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14 Apr 2009

Post 120: More Ranting about Easter and there not being a god and some other stuff

This post will very definitely appear in several parts for several reasons:
1.I've been busy. I only got back from the Easter weekend at my parents house with my family (including my sister and her monsters, er kids, they may look like butter wouldn't melt but don't be fooled.
The kids are quite funny really, the two boys, Charlie, 6 and Rory, 10 are very American, accents and all, but the girl Madelaine,8 is sometimes American, Sometimes sounding more like Hermione from Harry Potter, she has clearly worked out that she can get whatever she wants with that accent at that age in the states. She is the smart one after all, the inadvertent high point of the weekend was when my dad (obviously joking said to 'spawn of satan' Charlie 'if you ring that doorbell again, I'm going to rip your head off'. Way to go Dad!
2.I should be resting; I only got back at midday today,I was immediately taken out to lunch by Markus and Judy Buhmann. Back in the day, Markus was my Djing protege meaning he would occasionally nip around to my house for a mix. I think these days he would be a shedload better than I ever was, at least I hope so. Then as soon as I got home the lovely Vicki was waiting to give me my hour of counselling, she has really turned things round for me – it's amazing what someone nice to talk to regularly can achieve especially when you're as emotionally frail as I am.
3.I have already written quite a bit of it on my computer and it’s got one or two important things I need to say in it so here goes:
I can't work out the last week gone at all. There have been a hotch potch of things that have seen my mood yo-yo. On the good side my new housekeeper/housemate/carer has arrived which has taken a massive weight off my mind. Another 50ish year old south african lady. People would be forgiven for thinking that I and my family clearly think the world would stop turning without them. My grandmother before she died had a live in middle aged south african lady as her carer. They really are indispensable and Adrienne, the lady who has bravely agreed to put up with me ticks all the boxes and is honest, compared to a certain lady I'd love to name but she has already demanded that I apologise for bismirching her 'impeccable' character and this blog is not about me grinding axes, I can't be arsed and don't have the energy. In the negative column for this week, there have been one or two people I've really wanted/ no needed to see for my mental health to have been ok, but
The other thing is that I have been to one or two events I want to
talk about but seeing as it’s Easter weekend now seems as good a time
as any to continue my rant against religion that I started in post
111.  Firstly, I would like to apologise to my religious friends for
what they possibly could read if they don’t stop right here.
I was inspired to continue my rant by going to see my mother sing in
Handel’s Messiah in Tonbridge School chapel on saturday. My first
thought was that both this magnificent piece of music and this amazing
building both existed to pay tribute to something that was clearly
nonsense.  Even worse, Tonbridge Chapel burnt down in the 80s, the
magnificent structure that now exists (apparently the most expensive
building of it’s type built in 20th Century Britain. Thanks for that
colossal waste of time, effort and money God.  When I was a pupil at
Tonbridge from 90-95, the chapel lay in ruins and the whole school was
forcibly herded into a temporary wooden shed every morning to listen
to some claptrap about a bloke named Jesus who allowed himself to die
in the most horrific and painful way imaginable a couple of thousand
years ago.  Ah ha – suddenly it all makes sense, the last two thousand
years have been about revenge.  Even this interpretation gives
religion too much credit and acknowledges the presence of some sort of
Supreme Being which I think is arse gravy of the highest order.
Instead I feel ready to pronounce a new theory consistent with Bill
Bailey’s theory about the assassination of Diana, (i.e. that she was
killed by a shadowy cabal of mug manufacturers), given that some of the
most magnificent buildings in the world are religious edifices,
religion could be a conspiracy of a shadowy cabal of builders or for convenience sake let’s say the freemasons, as blaming them for things is fashionable, as a lapsed mason
myself, something I joined in my student days as another way of
getting pissed with my mates.  Thinking about it now I don’t agree
with any of the stuff they stood for, elitism, secrecy, bizarre
rituals and belief in a supreme being, they couldn’t even tell me off
now for potentially revealing the secrets of freemasonry, I couldn’t
if I wanted to because I’ve forgotten them – they’re that memorable,
sod it, you could probably google them.
Anyway, back to the concert, even though I struggled to think of
anything else bar ‘all this effort for a load of old nonsense’. Even
though that was my enduring thought, I also rather enjoyed it because
I tend to mostly enjoy things I can absorb through my eyelids.
  Even though I went to Tonbridge school over 15 years ago this was the
first time I’d ever been in the rebuilt chapel which has been restored
quite well. It’s easy to see where all that money went. There’s even a
handmade organ that was built in Denmark. No-one saw Tonbridge School
coming then! It’s definitely a school chapel rather than a public
venue though. Helpfully, both disabled loos are up large steps, clearly they had thought that through,
something that almost spoilt my night but luckily I was able to
squeeze my wheelchair into a womens toilet in the interval. As the
queue outside got longer and longer and the comments got louder the
thought did cross my mind that it may be almost preferable being
seriously disabled to being a woman, nah, they’ve got breasts I
childishly thought, swings and roundabouts I suppose. What also struck
me was to do with the 4 soloists, The soprano was a rather gorgeous
girl who also sang quite well, the Alto was a rubbish old woman, even
I could tell she wasn’t very good, the tenor had what I can only
describe as an ‘unforgivable’ haircut, we’re talking a cross between a
king Charles spaniel and Kevin Keegans permed Mullet. I was offended
and I’m speaking as the past owner of one or two ‘unforgivable’
haircuts. The bass had a great voice but kept reminding me of that
Bugs Bunny cartoon of the opera singer who causes the collapse of an
Opera House with a sustained note. If you haven’t seen this episode
it’s a Christmas classic! God my mind works in odd ways
  The other thing I wanted to talk about was what my friend Ric
Sanderson took me to on Thursday evening, an Easter comedy
extravaganza in aid of Sue Ryder care at the Pleasance Theatre in
Islington. Ric is only over from Chicago with his lovely wife Becky
and gorgeous 3 year old daughter Zoe (Post 118) for a few days and
Thursday was the only night he had free and this comedy night looked
promising. For starters Ric drove impeccably, for a man used to an
automatic and driving on the wrong side of the road. Once we had
realised that the sat nav had taken us to the wrong place because we
had put the postcode in wrong. An easy mistake to make (it was N7, not
N1!) we finally got there and the evening was rather good bearing in
mind that ‘charidee’ events can be a bit hit and miss with the
occasional act being dross! Luckily there were only a couple of these
on this particular night whose names I fortunately forget, one was a
take off of a chav shop assistant called Leanne, whilst there were two
lame ‘comedy’ magicians who did a trick that I probably would have
been quite impressed with if I could have actually seen it! (despite
being in the front row, my eyesight is really screwed!)
Highlights of the evening were the brilliant compere (a northern bloke
called Rob Rous) who told a hilarious story about his dog fellating
itself at Christmas in front of the whole family.  Then was the first
act, a guy called Dan Antopolski who was hilarious – particularly his
professor-bit about how he had googled and created a chart about the
past, present and future probability of laughing a particular part of
your anatomy off. This made way for the big surprise of the evening,
the appearance on stage of a girl that I find even more gorgeous than
Lily Allen, the incredibly cute and hilarious Lucy Porter (post 106).
Going to see her on her own would have been worth the ticket price
alone but I honestly hadn’t known she was on the bill. What a lovely
surprise. She rather adorably took the audience through a ’bunty’
comic from the early 80s where the pin-ups were caricatures of whoever
was the tank top wearing Dr Who of the day and rather shockingly
(including big hair), Noel Edmonds, she had also found a TV Times from
a similar age with a letter complaining about Jim Davidson’s racism.
Granada TV’s inadvertently hilarious reply started ‘we are sorry if he
caused offence, Jim Davidson is one of our least racial comedians.
Last on, the headliner whose name had caused me to go for these
tickets in the first place – Richard Herring.
  I had seen him on TV a couple of times and I’d found him pretty funny
but I wasn’t 100% sure I’d appreciate his unkempt, unhealthy
forty-something trying to recapture his long-lost youth by eating more
junk food, drinking heavily and getting rejected continually by every
girl he approached. I don’t need a comedian to do that for me. I may
be younger and have been forced to give up junk food and booze but my
life now seems to have parallel themes, and they’re no laughing
matter. He started well by apologising that because this was a charity
gig his normal material was too filthy to be appropriate, he then
proceeded to tell one of the funniest (and clever) jokes I have ever
heard. He said that he had recently decided to live his life by the
following motto ‘my enemy’s enemy is my friend’ but how this doesn’t
quite workout with someone ‘who is their own worst enemy’ and was even
worse with an enemy who had decided to live their life by the motto
‘you keep your friends close but your enemies closer. My favourite
kind of jokes those. Finally, I went out to lunch with a few of my
friends on Saturday organised by the legend that is Tony, with Dom
Ellis and his lovely wife Pam. He’s trying to decide whether to take a
job in Cape Town, obviously it will be sad to lose them overseas if he
says yes but Cape Town is in my opinion the best city on Earth having
been there a couple of times in the last ten years. Also in attendance
were Nick and Sally Walmsley and their awesome 14 month old son Oscar,
who has changed my mind about kids, He’s great. Sal told this great
story about the ecstatic rapture that crossed his face when he first
had Ice Cream! Like his Dad the mini-Walm is a big fan of food. Tony
(the git) went on to win ‘several hundreds’ of pounds by backing the
winner of the US masters golf. He always does something like that, Kate better at least get a decent candlelit dinner out of it!
 

2 comments:

Simon said...

Didn't Lucy Porter do pretty much the EXACT same thing when we saw her at the Fringe gig?

Dom P said...

That's EXACTLY right.

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