Archive for the ‘Humour’ Category
With the world the way it is at the minute we all need a laugh from time to time. Comedy clubs have sprung up all over the country as an alternative to the inauspicious working men’s clubs where the comedians of the seventies plied their art.
Showcase cinemas have not been slow to notice this and they made a very substantial investment in live entertainment. It has not escaped their notice that people are starting to stay away from cinemas because of the recession and the explosion of illegal downloading.
Martin, the General Manager of Showcase Coventry, was there to greet me personally and show me around the new area. It soon became clear what they meant by substantial investment. A whole auditorium had had the seats ripped out and replaced with cabaret style tables and chairs. They had a good selection of food to order and a mobile bar set up. This was clearly a serious investment to them.
The food looked to be of fairly good quality and was obviously hot. I didn’t have any myself as we had eaten before we came out. Never mind, we will know next time. The beer was served in plastic pint glasses and was far from cheap. The wine, at least, came served in proper wine coolers. So far so good.
Comedy shows never start on time, they start when they are ready. Comedians need a fair bit of preparation (or in some cases Dutch courage) as they have a lot to remember. It also gave people time to get in the mood, i.e. half-cut.
The compare was a northern lad, Dave Twentyman, who I later learned was an amateur boxer. A compare of comedy is never an enviable job, like being the first soldier to hit the beach. But he carried it off well, keeping the audience chuckling until the first act came on.
Steve Day, act number one, did a fair set. He told us about his time on the Cruise ships, trying to be funny to the nearly dead in what was basically a floating hearse. He told us about his African wife and five kids. Steve is also deaf, note the little ‘d’ in deaf, which means nearly but not quite. Deaf with a capital D means totally. So here we have a Journalist with a stutter reviewing a deaf comedian. Honestly it’s like the blind leading the… never mind. But was he funny? Yeah, not bad.
Our Dave came back on for ten minutes while half the crowd queued at the bar. Serving vast numbers of people from a portable bar is like towing a caravan in a mini. It can be done but never that quickly.
Act number two was a little Hindu guy called Dave Biswas. He started off with a few one-liners that were generally well received, but his material didn’t really cover the things that the crowd could relate to. He had not had the easiest life, suffering from something like Aspergers syndrome and he told us all about it. He became repetitive after a while and people lost interest. I think he needs to throw out most of his material and start again.
Our Dave returned, and he wasn’t slow in noticing the edgy mood of the crowd so he wasted no time in introducing the headlining act.
It is no exaggeration to say that Ivan Brackenbury saved the show. My better half said he reminded her “of that bald bloke with the long hair.” It took me a few minutes to work out that she was referring to Bill Bailey. I understood what she meant, Ivan’s act was mostly music driven. He played the part of a hospital disc jockey, something I suspect he did in real life. Ivan had excellent comic timing and could literally make a joke out of any song or ailment you can mention, usually both in the same sentence. He got the best response out of the audience, and left us feeling like the whole thing had been a worthwhile visit. Of all the acts, he is the one I expect to get his own series.
So the following night I managed to catch up with Dave Twentyman for a quick chat on Facebook, while the better half was engrossed in Dancing on Ice.
What was the best heckle you have ever had and what was your come-back?
I’ve been racking my head for ages trying to think of heckles I’ve had. But the only thing that sticks in my mind wasn’t a heckle as such,but it was bloody awkward.
It was in Jongleurs in Battersea. I was having a cracking gig,but these people sat at a table at the front kept chatting. So I thought I’d better sort it out. I said “hey, it’s not the telly this, I can see u when you’re talking”. The room fell silent & these people just stared at me. To bring the atmosphere back up I tried to engage them a bit by asking where they were from. “Rwanda” was the stern reply in this strong african accent (they were black) & I came straight back with “oh, it’s a good film that”, which got a massive laugh.
What do Northern comics have that Southerners don’t?
That’s a good question regarding the North/South thing. There’s no difference in quality but a Northern accent is so much more distinctive & it sounds friendlier. It’s much more difficult for a Southern comic to gig up North than it is for a Northerner to gig down South…which is good. Sod um, they live longer than us.
So if you want a change from watching saturday night telly and you live in the Coventry area why not check it out? More details are available here
Coventry Showcase on a map:
Oh God, what have they been up to now? Rather like the Jackass generation of yesteryear my friends at Bluebeard’s revenge seem to be on a mission to get themselves into as much trouble as possible.
Flagrantly ignoring health and safety they decided, since they clearly had no bathroom, to shave in a lion’s enclosure. Like you do. This is what happened next, roll VT Bob:
Here is a report of the following disaster:
Britain’s manliest man Sacha Harding is under investigation by West Country police after a marketing stunt that saw a soldier’s face ripped off by a lion.
The pair had been taking part in a shaving challenge at Dartmoor Zoo. The soldier fell against the bars of the lion’s cage during the ‘shave off’. It’s thought that the big cat sprayed him in the eyes with urine, which caused him to fall forward, allowing the lion to attack his head and face. His condition is said to be stable although it is not yet clear whether he is off the critical care lists.
Zoo keepers believe the man’s anxiety levels antagonised the animal. They point out that cats are very sensitive to smell and they believe that the lion decided to spray mark the victim to cover this odour. They also point out that he cut himself while taking part in the challenge which may have triggered a blood lust in this powerful beast.
The challenge was being run by ‘The Bluebeards Revenge’ – a shaving cream that is marketed as manly. This was intended to be the first in a series of challenges that would see Sacha Harding take on many different challengers. Now, Health and Safety bosses are checking whether the correct precautions were taken to ensure the stunt was safe. However, the company’s website openly claims to be opposed to ‘over the top health and safety clap trap’. It is expected that this will make it difficult for them to defend their actions.
Sacha Harding became Britain’s Manliest Man after winning a competition run in the Daily Express. 140,000 people voted the professional rugby player to first place. His prize has been to become the face of the shaving cream. A prize that tonight sees him helping Dartmoor Police with their investigation…
Lads, lads, just do a photoshoot on a beach with a few hot models and a surfboard. Trust me, your product will sell.
Should I really be encouraging their antics with this kind of attention… umm, no. But something in my high school mentality just keeps me watching.
Comedian Jessica Delfino is back on home soil after a month shocking the hell out of the UK from as far north as Edinburgh to as far south as Reading. Just to bring her back down to earth she was promptly told to repack her unwashed laundry and pushed on to a train down to the deep south for a week to entertain the good people of North Carolina.
Having survived all that she finally put her feet up to check her e-mail and there is this guy from England trying to contact her for another interview. The true professional that she is, she got back to me pretty much straight away.
The Vagina song: My Pussy is Magic! Do you think (Whhhooohhoooooooowww!!) Bodyform or Fannyfresh Sanitary towels will be using it for their advertising campaign?
Actually, Always (brand of maxi pads) has already just recently begun using a “Magic” slogan / angle in a new ad campaign. I’m expecting a royalty check in the mail, but it probably “got lost”. Anyway, I’ve explained before — my pussy isn’t really magic, its just really tight, like one of those chinese finger traps. But I couldn’t have written a song called “My Pussy Is Like A Chinese Finger Trap” because that would have been racist.
When Sir Walter Raleigh returned from the UK he brought back Tobacco and Potatoes for Queen Elizabeth to try. “Thats right, Liz, you burn the leaves in your face, sure it’s safe, babe.” If you had an audience with President Obama, what would you bring him back from the UK and why?
I’d bring him one of those sweet ass Twirl chocolate bars with all that chocolate bunched up like a crumbly scroll of confection perfection, because them shits just melt in your mouth. We’d eat them together, savoring each chocolate wrinkle, discussing the importance of taking a moment to feast upon a tasty treat with a friend. I would make no metaphoric references or racial comparisons to the goodys we enjoyed. It’s not about race. It’s about the snack, man.
Do you feel any wiser for the UK experience?
You betcha. I learned that driving on the wrong side of the road is easy, climbing mountains is best done during daylight hours except that sometimes if you climb during the day, you get stung by wasps, buddhists are nice and cook yummy, gassy food, there are good sights to be seen in the UK, Faith No More still rocks, my friends are awesome, my UK fans and new friends are way cooler than other people who suck, the 24 hour stomach bug comes on quickly and is a huge asshole, and pounds are so much better than dollars. But the last one I already knew, it was just reiterated. Also, the Brits do not call their phone a “jingly-doo”.
Did you get as many Wolf-whistles in the UK as you did in the US?
Naw, UK dudes are polite. Even the flirtatious Russell Brand was a gentleman. Instead of “wolf-whistling” me, as you call it (we call it “cat-calling”) they strolled up, removed their top hats, announced the style of weather we were surrounded by, invited me to enjoy a hot beverage or trip to the countryside and if I declined, bid me a good day.
I was watching Dirty Dancing on a loop as is the custom in my household, and my entire family called on a conference call to break the news. I am still not quite the woman I used to be. All my childhood heros are dying. It’s a real drag fest, and not the fun kind where the men all wear huge high heels.
We saw the Tyra Banks episode you were in, your Borat-like take on the show had her pretty well stitched up. I am so glad that American TV caters so well for the mentally retarded. Could you tell us how this all started? (You going on the show, that is. Not the ice age, dinosaurs, and all that shit)
A casting person called me and asked me to be on the show. I knew I had to do something a little silly. I wish I’d gone even more overboard, but your hands are kind of tied. The shows are edited and aired later, so even if I did something super fun, it would’ve gotten taken out. Tyra has prehistoric shark eyes. I looked for a glimmer of soul in them, but all I saw were colored contacts.
On Nov 12 I have a show at Ars Nova, a really cool and subversive comedy theater in NYC which I’m really excited about, and I’m going to be performing in the NY Comedy Festival as part of the Andy Kaufman Award Show. I was asked to make a video for the show, here is mine:
So there you have it. If you feel an uncontrollable desire to see her perform live keep checking her myspace page (remember those?) or on her twitter account or her blog.
Well since we are playing catch up this week I thought it would be a great idea to hook up with Sara Benincasa, the girl from New Jersey who has been tickling funny-bones from New York to South Carolina.
She will be working her one-woman show, Agorafabulous, every Saturday night from 1 August until 29 August at the Pit in New York City (check out http://www.thepit-nyc.com). She can induce an asthma attack on anybody old and rich just by saying stuff on stage, but she charges extra for that.
So I finally managed to stalk, sorry track down, this lady for a little chat:
Sarah Palin recently resigned her post as Governor of Alaska, doing you out of living as a Palin impersonator. Does this bitch have no considereration for other people’s comedy careers? Doesn’t she realize we are in the middle of a recession? How could she do this to a struggling commedienne?
The shows are going really well. Are you surviving life on the road more or less?
Delfino’s amazing. She plays an entire song on the rape whistle. I believe the song is called “Don’t Rape Me.” It’s the most offensive thing I’ve ever loved.
Seth Grahame Smith, you have a lot to answer for buddy!
First it was Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, a timeless tale of love, loss, and flesh eating monsters.
Now Quirky books brings you Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters.
In the same format, they took a PDF file for a classic and inserted the sea monster carnage in red print. Probably after one joint too many by the looks of it.
Allow me to read you a small extract:
“As she lay gasping on the bank, soaked by the fetid water and the foul juices of the monster, spitting small bits of brain and gore from the corners of her mouth, a gentleman clad in a diving costume and helmet, and carrying a harpoon gun, ran to her assistance,” write Austen and her new co-author, Brooklyn writer Ben H Winters. “The gentleman, opening the circular, hinged portcullis on the front of his helmet, offered his services; and perceiving that her modesty declined what her situation rendered necessary, took her up in his arms without further delay and carried her down the hill.”
So far there has been no official reaction to this splicing of literature and carnage. When PP and Z came out the old lits were remarkable game about it, I suppose as they figured it was a one-off. But if this turns into a whole genre they may go shouty crackers at us.
And it is turning into a genre at a rapid rate. According to US copyright law the book has to have been published before 1923 for it to be usable for a re-print of this fashion. Coming soon we have (deep breath):
Queen Victoria: Demon Hunter
I am Scrooge: A zombie story for christmas
Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.
A Farewell to Arms and Legs
So you get the picture, right? Monster mash ups are the new big thing in Borders with PP and Z selling 50,000 copies in the UK and 600,000 in the US. And there are movies in the pipeline too, PP and Z being only the first. How long before Rob Zombie or Lloyd Kaufmann catch on to all this? I think Kaufmann would find it more appealing, this being the man who brought us Cannibal: The musical.
So I will definitely be buying a copy of SS and S when it comes out, it looks fun. Available 15th September
A flash message communicated to the Admiralty early this morning gave a thrilling message. Captains Bob Geldof and Roger Taylor had won a fantastic naval victory of Ibiza in the Balaeric Islands, defeating Count Leopold Bismarck in open combat.
What were two wrinkly rock stars doing taking on the Kreigsmarine in the Mediterrainean? Well it was all for charity.
At the Ibiza Regatta earlier last week the two were appointed Captain of the sailing yachts Alexa and Tiger Lily. Up against them was Count Bismarck in Bushido, determined to avenge the loss of the ship named after his ancestor, to the British navy.
The battle at sea was long and fierce with Geldof and Bismarck giving no quarter. Finally in a display of sheer balls-out seamanship Geldof sailed dangerously close to the rocks, and far off course, to cut across the bow of Bismarck. The two ships drew level and boarding parties fought tooth and oar. In the end it was Geldof who won the day and Bismarck congratulated him on his sportsmanship.
At the after-party a large cheque was signed and much champagne was drunk as the two toasted their success as the ghosts of Drake and Nelson applauded wildly.
Cancel all army leave, call up the riot police, roll back the carpets and load up the shotguns. Because Jessica Delfino is coming to England.
Jess has been making her name on the stand-up circuit over the last few years and this lady has some unusual trophies in her collection. She won the Stoned Spelling Bee contest (self-explanatory, but it sure sounds funny). She managed a record-breaking mayoral campaign for Christopher Brodeur.
She has featured on BBC radio’s Loose Ends programme and Russell Brand’s radio show. Jesus, imagine those two together.
And, God help us, she is coming to the UK later this year. She will be playing gigs at the Leeds and Reading festivals, Edinburgh and Soho.
More recently she played live shows across Ireland and Edinburgh. Here is some of her stand up show.
So we grabbed her sorry ass, sat her down and shone a light in her face. She asked for her lawyer and a phone call. We tightened the handcuffs. Finally she cracked. Here is her confession.
According to the Catholic Church you are going to burn in hell. Who are you looking forward to meeting down there?
All of the people who have told me I’d be going to hell. See ya there, suckers! But seriously, I don’t really believe in hell. I think I’m there, now. I think that Hell is a place on Earth, sorta like that Belinda Carlisle song.
And they say you have been providing ammunition to the terrorists? What type of ammo is the most popular among the Taliban these days?
According to the Catholic League, the Taliban apparently really like using f-bombs (and other “f” words) and also vaginas full of glitter, sprinkles and rainbow fluff as their weapons of choice. The worst part about getting hit with a fanny full of glitter is getting all the sparkles out of your clothing and hair later. It’s a real bitch to clean up and the Taliban knows that.
You recently toured Ireland, any road stories you care to tell? They have a wonderful way of giving road directions.
At the end of my Roisin Dubh show in Galway, I requested someone in the audience drive me to the Cliffs of Moher or get me some pot. A cute gent named Cian came to my rescue. He said he had his starter’s permit and could accommodate both of my requests. The next morning he and his friend “Crazy Mary” met me at my hotel, and he, she, myself and a friend drove in his tiny car with a huge red “L” on the windshield through the beautiful, hairpin curves of the countryside to the cliffs. I kept expecting Jimmy Page to leap out from behind a rock and play Bron Yr Aur. Every time we met another car, one of us had to pull over so the other could pass. We met a parade of really old time-y vehicles on our way and I thought maybe we’d accidentally driven through some ancient Celtic porthole. Parking at the cliffs cost a lot but Cian was a local and knew a secret off site spot in some farmer’s field so we parked on his potato patch and walked fromthere.
The cliffs were breathtaking. I was floored that it wasn’t fenced in the way America has fenced in every natural wonder we have. Cian said several people leapt over the cliffs each year. I say “thank you” to the Irish government for letting their people govern themselves. Jumping off a cliff is a basic human right.
You are performing in two festivals this year, so you may never feel clean again. Have you ever tried using a rickety chemical toilet at 03.00 after your fifth joint?
I heard no one uses the chemical toilets at all. I heard they just go on the ground and dance in it until it becomes a swarming fecal cesspool. I look forward to observing the indigenous festival peoples, and maybe even participating in their local pastimes, as well.
Could you happily live in London?
I LOVE London. London loves comedy, and Londoners are smart and quick, and funny and ribald themselves. London is a city I could happily live in. But I’m currently in love with another city. NY City is amazing. It treats you like shit, overcharges you to live and eat, swallows you up in it’s grandeur, makes sure you know you’ll never be good enough, and acts like it’s shit doesn’t stink. NY is like an abusive boyfriend that you just can’t leave. So though I could happily live in London, London and I would first have to devise a plan to KILL NY.
Your forefathers brought Nylons and Hershey bars to our country in return for a good time. What are you bringing, in return for a good time?
I’m bringing a good time in exchange for nylons and chocolate. So get your London Hosiery and your Cadbury Flakes and Crunchies ready for me.
Jessica is playing the following dates.
Latitude Festival — July 17-19
Soho Theatre — July 21-15 @ 21:55, every night in “More Dirty Folk Rock”. Mon & Tue are two for one £.
Duckie in Battersea, London — August 1
Edinburgh Fringe Festival @ Jekyll and Hyde, “Jessica Delfino — I Wanna Be Famous” 21:55 Aug 6-25
Reading & Leeds Festivals — August 28-30
You may not have heard of this book but it is an updated classic, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, with a bit of a twist. Comedy author Seth Grahame-Smith has liberally added a sprinkling of undead violence and bloodletting just to spice things up a bit. As Barry Norman would say, and why not?
And according to the L.A. Times Hollywood studios are queuing up for the movie rights.
The synopsis is that England is under siege from a zombie hoard with London a walled city to keep out the ‘manky dreadfuls’. Most of the cast live within this walled city surrounded by privilege. Very much like real life then.
Grahame-Smith started by pasting the text of the classic novel on to a word document then added the zombie parts in a red font.
Who could resist such a wonderfully silly idea to defile a classic novel with a bit of shock horror?
Apparently Jane Austin enthusiasts have been remarkably game about the book, and are looking forward to seeing the big screen adaptation.
More on this story as it develops.
Well the G20 was a huge success by all accounts. But if you want to know what really happened you had to be reading their twitter feed from about 23.00-05.00 that night.
President Obama was sat at dinner next to the leaders of Korea, Germany and Japan. Three countries his predecessors had systematically bombed to hell. If the waiter was Vietnamese the image would be complete.
Down the table the Czech premier would be drowning his awkwardness in beer, while next door the Netherlands premier went outside for a relaxing spliff.
Opposite Gordon Brown we had the premier of Saudi Arabia, who was probably bewildered, wondering which eye was real.
Brazil and Mexico probably got on well, leaving Russia with Turkey to chat to, never an easy moment, given their mutual history.
Sarkozy of France and the Spanish premier would be talking over South Africa, who was sat between them. He probably wanted to crawl over a minefield to get out of there.
On the opposite corner we have Kevin Rudd, the Aussie premier, who was probably in a blind panic, never having seen so much cutlery in his whole life. Next to him we have the king of Ethiopia, who had probably never seen so much food in his whole life, God love him.
So after dinner Brown decides to take them all into town. He has had a load of t-shirts printed, one for each of them.
On the front it says G20 Crew – What goes on tour stays on tour.
On the back it says their names. Obama – Mr Prezz. Brown – Hawkeye, France – I Only Shag Supermodels, Australia – No Worries, Ethiopia – King Rasta, and so on.
So they take a convoy of taxis into town and have a look around. Brown apologizes for all the mess, they had a bit of a riot this morning, apparently. London looked like a war zone. Broken bottles, hair, lost testicles and blood spilled over the mean streets. So where best to start but a strip bar?
Well they walk in and France isn’t impressed, He is shagging Carla Bruni so obviously none of this lot are good enough for him. He takes particular exception to the tall blonde on the door, and Brown has to explain that it is, in fact, Peter Stringfellow, the owner of the bar. Obama is busy signing the strippers tits, like a pro. He gets a two girl lap dance. Indonesia spends the next twenty minutes in the bathroom then comes out all sweaty. Brown does his trick where he stick his glass eye between the strippers tits, squishes them together then catches it in his mouth.
Next they get a bit hungry so they move on to a Chinese place on Old Kent Road. It is run by a cousin of the Chinese Premier, apparently. Jamie Oliver’s portions were a bit shady, so they were starving. Then while they were sat there this Chinese Elvis guy comes on stage and gives them a rousing rendition of ‘Heartblake Hotew’.
After that what can you do but move on to a sticky carpet disco, and seen how the other half lives. Mexico gets the tequila shots in, Netherlander goes down the street to score some weed. Aussie boy would definitely have taken them to Earls court, to see a proper London boozer, run, naturally by an all-Australian bar team.
I was fairly lucky when my parents named me. I come from a fairly noble old Irish family with a sensible name. Heck, we even have our own crest, a cross with a sun and moon on the arms. We have a motto ‘God is my help’ (though I sometimes think ‘God help us’ would have been more appropriate). They picked a good first name, Nicholas, which could be shortened to the well-hard sounding Nick.
So spare a thought for the poor souls with less than salubrious names. Such unsung heroes and heroines as:
Jenny Taylor (keep saying it fast and you will get the joke)
Mr Titman (I actually served this guy once. I didn’t meet his wife, which was a shame).
Tim O’ Tahy
Susan Melley (She went to school with my mum)
Sue Mee (And she was a solicitor to boot)
And if you think that’s bad spare a thought for her brother Roger…