Firstly, an apology as this will be yet again another very long blog. Various interesting things that I feel should be brought to your attention, but rather than write about then in palatable exciting portions as they happened, I thought it much better to bombard you all with an overdrawn essay.

I have lied to you slightly. When I say 'various interesting things', I mean only three 'things'. The first two of these I will lightly skim over for your benefit. These shall preside under the intelligent heading 'Christmas Audiences are Sh*t'.

Section 1: Christmas Audiences are Sh*t

Last week we had the final Fat Tuesday of the season. I had been looking forward to this show as the entire season so far had been great line-up and audience wise, will 5 out of 6 being sell-outs. There is little else you could ask for. So when the tickets for the last show started selling very well I was pleased. Yes, I overlooked the fact that 22 of the tickets were going to the Christmas works-do party of a bunch of human rights workers. On first reading and from previous experience of human rights workers, I thought I rightly assumed that they would be a great bunch of down-to-earth types, who righteously save impoverished people and will be well behaved while enjoying a good laugh. Sadly I was only half right with this judgement. Yes they do save peoples lives, however, as a audience they are terrible. Promising a group of 22 and agreeing to arrive early to sort out seating, only 16 appeared 15 minutes into what should have been the start of the show. After delaying the evening they proceeded to talk through the acts, getting up to offer each other drinks and subsequently ruining punch lines and atmosphere. Lacking bouncers in our venue, I dealt with it as the MC, and then each of the acts also dealt with them during their sets. In the interval I asked them to stop it or leave resulting in us losing half of our audience. This decidedly shitty atmosphere was worsened by a chap called Mohammad taking offence at one of the acts jokes about the 'Mohammad' teddy bear, resulting in a religious debate during the first 30 minutes of the show. I'm sure you can imagine that warmed the crowd up to no end. Hooray for touchy religions, I don't think.

After the interval, it did get better with most of the talkers having left and Paul Tonkinson being very very good. Ultimately though, despite the fact that it was a top line-up, all seats sold so extra Xmas money for me, it was still a sad way to end a great season. A good example of a time when the audience ruin the gig, not the comic.

Not being at a high enough comedic level to do all the big Christmas shows, I usually only hear about the state of audiences in December, never really witnessing the horror that is created by winter crowds. Sadly it happened twice last week, as the Friday following Fat Tuesday I did a gig in Kingston with football thugs in the front row. This time my 25 minute set became a 15 minute set as I was told that its 'lucky you ain't a gooner 'cos I would've kicked your head in if you were'. As you might guess, this is the sort of heckle where a clever put down would mostly only confuse them and lead to unnecessary violence. So I did what any weak spineless short beardy man would do, and cut out all my remotely intelligent stuff, before running away ten minutes early promising myself to never ever do that gig again.

Section 2: International Comedian

This weekend I was able to officially upgrade my comedy status from an at who 'performs all over the UK' to 'international comedian' as I embarked on a mini entertainment based adventure to North Cyprus.

Having spent much of my youth at a school with both Greek and Turkish pupils, North Cyprus was something of an enigma to me. Both factions of the Mediterranean kids would be best of friends, apart from during the months after a long summer holiday back in Cyprus. After this there would be several playground battles about whose island it really was, causing the teachers to create barriers not dissimilar to the English troops.

North Cyprus is not legally a country. Well not according to the UN anyway and you wouldn't mess with their say so unless you were a hell bent war dictator from the US. So only according to Turkey is it actually a place, ever since they invaded Cyprus in the 60's. Its not my place to say whether they are in the right or not, even though after studying it, they are clearly not, but it makes North Cyprus an interesting place to be. By crossing a small border and wiping your feet on a mat (not etiquette but actually to prevent the spreading of foot and mouth. Not sure entirely how a carpet prevents diseases. I wonder if Cypriot doctors rub peoples faces with carpet if they are ill. Perhaps they are just the magic carpets of Turkish folklore. We will never know.) the country changes from Greek Orthodox to Muslim, with architecture, language and tradition changing with it. Oh and generally there are a lot less tourists.

But it has become a large haven for UK ex-pats due to cheap land, nice weather and other things British cities no longer have. So now the next thing is to entertain this large ex-pat community, sending myself, Barry Dodds, Andrew Murrell and Rex Boyd as sacrifice for the first ever comedy show north of Nicosia.

The gig itself was great. These people were so desperate for something to do that they treated us like comedy gods. There were a few issues with people talking during the middle section, but most of the people involved apologised to as afterwards, which is something that wouldn't happen in, say, anywhere in the UK ever. And the people were lovely. There was the odd one or two weird ones (never before have I been chatted up by a mother and daughter at the same time, and never ever again do I want to be.) but mostly it was interesting to hear all about to live abroad. All jokes worked too. In fact rarely have I seen an audience so easy to please. After the gig, they refused to let us be dull and go to bed (believe me, I tried.) and bought us drinks till 5.30am in the kind of bar I loathe with music I hate. However, several drinks and I was more than happy to be there.

The only problem with the weekend was all the travelling. Admittedly I got to Cyprus quicker than it took to drive to Bangor in Wales last Monday, but North Westerly Wales is of no comparison to a Mediterranean beach island, no matter what the Welsh tell you. As anyone who's ever flown can tell you, sitting on your arse on a plane is tiring. I still cant work out why, but it is. We flew out early Saturday morning, then drove an hour and a half to the gig, had two hours, then did the gig, partied till the wee hours, and reversed the whole journey the next day. Needless to say I was knackered. Its a crazy amount of miles to be travelled in such a short space of time, something that was re-iterated by our cabin crews confusion that we had only been on the plane the day before. They had just assumed we really didn't like it over there.

It was a good experience though, and I realise that no matter how far away a gig is, its always the same scenario of not having the time to see the area. Of all the places I've been in the UK, I might claim to have visited, but I only really know the upstairs of a pub, the cellar of and arts centre or the comedy club in town. Its just enough to make those three jokes at the top of your set to re-assure the crowd you know everything about where they live. That, as they say, is the magic of show business. Although from the comedians point of view, its more the tragic children's party magician than the glamour of David Blaine.

Section 3: In Addendum

There was a lot more I wanted to type about, but judging the length of this essay it could be my first novel. So you will never know about the poo bin, Barry getting cat aids, the poisoned Jack Daniels, the gangsters or that Stardust is actually half decent. If you see me, do ask.

Oh and if you are lucky/unlucky (depending on your views of the terrible popular music scene) enough to have MTV, watch '2007's Most Shocking Stories'. I say two funny things as a talking head. Only two mind, but goddamn I'm proud of those two.

I have just returned home from seeing the GZA/Genius of Wu-Tang fame perform his entire groundbreaking album of 1995, 'Liquid Swords' (or as pronounced by many a Wu-Tang member 'Liquid Schwwwaaaaaards'). Sadly despite the fact that I have been looking forward to this since being 14 hip hop lovin' years of age, it has once again joined the ranks of gigs that don't quite live up to the self created hype.

There were several reasons for this, including the very poor sound, and the inability to see thanks to my vertically challenged height as well as the bad layout of the venue. The final straw was the main man GZA getting blindingly drunk and acting less like the hardcore member of one of the most influential hip-hop groups of the 90's and more like that weird tramp in the park who shouts at people and chases imaginary insects with his eyes.

But despite these things most people seemed to really enjoy the gig, except me. I begun to wonder if it is just my own high standards of expectation of how the gig should be, combined with my ever increasing inability to tolerate a lack of comfort. Looking back on gigs I haven't enjoyed of late this seems to be a common factor. Kanye West's performance in Edinburgh was spectacular, however the dickheads that were all around me, barging me and acting like Scotland invented rap were not. The Stones Throw gig in Camden was not the best set list I've ever seen a group do, but was it more to do with the fact my feet hurt and I was a bit tired? And true, the Beastie Boys set at Bestival was pretty shoddy, with none of the tracks anyone wanted to hear, but could my disappointment have been increased by the fact I couldn't really see anything due to the four men dressed as bananas right in front of me, and my knowledge that I would get little sleep due to the arseholes in the tent next to me who wanted to know 'where Dave was? And when is he coming back?' ( I was tempted after an hour of this stoned conversation to shout 'he's dead! I killed him because he kept f*cking talking'. But I didn't.)

Doing comedy, it takes the edge of my enjoyment of watching other comedians. Admittedly, there are still quite a few acts who I always enjoy watching, and would pay to see, but you know how they do what they do, because you do it too. (Re-reading that line, I realise that it sounds funny if sung in a Bing Crosby style. Try it, its great.) Music is not like that. Music still holds an air of mysticism for me. I am pretty much musically inept, and so watching someone play a great music gig is my escapism. I hold great respect for musicians and hence I am one of those irritating people at parties who when someone is attempting to engage me in conversation about music I will say I 'like everything' and proceed to talk to you about for hours, trapping you by the stairs when you just want another beer. I'm that into my music that it means it truly annoys me when a gig is bad.

I hope it isn't just because I'm getting old and grouchy, but I think I can justify the crapness of these aforementioned bad gigs because all of them could have avoided such high levels of mediocrity without too much difficulty. Well apart from the Kanye West show. The only solution to that would have been if everyone who bought tickets was fielded first and only specifically chosen people were allowed in. Unfortunately though but that's how fascism starts and I would prefer to stand next to a nob-end of a human being than for Nazis to run large music venues. In the case of the others though, all an audience deserves for the ticket price are these things:
1) The performer to want to be there. That's pretty key.
2) The performer to do the stuff people want to hear. Some new stuff is allowed, but what is not, is playing an hour of instrumentals instead of playing a single track anyone actually knows until the very end, and consequently boring 11,000 people. Beasties, are you paying attention?
3) The venue's sound to work. A simple sound check is all that is required to stop us thinking the acts are slurring (Bob Dylan is an exception) and the drum's aren't the only instrument (Drum 'n' Bass gigs are an exception).
4) Enough space in the venue for everyone to be able to breathe and maybe wiggle at least an elbow in an attempt to dance without decapitating the small beardy man next to them.

My three favourite gigs in the last 18 months have done all of these things as well as leaving long lasting memories of amazing music. At Radiohead in Edinburgh 2006, they played two and a half hours of all the tracks everyone wanted to hear, in an outdoor venue on a hot night as the sun was setting, a few minutes walk from where I was staying. Poifect and I was able to buy a t-shirt. At Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings at the Jazz Cafe earlier this year, the funk was so infectious that everyone was dancing. And I could see no matter where I stood. Bonus. And lastly, a few months ago, Joanna Newsom at the Royal Albert Hall. Her voice sent shivers down my spine and her songs were amazing, but also, I got to sit down for the duration.

I like to think of this not so much as fussiness, but more musical maturity. At least I hope that this is true. I dread to think that the day will come when I will only go to a live show if I can sit in an armchair in my pajamas, hovering above the stage, while the band plays the only three songs I like. Although saying that, it does sound very very good.

I have had several journeys to gigs of late, that involve me being by myself in the car for very long distances and periods of time. As I am a man who gets easily bored, the monotony of the ever winding road has led me to become a master of inventing new and exciting ways to keep myself entertained on a long journey.  

Disclaimer: Don't try these at home kids. Mainly because they are games for car journeys. It wont really work at home.

Musical games ( to be used when bored perhaps 30 mins into journey):

DIY I-Pod Shuffle -

This is not particularly exciting, but as you'll see, its only 30 minutes into the journey and using my i-pod, and a clever thing that tunes it into the radio, I see if I can out shuffle the i-pod by randomly spinning the dial on the 'songs' selection and guessing what the track will be. Sadly I have never ever won this game.  Mainly because its dull and I give up after 3-4 goes, but also because out of 7000 tracks, it could be anything. The game has now evolved into me trying to get tracks that relate by randomness. For example 'like irregular chickens' by Kid Koala, into 'Chicken in a Box' by Mr Scruff, into 'Glory Box' by Portishead. This rarely happens though and instead I tend to just select tracks I did not even know even existed on my i-pod, and which I can only blame on my girlfriend and her poor taste in music.  

However, thanks to my computer wiping my i-pod, this game has been substituted for the game below, until I can once again fully update my i-pod which seems to take an eternity.

Create Your Own Radio Stories -  

The stereo on my car is a bit sh*tty. Not as sh*tty as my friend Mike's old car stereo however. The number 5 button did not work on it, and when the car had its battery replaced, the stereo reset itself, and the password key to unlock was 4555. Hence, very sh*tty.  

My stereo is unable to remember radio stations. This didn't used to bother me as everyday was merely an i-pod journey. But now, with the absence of technology I have begun to understand the joys of radio. Current favourite programmes being Jools Holland's show on a Monday, Funk Factory on a Tuesday and Mark Lamarr and the Weekender both on a Friday. As much shows due to their musical eclecticness and the fact that because of them I will find more exciting tracks to scour the Amazon used and new section, there is a more fun game to play. Well its not that fun, but it involves you switching your tuner to automatic, and hitting the switch so that it flicks automatically to the next station. You do this to create exciting stories or conversations using the sentences you hear. Example (from last night's trip back from Cardiff):

'..so if you want to hear some true old school English soul...' flick
'...try calling her. I'm sure she wants to resolve the situation as much as you...' flick
'...said Hanuman, the wisest, swiftest and strongest of all apes.'

That's special.

Sing like Tom Waits -

Sometimes I decide that I will attempt to sing in a Tom Waits accent to any song that appears on said radio/i-pod. This can be funny when you turn dull pop songs into eccentric and often disturbing jazz pieces. This weeks favourite is the awful and bland Shane Ward song 'Breathless' becoming a heart broken love lament, and at sometimes a bit rapey.  
The downside to this game is that if you play it enough on the way to a gig, it can ensure that your throat is sufficiently damaged, therefore hampering your performance ruining the only reason you've been driving for bloody ages in the first place.

Imagination games (to be used when quite bored but not yet bored enough to be dangerous):

Points scoring -

Thanks to much recent playing of the computer game 'Burnout: Revenge', and previous years of playing GTA and the legendary Carmageddon, I imagine that I can clock up points were I to hit or damage other items on the road. You might like to create your own points based system, as mine changes every journey due to forgetfulness. However, you might like to use the following few as indicators of the scoring:

People who walk right in front of your vehicle as you are driving - 7 points. Not many points because these arrogant f*ckers deserve to die and there should be laws that allow you to rev into them.

Swaying cyclists - 25 points. Only the ones who don't look behind and sway from left to right driving through red lights.

Smashing into the side of a shiny 4x4 - 150 points. They are easier to damage then their over protective planet killing owners believe.

Already dead roadkill - 3 points. Points are purely for the satisfying 'squelch' noise. 4 points if its a bear.

Middle lane hoggers - 200 points. Extra points for revving really fast past them, swearing at them, shouting move over and hitting them from the side as you do so.

Domino effect traffic jam rage - upwards of 4000 points.

Confusing other drivers -

I recently discovered thanks to acts putting their satnavs in my car, that my speedometer is 7 miles faster than the speed I am actually going at. This means at the ridiculous 50 miles an hour average speed camera sections of the motorway at 57mph, which is usually faster than the other cars who are believing in their speedometer. To cut to the chase, while on these sections of road, its very fun to drive alongside another vehicle and make imaginative faces at them, whilst either indicating that there is something wrong with their car or perhaps your own brakes. Make over elaborate faces and gestures before zooming off, leaving them baffled. Fun.

Making up swear words -

These can be directed at other drivers, areas, traffic jams or generally anything you feel deserves abuse of some sort. My rules are simply that it must be an old school phrase I haven't used in ages or a brand new word. This week I have resurrected 'div', and 'dicksplat' whilst inventing the term 'shit wizard'.

Dexterity games (only to be used when extremely bored and preferably the road is emptyish) -

Dodge the Cat's Eyes -

A game taught to me by Dave Hadingham and which many a seasoned travelling comic plays. When changing lanes, try and do so so that your tyres don't touch the cats eyes on the road. Tough but extremely satisfying when achieved. Even if it means you have to endlessly switch lanes unnecessarily just to do so, at the frustration of other road users.

The Passenger Side Reach -

You know that thing that fell of the passenger seat when you took a corner earlier. Well you want it now don't you? Even though its on the floor in the corner of the other side of the car. Hmm? Why not get it? Why not? Don't worry that you cant see the road while do. Just try, go on.

Road Chef -

Want to prove that you have magician's hands? Try using only one hand to drive whilst peeling a satsuma, tangerine or other citrus fruit of your choice with the other (oranges only to be used when at a professional level). Also try opening pistachio nuts or tearing that foil bit off the tops of bottles for fun food related malarkey whilst swerving the steering wheel in a dangerous manner.

In conclusion, I have realised that there is a very good and sufficient reason as to why comedians have extremely high insurance rates. Roll on the days of KITT becoming a reality.

Over the last two weeks the skies have become grey and gloomy. I can't stand waking up to days like this and attempting to be productive, knowing full well it would suit me much more to stay tucked up in bed with a mug of tea and lots of nice things to eat, read and watch. There is little to enjoy about this time of year. People are generally more grumpy, hiding their grimaces at the weather under many layers of scarfs, jackets and hats. This is partly due to the weather, but also because of the lack of daytime in our days. Humans aren't naturally nocturnal. Not even comedians, although it does seem to be the case at times. It feels like I'm only awake for a few hours before it's night again. This is probably factually true due to my ability to sleep in for too long thus becoming the protagonist of my own seasonal affected depression.

The countdown to Christmas also doesn't help, especially as it seems to have started as early as September this year. It is a commonly heard phrase 'ooh that company's Christmas ads/those Christmas lights/that dodgy slightly scary fat man dressed as Santa has started earlier than normal'. This is often right. I feel as if it will only be a matter of years until Christmas adverts start on Boxing Day as some sort of sick tribute to Slade's wish of everyday celebration. Of course they were horribly wrong with that song. Were it to be 'Christmas everyday', the world would fall into severe recession as people were unable to work and yet at the same time would need to purchase a constant supply of presents. Adults would die by the age of 30 due to excessive food and booze consumption and children would die from lack of sleep due to over excitement. The image that Slade were actually singing about was not a wonderful utopia but instead a horrible nightmarish view of a species destroying itself through greed.

This year I am on a mission to spend Christmas abroad. Don't get me wrong, I like Christmas at home. I enjoy the couple of days of rest, seeing family and friends as well as drinking and eating until I fall asleep in front of a disaster of a Christmas special on TV. The real reason for this planned venture is that its the only time of year that my girlfriend and I can go away together due to the unfair way that school timetables clash with important times of the year for comedy. Summer holidays clash with Edinburgh, Easter and October half terms with busy gig periods. So Christmas is the only reasonably lengthy break. Well at least until I'm a big enough act to do the Christmas shows anyway. And before you ask, my girlfriend isn't still at school, she's a trainee teacher. Although it would have made some holiday flight options cheaper if she was.

So we've been spending the last few days doing vast amounts of Internet searching for the ideal escape. We have indeed left it very late, and it appears that many other people are planning to escape Blighty this year too, as there's pretty much nothing left unless I want to hang out with the type of people I want to escape from in Lanzarote or somewhere even less desirable. But we are not to be defeated, and so the searching will continue until we find some sort of sunny retreat.

None of this is helped by my laptop deciding that it is starting to die. The battery has finally gone on it and it is only charging if I hold it at a very strange angle. the result of this is that I hold my head at a very strange angle too and my world is slowly becoming lopsided. I don't like it when technology dies. I think its a long deep seated issue that started with watching Optimus Prime die in Transformers the Movie (the cartoon one). I don't think I've ever recovered.

Not everything is doom and gloom. So far all gigs have been nice, even though a couple have been a tad odd. Having a slightly murderous heckle in Broadstairs ('we want to bury you in our gardens', said in the nicest possible way) was one such moment and a crazy almost treacherous journey to the Isle of Wight being another ( 7 hours of driving in torrential rain and a hi-speed ferry journey in turbulent waters). Fat Tuesday has also been lovely and sold out too which is always a plus and our last one for the year should be great too.

Also our kittens get neutered this week. Its not a nice thing on the whole, the operation and that, but it does mean they will be allowed outside soon. This is good news as they have just figured out how to climb on the highest shelves in our living room and onto our wall-hanging TV. Its only so funny saying 'the cats are on the TV' for a couple of times. After that I am beginning to get genuinely worried about the safety of our telly.

Tomorrow I have a gig where I have promised to do 10 minutes of surreal gags. Trouble is I haven't written any. I may just dress as a fish and sing a scat jazz version of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.