upon being introduced to her.

and what do you know, anyway? you weren't there.

now, richard herring -- he's nice.

and he just told me he reads this blog.

Well as it happens I've stopped naming my blogs using song lyircs as someone else one here (chortle for those of you reading this on my myspace) is naming their blogs in the same way, only using less obscure lyrics, and now I feel a little foolish doing so.

I think I've lost my funny. it's been a few weeks since I had a gig, July's always bad for that but this time seems to be worse, and I know that it's the calm before the storm as I'm off to Edinburgh at the end of next week. But I've been trying to find ways of making the story about me getting touched up and then making the man who did it cry, and I can't except for making completely over the top and silly threats. as well as that I've had to start writing new stuff for my show in October and I've not been able to figure out a way to make some of the serious stuff funny in any way yet.

I'm sure it'll happen, just need to let go and it'll be funny.

I went to see John Bishop's Edinburgh show this week, "Stick your job up your arse" and it was brilliant, though I couldn't help thinking of the 14 jobs I got fired from or walked out of in 2004 that made me realise that I had no choice but to do comedy as it's the only thing I've ever been good at, and the only thing I cen stick at without getting bored and self sabbotaging. Teh show was a couple of long and very funny stories which told the true story of his finding comedy as a way of making a living. It was fantastic and very useful for me.

I'm currently housesitting for my friend Rosie Lugosi, Manchester's lesbian Vamipre Queen. and her house is exactly as you would expect, and it's ace I love it. Though it does make my mind hate me more than usual.

I've mentioned this before but my mind saobtages me when I'm in a scary place, or on my own, in fact, about every ten minutes or so it comes up with something scary that I then panic about. I was thinking about that this morning and I think it's part of why I'm a Goth and why I have an obsession with horror, and the Gothick, because in my head if I'm a scary thing then I've got less to fear from the actual scary things that are out there.

This doesn't work. Anyway last night Dug was here with me having a cup of tea and we were sat in the house and heard the gentle plinky plonky sound of a musical box, I think it was coming from next door, but even with the two of us here it was scary and unsettling. Then when I went outside for a cigarette I saw a bat flying low overhead. it all adds to the atosphere of the place. Back over at Dug's later that evening I was saying how I was worried that my mind would turn on me when I got back here, even though it's beautiful and exactly to my taste it's like a house from a horror film, and knowing that Rosie's door was open and that as I went to bed I'd see her coffin in her room that it would tweak my overly active brain.

Dolan however, had a solution to that, "what you should do is, go up the stairs slowly and carefully and concentrate on your breathing then walk down the corridor to the room and slowly applroach the coffin, reaching your hand out slowly and then as you touch it open it in one fast go giving yourself a little scare before you see that it's empty." I followed that up with , "Yeah, and then get attacked by whatever's behind me that's been hiding in the room."

I didn't. I just tried to get from the front door to bed without looking at anything and thinking about nice things. Fortunately I'd watched Ghost rider on DVD earlier in the night so nothing would be scary after that. It's terrible, though nicholas cage is visibly acting his hardest to try and get it up from the status of utter shite, and Eva Mendes just looks bored throughout it.

right I've got things to be doing, I can't hang around chatting all day.

I love you all

BB xXx

So that's it. No more previews left and just over a week till we head to the Scottish city (Edinburgh that is. There are several Scottish cities, I don’t want you to get confused).

Both previews this week were pretty good. Although Lauren thought last night stunk n a stinky way, but she was wrong. Its tough because Wednesday was the most packed and crowded audience we've had and so the atmosphere was great. We only managed to mildly offend two people and there was laughter throughout. But then on Thursday we only had 17 in a room that was much bigger than the night before. People get strange when it’s like that. Its almost as thought they are nervous to laugh just in case no one else does. You can see people starting and holding back. Several people said afterwards they felt awkward about laughing out loud because everyone else was holding back. Rubbishness. I find that so hard to deal with because in stand-up you can confront it directly, warm people up, loosen up the crowd. But in a scripted show, you are limited. You cant just break out of script, make everyone do drama warm ups and all claps and say our names or some wank.

And so whatever we did, the laughs fell into the gaps in the chairs a bit. I still thought it was much slicker than it has been and apart from a few technical fuck-ups it was good fun. And that’s the most important bit right?

I've also discovered from my younger brother that there is no such thing as 'super-id' just 'id' and now I feel like a big ignoramus, although I didn’t tell him that even though we had written a gag about it, I still have no idea what it all really means. I once read some of Freud's 'Jokes and the Unconscious' and quickly decided that he was the least funny human ever (apart from one of my old uni lecturers who successfully sent the whole room to sleep once. Saying that, he could have drugged us. He was a bit odd). Anyway I'm not pretending our comedy show is all highbrow and stuff, but I am sad my younger brother is smarter than me. It’s so wrong when siblings do that.

I am now gonna rehearse lines for the next week, while trying to write some new stand-up, rehearse the kids show, temp and get some sleep in-between. I fear I may die before August even begins. Although that would be one hell of a good PR angle for our show. Hmm, I'll get working on that now...

PS I've just found out that my spell check keeps trying to substitute 'wank' for 'wink'. Sadly I find this far too funny and no work will no happen for at least an hour while I try writing different sentences with 'wank' in, to spell check it. 'What a winker'. 'My mum caught me winking'. 'I winked all over her'. Hee hee hee. God I'm such a child.

in the street, talking to glenn wool. (glen had to surreptitiously ask me, an american, his name.)

then, kids in the hall, mr. show and jim jeffries on provenza's chat show. un-fucking-believable. a party. so funny. (they spoke about other comics as freely as if they were not being broadcast.)

up 'til 5:30 with phil nicholl, glenn wool, stephen k. amos and others.

reg hunter arrived today.

ran into howie mandel for the first time since my l.a. days and used him to bounce off notions that made john mendoza laugh.

had a "smoked meat" sandwich.

all in all, good times in montreal.

i wanted to enter canada to get out of fighting the vietnam war.

bus ride to montreal.

I’ve been thinking about Edinburgh, which could be forgiven from a comedian at this time of year but for the fact that this here comedian isn’t actually going to Edinburgh for so much as five minutes of this years Fringe.

Making the decision not to go was actually relatively simple, in fact the decision pretty much made itself for me, and whilst I shall no doubt miss the tinsel this year, I certainly won’t miss the tree.

But I have found myself pondering the subject as I have watched my contemporaries thrash about within their shows, applying far more importance to comedy than should ever really be given (and I’m not sneering – I have been as guilty of that as any), and I really wish that before last years fringe I could have seen myself now. If you paid me all the money in the world I couldn’t give you the running order of topics from my 2006 show. Couldn’t get up on a stage and do it. The importance of them is so fleeting. It would have probably put it into perspective for me.

I got a call from my management the other day, asking me if I was interested in doing The Big Chill festival in August.

I very nearly hung up.

The last time I did The Big Chill festival I took to the stage at 3am, looking out over a haze of pot smoke, whilst four hundred people scowled at the fact I had awoken them. It was the most painful start to a gig I think I have ever experienced, made worse by token of the fact that for some godforsaken reason I had been booked to compere