It seems that bribery is a forgotten art these days.

Indeed, when I attempted to bribe Steve Bennett (the big boss fella off of Chortle.co.uk) to be punctual in his uploading of Episode Three of The Ray Peacock Podcast with a signed photo of Noel Edmonds (acquired last week during my Deal or no Deal warming up), he then went on to not manage to upload the podcast on the Monday as planned.

In fact, he actually originally threw the photo away with the packaging that contained the cd of Episode Three and had to be told to go and root through the bins outside Chortle Towers to retrieve it (which was particularly unfair as he had probably done that once that day already).

(Yes that's right! I have his address! We'll start the bidding for the address at one hundred pounds...one hundred? anybody...thankyou, bidding is at one hundred pounds with Clyde West*...Do I hear one-fifty? JoJo?...)

However, after a shitload of fuss with internet nonsense and servers and space and all of that bollocks that nobody really understands if they are totally honest, the eagerly-awaited Episode Three of "The Ray Peacock Podcast" is now available...

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN

The Ray Peacock Podcast on Chortle

The Ray Peacock Podcast on iTunes

*and if you win the auction Clyde, don't just send fucking £70...

Taken from The Times (the real one), arts section:

Podcast Of The Week

Ray Peacock could be described as a Yorkshire version of Justin Lee Collins, merely on account of the shared comic occupation and sheer hairiness, but evidently he possesses infinitely more talent and outspokenness if his well-read blog is anything to go by.

Adding to his “performance media” portfolio, Peacock has entered the world of podcasting along with a random comedian mate (another mate couldn’t get time off work, apparently). Recorded in his conservatory, what you get is rambling chat in the style of Ricky Gervais’s record-breaking series, touching upon acceptable swearing, rugby league and wishing the Goblin King would take away his crying baby.

An amusing listen that’s sure to improve once he gets used to this podcast malarkey. blogs.chortle.co.uk/ ray_peacock; www.chortle. co.uk/raypeacock

Just saying like...

A little bit of factual incorrectness in so far as I am not from Yorkshire and I do not have a baby, but I am more than happy with being favourably compared with JLC and Gervais. I am especially happy with Little Raji James being dismissed in print as "a random comedian mate".

And they never mentioned glory holes, Doctor Who conventions or Raji reviewing porn and being outspoken about the whole Leslie Grantham webcam thing (last two things are in Episode Three tomorrow).

Still, podcast of the week though...

You'll perhaps want to see/hear what all the fuss is about?

The Ray Peacock Podcast on Chortle

The Ray Peacock Podcast on iTunes

Right, let’s make an effort to feign some sort of commitment to this…

As I said in the last post, most of the time I would spend writing these has been utilised in editing the libel out of the podcast, so blog posts shall remain thin on the ground until the present series of The Ray Peacock Podcast is completed or banned.

Incidentally, episode 2 is up now, you can find it HERE, and the series is also available via iTunes HERE, which means it is legitimate art and a real proper thing, rather than an occasionally lacking in technical quality recording of two blokes arguing. It would be nice if you found the time to have a listen to it.

So, to the gigs – despite evidence to the contrary on the Chortle gigs listings, I have actually been working most nights.

After doing the audience warm up again for Deal or no deal on Tuesday (during which I made history by being the first person to breakdance on the set to a standing ovation from the studio audience, badly cutting my knee in the process the running right across the east and west wing of contestants high-fiving them all, so fast that my trousers fell down) I went on to do a run of gigs in South Wales.

Three gigs, three belters – the first one was a naughty night were all acts misbehaved on stage with material that I choose not to repeat here, and I closed the show by playing Silky’s guitar and singing my melancholic indie version of “Simon Smith and the amazing dancing bear” for the first time in six months. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

The second night I battled the audience for forty minutes (in a friendly yet cut-throat way) and was then joined onstage by Silky to close the show with (fuck knows why) “I wanna be like you” from The Jungle Book.

Third night I did a proper gig. A real life one with material and everything. That worked too.

All three shows were lovely, and Silky said to me on the second night that the shows had reminded him why he started doing comedy in the first place, which was a lovely thing to say and totally mutual. Those nights where unpredictability is the key to the magic are always a great treasure to behold, and the reason why live entertainment will always stand head and shoulders above recorded media. You may have noticed I am quite the fan or creation over rehearsal.

Last Friday had been playing on my mind for the whole week before it, as I was doing the audience warm up “French & Saunders” at TV Centre.

As you may have gleaned from my gushing blog around Christmas time last year about Rik Mayall, I was greatly influenced by (and a massive genuine fan of) the members of The Comic Strip in the eighties. There was a strange feeling of full circle when I arrived to essentially compere F&S on Friday evening, but I was determined to hold it together and not let any fanboy aspects get the better of me.

Determination is not always enough though - and that didn’t last too long.

After my first section on, with all going great with the fantastic studio audience, I just about managed to hold my cool together when introduced to ‘the girls’, and there was a genuine relief when I looked up at the ‘guests’ section of the studio audience and saw no signs of their other halves - that would have made my nerves unmanageable.

The show was a treat, and I found myself laughing out loud in between the sections where I had to go on to fill gaps in filming. Don’t get me wrong – I always laugh out loud at these recordings, as the warm-up you have to – can’t expect the audience to be laughing if you’re not – but it is almost always forced for that very reason. However, there was no need for faking on Friday – great and very funny show.

Given what happened next, the relief I felt at doing well with the audience was incredible. During a bit where I was setting up three lads with the three girls sat in front of them, I heard a massive booming laugh right at the very back of the studio, looked up, and caught sight of Lenny Henry creased up with laughter, with Adrian Edmondson sat beside him in a similar state. They weren't sat in the middle in the guests section - they were sat on the back row.

Now, you’ve got to understand, this really could have seen me off – I was doing a gig for Lenny Henry and Ade Edmondson. Ade Edmondson out of The Young Ones, and Bottom, and all those other shows that shaped and influenced me in my teens, whilst behind me where Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders. To all those people that have bought into the idea that I don’t ‘try’ when I do gigs – you can fuck right off – I’ve never worked so hard to maintain my composure in my entire life. You’ve also no idea how much of a confidence boost it is to see these people laughing at what you are creating.

It’s so common to notice stoney-faced club comedians in a room when you are performing, as though they are focussing all their efforts into showing zero appreciation for your ability or mirth-making, and when this isn’t the case one notices. When the comedians in the audience are exceptionally successful heroes of yours, you notice like a motherfucker.

As I carried on the warm up, I cast glances their way. The laughter continued.

The show ended and I felt a weight of pressure lifted, even allowing myself to feel just a smidge of pride in myself for holding my own under such esteemed scrutiny, and I went on to the green room for the after show party feeling as though I had run a marathon, exhausted but with a feeling of satisfaction.

Modesty and lack of self-confidence would prevent me from telling all my tales from the green room, but to have these people approach me and genuinely sing my praises had a very odd effect on me, if I’d had a dictaphone with me I could have sorted myself out with a shitload of high profile quotations for my posters, and Lenny Henry did his bit for the ongoing saga of my stage name by walking around informing everbody that “it isn’t Ian – it’s Ray Peacock!”, Ade Edmondson indulged me in a conversation about The Young Ones, whilst all the time bringing the conversation back to how much he had enjoyed me, and Jennifer Saunders said some of the kindest things I have ever had said to or about me. A mental evening.

Most surreal moment of the evening came when I was leaving TV centre and I heard a booming voice shouting at me.

“Ian? Ian?”

I turned and saw Lenny Henry bounding towards me.

“Is Dawn still downstairs?”

Maybe you had to be there, but fuck that was weird.

Comedians will often analyse to themselves why they do comedy - what the endgame or ambition is. Driving back on Friday evening I came to the conclusion that acceptance and approval from those souls who tred the path in front of you, and who influenced and shaped your love of comedy must be one of the milestones of attainment. I very strongly felt as though I had passed a checkpoint of subconscious ambition.

And that’s me - I’ll speak to you soon.

Thanks to everyone who has sent me kind messages about the podcast. If you haven’t listened to it yet then please do should you get the chance, and it's best to subscribe rather than rely on me to remind you week by week. As I said, it is replacing this blog really for the time being. If you've scrolled down too far to be bothered scrolling back up, then here are the links again:

The Ray Peacock Podcast on Chortle

The Ray Peacock Podcast on iTunes

I have simply been too busy. That's all it is. Too busy to update this.

And right now I am probably too tired to do it properly, yet am also duty bound to plug the fuck out of the podcast that was meant to be out last Monday, but has only gone up today.

There are several reasons why it was not out, but the main and probably sexiest reason was that it was banned. Well, it was pre-emptively banned, and then decided to be put back a week. There was a bit of content that I had second thoughts about on the grounds of taste, and also we discussed the episode of Doctor Who what I was brilliantly in, thinking it was on TV on 2nd June, when it was actually on TV on 9th June because the BBC put the series an episode behind so they could show the Eurovision Song Contest For Fucking Idiots Who Still Find That Sort Of Thing Amusing Because It It Kooky In Their Retarded Minds.

So to those of you who emailed me demanding where it was last week - that's what happened and I am sorry that you had to wait another week - particularly when you now discover what you were actually waiting for.

So here are the links for the podcast - very very kindly hosted by Chortle.co.uk

CLICK THIS TO LISTEN TO EPISODE ONE

RIGHT CLICK THIS AND 'SAVE TARGET AS' TO DOWNLOAD EPISODE ONE
(Once downloaded right click file and select "open with". Then select iTunes to load to your iPod, or your Media player to listen on your PC)

CLICK THIS TO SUBSCRIBE TO THE RAY PEACOCK PODCAST

PLEASE NOTE: This episode has been recorded in stereo (in a way) so is best listened to through headphones so that you can pretend you are really there and that. The first section of the show isn't the best stereo in the world as Raji was trying to be a smart arse and overcomplicated the edit. He was so giddy when he did this that he did not make a back up file so it could be fixed after his experiment went wrong. The first section therefore has been repaired to the best of our ability (bearing in mind our only previous computer experience was searching Pornotube...).

As far as gigs are concerned I have had a full on time of it, especially being a fat bloke in all this stupid hot weather. I have left it too long to go into details proper about the gigs so here are brief summaries of each one since I last indulged your faceless stalking;

1st June - Bracknell - pleasure as always, usual stuff of me mucking about, trained an audience member as a comedian and he took the roof off, making it very difficult for the headliner.

1st/2nd June - Hatfield Uni Ball - god decided to spare me.

2nd June - Boston, Lincolnshire - lovely room, got very hot towards the end of the gig (when I was on), had a very funny turn onstage and considered actually coming off due to dizzyness and nausea, but masked the whole event by sitting at a piano in the corner and leading a rendition of "I would do anything for love (but I won't do that)". I've said it before and I'll say it again - I am a trooper.

3rd June - Rotherhite, London - fucking lovely gig. Genuinely. When you walk into a pub and see a mic in the corner it is invariably the kiss of death, but I swear it was one of the nicest gigs I've done this year, totally packed out despite the summer sun, and a proper up-for-a-laugh audience.

4th June - DVD and Spider-Man comic day - blissful until depression kicked in.

5th June - Fopp, London - two Edinburgh previews, two great shows, a competition between myself and little Raji James to see who could do the best Alec Guinness impression (which he won the audience vote for, but only because he was waving his arms about for them to applaud), as good as Fopp gets...

6th June - London - a private gig in a social club for civil servants. Like a working men's club, but literally a stones throw from Big Ben. Thought it would be shit when I got there, again was proved wrong. Very informal affair to an appreciative audience. Also got to spend some time with Roisin Conaty who I have not seen properly since I sacked her out of Ray Peacock & Son in 2005 for not being able to sing at all. She still hasn't let it go and told the audience before bringing me on...

7th June - Sheffield University - Myself and Mark Watson deserve medals for this lunchtime gig. It was a Chortle event - to thank Sheffield Uni for having the most people at the Chortle Student Competition heat. Ironically, nobody turned up to see me and Mark - they were just having a piss up because their exams had finished, we hadn't really been advertised as such. Myself and Mark worked as a team though - I did a bit of compering, then brought Mark on with me and we did an interview section (during which time Mark admitted if he had to have sex with any Simpsons character it would be Lisa because of her intelligence. I said Millhouse because he was a child who looked like a paedophile and it would confuse a jury to the point of aquittal...), then Mark did a sterling set and we left as quick as our legs would carry us. Replenished my Revels supply with a couple of boxes too though.

8th June - I had a casting (I had one on Tuesday as well) for a film. Sometimes when you get to castings you just know that the part has probably already been cast. I had a very strong incling that the casting director wasn't really taking much notice of me when she asked me to stand up so she could take a long shot of me on the video camera and asked me how tall I was. I said "Six foot five"...she said "okay". I didn't bother telling her I was actually five foot six...I doubt the camera was actually on anyway.

9th June - I starred in Doctor Who and the nation ovated. I was also informed I was on television by a ridiculous amount of texts. Some of the texts seemed to just be stunned exclamations that I didn't look as fat as I normally do on the telly.

10th June - Comedy Bar, Southampton - really lovely gig, suffered a bit myself from being too hot again, but got through it reasonably. I spent a lot of time standing on a table that really wasn't safe to be holding me, so that the audience could see how short my legs are, but other than that it was pretty run of the mill.

And that was that.

I am now going to be away from you for a load more days again as I am away all week in Bristol and Wales, doing warm up for Deal Or No Deal again and then three gigs in across the Severn Bridge (Tuesday 12th June - Muni Arts Centre, Gelliwastad Road, Pontypridd. Wednesday 13th June - Pontardawe Arts Centre, Herbert St, Pontardawe. Thursday 14th June - The Queens Hall, Town Moor, Narberth).

No, I can't understand a word of that bracketed information either really.

Apologies for the scatter post, but to be honest, for the weeks that the podcast is on I won't be writing as much on here as usual because I will be saying lots of it on there.

That's why it is in your best interest to listen to it.

I've missed you like...

xx

Better re-cap…

Last Thursday I did Barts Medical School and there’s little more to say about that.

I’d tell you they were drunken fucking idiots, lacking any moral conduct or basic manners, and displaying effortless sexism, racism and homophobia, but I fear by doing so they would consider me to have paid them a compliment. Suffice to say, they simply did not deserve any of the comedians on the bill that night. And you may accuse me of arrogance but if you had been there you would more than likely compliment my restraint…

Which brings us onto Weston Super-mare, and a weekend away at Jokers Comedy Club which is a brand new dedicated venue in the town centre.

First things first, it was a pleasure to be at a dedicated venue that really was just that – dedicated. So many dedicated venues appear to put the importance of food, drink, a raffle, fucking toilet breaks, anything, before the comedy, but that was not the case at Jokers. All the acts were looked after royally, and there was no pissing about with making us wait or be finished by certain times throughout the evening. So welcome and rare you will see the management of a venue be more interested in the show than the takings.

My Friday night gig was par for the course; I step onstage with the best intentions, some cunt in the audience thinks he’s funnier, I spend forty minutes (with a practical demonstration) proving that he’s not, don’t get to start act, mock another bloke for his slurry drunken speech (find out later he’d had a stroke – my bad), fight some more with the first bloke, leave the stage with a standing ovation etc etc.

Outside the gig I was chatting with a group of lady performing arts students who were doing a stand-up course, when the mouthy gent (not the stroke one) accosted me, haranguing me with accusations of not having an act and once again proclaiming, as his equally drunken friend looked on, that he was funnier than me.

Such a pain in the arse, it really is. It’s irritating enough onstage, but when you are finished and just having a moment, to have to carry on ‘defending’ yourself and humouring drunken fucking morons…

The drunken/altered state thing has niggled at me all week to be honest…I have quite the bee in my bonnet over it…

I looked at my nemesis as he continued his mutterings about how much funnier than me he was. I said, very calmly, that this may well be the case, but I was the one surrounded by girls hanging on my every word, whilst he was going to go home to catch the 10min freeview, indulge in a mutual masturbation session with his fat friend before retiring to bed, gazing at a photo of a lost love and falling asleep as the tears encrusted on his cheeks and the realisation dawns that he may never have lost her if he’d just kept his mouth shut and not been such a fucking dick.

He pushed for a reaction and got one.

I can be surprisingly eloquent in my ruthlessness sometimes.

After we left the gig, we were dragged out into the town by the lasses and taken around the finest hostelries that Weston has to offer, culminating in a fucking club for some reason.

Now, I may have given some indication in entries previous that clubs are not my happy place, made worse only by the clientele.

I so don’t want to come over as pompous, or as looking down my nose or any of that, but I can’t help assessing the evidence before me.

I simply do not get it.

I don’t know what is lacking in people’s lives that this can possibly fulfil. I’ve known very bright, lovely, intelligent people turn into obnoxious fucking pill-heads at the weekend, utterly self-absorbed and smashing any degree of life stability they have attained in the week previous and spending their Sundays zombified and mourning the amount of money they swallowed or snorted the night before, whilst all the time regretting actions they might have done if they could only recall what happened during their hours of oblivion. These people have only ever been brief visitors to my life, not least because for some inexplicable reason they will always put the importance of this infantile ritual above anything else.

So, given that I have set out my stall in the last paragraph, you may glean that the club we ended up in was not the place for me.

I’ve never met anyone who was drunk or high who I haven’t found utterly unattractive and objectionable. Literally not one.

Two fights in the club later and I’m trying my very best to figure out what these people get from it. The only plausible reason I could muster was that they go to pull. I know that on the few occasions I’ve found myself in this environment I have more often than not been patiently waiting for the noise to end so myself and whoever could go somewhere quieter and misbehave. That said, people as lovely as myself are rarely present, and looking around with intense judgement at the other chaps, I can’t begin to imagine what sort of girl would take any satisfaction from pulling the testosterone reeking Neanderthals that seem to exclusively frequent these environs.

Being put into a position where I had to physically push one of our female tour guides out of the way as two thugs pummelled into each other, trading punches to assert their masculinity with not a thought for the people stood around them, just wasn’t my best evening out. And you end up getting drawn in, finding myself putting both pugilists to the floor as they grappled each other, I realised how easy it is. In my defence I’m really quite strong me, but like Spider-Man I am aware of my responsibility with my strength, and would only use it when the honour and well-being of a pretty young lady is at stake…or if a heckler gets too mouthy...

However, despite the attention and column space I have afforded it here, this downside of the evening did not dominate. Overall, myself, Steve Hall and Ben Schofield had a very fun night out in Weston. I’ve over-laden this entry with arrogant damnation of club culture because I have made promises not to reveal the good stuff, but it did turn into an exceptionally surreal evening. Despite the fact that the gig itself hadn’t been particularly well attended, we were bizarrely recognised and complimented around every corner, and how certain members of our team took advantage of this would be the best blog in the world. But as I said – I promised I wouldn’t tell and I am a man of my word. If you are involved in the comedy community just keep your ear to the ground as these things have a habit of spreading like wildfire. After all, I only promised not to put it on the blog. And it’s worth hearing…I defy you not to laugh when you do…

Come the Saturday evening in Weston, and neither Steve Hall nor myself could handle the pace of such a kicking town so decided to head back home.

It's always an absolute pleasure to spend a car journey with Steve, we used to do the Comedy Network (uni gigs tour) together so have spent many an hour watching the street lights stream by. Since last years Fringe he has certainly grown as an act and in his own confidence. He truly deserves all the success he is enjoying with We Are Klang and the knock-on effect of this meaning he is no longer underrated as a stand-up will hopefully be imminent.

And the rest of the time I have been away has been spent putting together the podcast. It was meant to be out on 4th June, but I think that may now switch to late on the 5th as Mr Bennett from Chortle (who are hosting it) is away.

It’s really not worth getting overly excited by.

The quality is negligible in places, the language is choice and the content is from time-to-time factually incorrect…in fact, it is an uncannily accurate representation of my life.

The Ray Peacock Podcast Myspace Page

Tonight I am off to compere Bracknell (hooray) and then do a spot at Hatfield University's Ball at 1am...they won't be all drunk surely? I have every confidence it will be a dream gig...