31 Jan 2010

Post 183: Trying not to be Miserable despite Les Miserables

A couple of things have made me laugh this week, the first was listening to an audio CD of a show I went to see last year of not universally liked Comedian Russell Brand's Dome show 'Scandalous' (post 121 in Apr 09). If my mother and the army of middle aged, middle class, far right, daily mail reading illuminati are to be believed he is 'terrible','awful','appalling', 'the spawn of Satan etc. Brand being Brand probably takes this as a compliment. In my opinion this sort of irreverence needs to be applauded. When it was recorded it was hot off the back of the 'Manuelgate' scandal. Sure the original prank call might have been questionably funny but the subsequent daily mail orchestrated national outcry, the tarring and feathering of Brand and Ross which led to their sacking from BBC Radio2 was far from a proportional response. It provided Brand with ample material for 'scandalous' and the sort of publicity money can't buy, and gave Brand the opportunity to say in his show 'thankyou for coming to see me in a medium in which I am allowed to flourish' and 'the funny thing about the uproar, is that I do worse fings everyday'. I do take a bit of issue with his overdone mockney but it does remind me of a little story. Before my stroke I was chatting to a good friend of mine and observing that her accent (which when I'd first met her had been good old fashioned sarf Laandan) but since leaving university it was rather more clipped and plummy, without missing a beat she shot right back 'interesting you should say that, because you've gone the other way'. I've always had the piss taken out of me for being a bit of a posh boy but yesterday I was reminded of just how irritating posh voices can sound. Every Friday as part of my physio I go and have chips and grilled fish with Ian (and whoever else is around) in the local pub (where I always go) The Bear, now before anyone says that doesn't sound like therapy, I can tell you it certainly is, because I don't take my wheelchair! With Ian and the help of a crutch we walk out of the house to the car (20ish yards), we then drive to the pub and park in the rear carpark, we then walk the 100 odd yards to the table, I sit in a normal chair, this is therapy for me, not to mention exhausting and Ian and I take it in turns to pay – it is now one of the things to look forward to in life. Not much, eh? And it was almost spoilt yesterday. I have almost learnt to put up with crying babies and loud, disruptive,obnoxious small children because I'm at that stage in life where a lot of my friends have them but yesterday bore witness to a much worse foe that seems to be part and parcel of living in this part of the world; the uber-posh 40-something lady who lunches, they're still not as bad as the footballers and their entourages who behave and sound like chavs with money, swearing is not used for comic effect, it is used to make them sound more aggressive. I hate this. Anyway they're a target for another day – not that what other people think makes any difference to them, Anyway the object of my ire was this woman, who I wished I could just ignore, clearly some city tw*t corporate financiers wife, frightfully pleased with herself and how she's done, had a couple of children in late single figures at boarding school or (as on Friday) was trying to decide on which independent school to send 'little Ellie' too. And rather too loudly (I thought) was spouting forth about how 'uniforms create the right impression'. It's one of those things that deep down you tacitly agree on but while trying to eat my lunch I felt like shouting 'shut up you vapid whore', a phrase added to my Rolodex of insults after I listened to the Podcast of comic genius and mad professor-a-like Daniel Kitson , like him, I feel that words are now my tools and being widely read (well, listened) is important for inspirational purposes (and occasional attributed Plagiarism) and because I can no longer achieve my dreams I can pretty much say what the hell I like! Which sort-of brings me back to Russell Brand, whom I admire for his relentless pursuit of the better things in life, apart from his liaison with Heroin Addiction his pursuit of happiness through love (sex in his case) and laughter (and often laughter at his own expense) is to be applauded. There are few people who can claim to have met Britney Spears with an actual Elephant in the room, a story so funny, it always makes me laugh so I'll reproduce it. Brand before making his ill judged 'vote for Barack Obama because George W Bush is a retarded cowboy' quip at the VMA awards, . A ceremony that he hosted despite being relatively unknown in America. By his own admission his 'personality doesn't work without fame' and his hair 'just looks like mental illness', his so-called testosterousers just look like he's wearing leggings,he certainly can't call his dick the ''fame wand' that turns sluts into celebrities'. Anyway because of his lack of fame in America the MTV executives that had booked this unknown 'edgy' British comedian decided to try and associate him with some US celebrities, one of whom was Britney Spears. Before the appearance of the real Elephant, Brand had said to the MTV suit, 'What are we gonna talk about?' 'won't the fact that she's gone mental and shaved 'er 'ead be a bit of an Elephant in the room, then Brand says 'to the MTV execs eternal credit he said 'what if there were an Elephant in the room?' The thought of this makes me cry with laughter. I was almost crying for a different reason last night when I was taken out to see 80s supermusical Les Miserables by my great college mate Richard (the reverend) Lloyd and his lovely wife Vicki
who I hadn't seen since their amazing wedding back in October 2009 (post 162). Richard is a connoisseur of all things 80s so even though I had suggested Cirque du Soleil I was authoritatively overruled, well he is Senior Chaplain and a schoolmaster of a school down the road. I keep my heretical views to myself when I see Richard and he very gently gets god into the conversation but not at all in a Stephen Baldwin-esque way telling Vicki and I that Les Miserables was very much a modern parable explaining how the modern church allows forgiveness and change (parsonified by Valjeans journey whilst the old inflexible church is parsonified by Javert (the policeman). I resisted my puerile urge to say 'you're a priest, it's your job to find a parable in everything'.
It has been 20 years since I last saw Les Miserables at it's old London home the huge Palace Theatre and now it is in a smaller more sustainable home, the queens theatre on Shaftesbury avenue
it has lost none of it's allure and power. It is a masterpiece and I'm a little ashamed to say, I know every word to every song, which is a legacy from going on a skiing holiday 18 years ago where we had to drive for an hour everyday to the only place with snow, the only tape in the car was Les Miserables, that's how to learn by rote kids!
Even though yesterday evenings modern parable was extremely enjoyable despite any religious connotations seeing Richard and Vicki looking so happy together was great, when Richard was getting the car after the performance I asked Vicki how she was finding married life and her answer was great; 'well you know Richard and I hadn't known each other that long , I'm so glad we got married quickly rather than leaving it for ages' - I thought that this was a resounding thumbs up.
Yet more married friends of mine took me out for lunch yesterday, Becky and Harry Morrison took advantage of the fact their 14 month old twin girls were at Becky's parents for the weekend to treat me to lunch at the Bear- I hadn't seen them for a little while but since they moved in down the road from where I used to live in Brixton they always entertain me with the latest local lowdown from the inner city.
Yesterdays choice morsel was they were telling me about the farmers market in Brixton. 'Where the hell are the farms?' I said. It sounds as Oxymoronic as the 'Lambeth country show' an event that had to be seen to be believed. I of course used to go every year to take in the ridiculousness of seeing falconry tents alongside south london towerblocks juxtaposed with 18th century battle re-enactments and rastas smoking suspicious smelling roll-ups, aside from these uneasy bedfellows they also sold the kind of flat scrumpy in old plastic milk containers that was so potent it made you hallucinate, on a nice summers day this heady cocktail almost made the plentiful jerk goat and the inevitable loud reggae music bearable!
Anyway, today being Sunday I haven't got much planned bar the arrival of a couple of old mates I haven't seen for a while, Simon Winstanley and Jonnie Random (aka Jonathan Edwards) Simon, being a Brixton dweller will know exactly what I'm talking about.

28 Jan 2010

Post 182: The meaning of my life (I think)

Truth be told this has been a fairly sh*tty week, in the words of a friend of mine 'mmmm. sorry to say but that sounds like business as usual to me, and i don't believe there's anything i could say to cheer you up :(:(:(:(:(:(:(:(' , which through the medium of the internet is sadly true. That said one of the things that has wound me up this week is people that don't reply to my emails, maybe it is a legacy from internet dating where even if you spend quite some time and effort, which is a killer for me, reading up on someone's profile, discarding all the ones that contain the words 'fun-loving'. Seriously has there ever been a more vacuous, tautologous, nonsense of a phrase? I'm sure this will offend a disproportionate number of female online daters which is a cross I'll just have to bear. You're fun loving, really. Seriously? Is there anyone in the world who hates fun? Usually these girls are relentlessly positive, happy and optimistic – all great qualities, but looking at the inevitable holiday snaps of people holding a glass of wine or for some reason, jumping a fence on a horse does make me a bit nauseous but being unbelievably cute mitigates this a bit, plus you would not believe the number of single mums, I admit I am probably a bit old fashioned but this is a high proportion of girls. Is it churlish of me to think this is irresponsible of both partners? Obviously, accidents can happen and some men are bastards!
Trying to write a straight e-mail which explains my situation and what I am looking for is then hard, because let's be honest, as soon as girls see the words 'disabled' or 'wheelchair' they ignore everything else and everyone hates being ignored. Being 100% honest (as I always am)=no replies, and to be clear being ignored out of hand was not something I was used to in my previous life. It's worse when you have to put so much into it. Sadly, this, and variants of this is the only way I can meet new people these days, when I have met people this way it has usually been down to them taking the leap of faith into coming round here, having a cup of tea and a chat because that is all I want because chatting to new people (particularly pretty ones) is my lifeblood these days, if something happens, it happens, this and making sure I stay in touch with my existing network of friends, this, with my existing reserves of energy, my limited abilities and my torturous physio regime is pretty much my life these days, I know there are people in the world in worse positions but I don't know how knowing they exist is supposed to make me feel any better, I have to be selfish about the fact that in over 4 years, I have never once felt ok. I wake up everyday and all I do is exist, I do the same thing day in and day out and always feel the same and hope against hope that one day I'll get the email from the girl of my dreams who after meeting me will want to spend time with me, be attracted to me for the extra effort I make but don't have to make, be attracted to my sense of humour and any intellect I have left. All I want is the uncomplicated things in life again. I can't be a sugar daddy but I can provide security, reliability and some financial security and independence. To have someone to laugh and joke with, to curl up with a glass of red wine and watch a non-challenging DVD with. Someone who I can love and care for in return for the love and care she gives me.
Once I find this person, I can give up all this time I spend looking. Before I was abandoned by my ex girlfriend who I thought would stick by me, I never thought this would be something I'd have to worry about and I'd be able to concentrate on other things, namely my physical and mental recovery and my writing which I need to do a lot more of if I'm ever going to make a life out of it. I hope this explains where I'm coming from.
Sorry if this has been hard going but I had to get it out. There's little point to life if all you do is exist.

25 Jan 2010

Post 181: A little light xenophobia never hurt anyone

I'm not in the habit of posting wholesale round robin emails for all sorts of reasons but mainly because they're not funny or interesting enough and are too rude/wrong to post, but this email offends every nationality and xenophobia's ok apparently, it's racism that's wrong and lazy – on the subject of bigotry, self confessed bigot and australian attache comedian brendon burns was on fire last night, he was first brought to my attention when a friend showed me this video and I thought it was pretty funny (don't watch this in an open plan office, my 2nd thought was 'he's one comedian never to heckle' and unbelievably when I saw him last night a lady heckled him and he destroyed her, hounding her out to riotous laughter and applause, he even asked the audience if anyone had filmed it. Anyway , the main reason I'm actually writing this is to post this email and thank the kind people who took me to the comedy last night, Tanya and her charming other half Ian. Regular long term sufferers of this blog will remember Tanya as the mate who helped me out a lot when I left hospital, sadly owing to some sort of Saffa personality clash with my then Saffa carers we lost touch, it was also a difficult time for me emotionally, well it still is. Anyway, here's the email, enjoy:
' The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats And have raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, Though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 When tea supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to a "Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was during the great fire of 1666.

The Scots raised their threat level from "Pissed Off" to "Let's get the Bastards" They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line in the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror Alert level from "Run" to "Hide". The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively paralysing the country's military capability. It's not only the French who are on a Heightened level of alert.

has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels Remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans also increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher Levels: "Invade a Neighbour" and "Lose".

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual, and the only Threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels .

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy Can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Americans meanwhile and as usual are carrying out pre-emptive strikes, on All of their allies, just in case.

And in the southern hemisphere...

New Zealand
has also raised its security levels - from "baaa" to "BAAAA!". Due to continuing defence cutbacks (the air force being a squadron of spotty Teenagers flying paper aeroplanes and the navy some toy boats in the Prime Minister's bath), New Zealand only has one more level of escalation, which Is "Sh*t, I hope Australia will come and rescue us".

meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be right, mate". Three more escalation levels remain: "Crikey!', "I Think we'll need to cancel the Barbie this weekend" and "The Barbie is Cancelled". So far no situation has ever warranted use of the final Escalation level.
I would guess there are Aussie fingerprints on this email so while I'm poiting the finger at Australia and reproducing emails I just received this which made me chuckle:


There was no Nativity Scene in Canberra last year! The Constitutional Court ruled that there could not be a Nativity Scene in Nation's Capital
last Christmas season.

This wasn't for any religious reason.

They simply have not been able to find Three Wise Men in the Nation's Capital.

A search for a Virgin continues.

There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.

24 Jan 2010

Post 180: an OK weekend (!)

The weirdness quotient in my life (already above the national average) increased last night because I went to see Varekai (Cirque du Soleil) at the Albert Hall and I will say this for starters: As someone who is focused on what the Human body can't do, I sit here today amazed at what the Human body can do. These people are amazing, they may be circus freaks but I saw feats of strength, coordination and balance last night which makes my struggle to achieve strength, coordination and balance seem laughable. I went last year to see Quidam (Post 95) and I stick by almost all of what I wrote. The major difference was that this time we had much better seats, after I'd made a fuss on the phone that it was only worthwhile me going if I could get space on the slightly nearer wheelchair platform adjacent to the stage. Consequently we were near enough to feel right on top of the action and unlike last year I could make out what was going on. The other big difference was who took me. Last year Dom'Iceman' Icely,one of my oldest and dearest friend. Now Dom is so laidback, he's practically horizontal and as I recall admired most of the death defying stuff with a stiff upper lip, this time my compatriots were local friend Sacha and my neighbour Tracey, who had left their stiff upper lips at the door replacing them with sharp in-takes of breath for each death defying stunt. Funnily enough this actually helped magnify the impressiveness of what was happening on stage! I can imagine they may have been asked to leave a cinema! Girls eh?
Anyway I have been taken out for a lush roast today by great mates the Daweses and I have just got an email from someone I'd really hoped I'd hear from, so as Sundays go, this isn't too bad. Despite my exhaustion I'm going to try and wrap up the weekend listening to some stand -up comedy at the Lyric Theatre in Hammersmith with Richard Herring, Robin Ince, Brendon Burns and inbetweeners giant sadistic Teacher Greg Davies. A mixed bag of styles there, from the pseudo-intellectual Ince to the aggressive, shouty, sweary typically Australian force of nature that is Burns. I think I'll laugh, a lot, expect to read about it here next week. Have a better week than me.

23 Jan 2010

Post 179: Gavin & Psychology

I have just polished off one of the main reasons I look forward to the weekend, an awesome Omelette cooked for me by one of my housemates (and main carer) Mariusz, the man is a trooper and since him and his girlfriend Ilona have taken over the running of the house and the looking after of me, life has improved, it's still sh*t because sadly that's how I feel but it's less sh*t.
On the subject of Omelettes, I invested in the boxset of Gavin & Stacey this week because DVD watching has to feature highly in the life of the chronically fatigued housebound stroke survivor. I have to report that it is excellent so far (after 1 and bit DVDs) and can see why it has won so many accolades. Co-writer and star James Cordon is clearly a genius and sports his extra flab with pride, he must be an inspiration for fat people the length and breadth of the land! The girl who plays Stacey (Joanna Page) is adorable, especially for her sweetness and naivety as well as for her beauty. Sweetness; an undefinable quality should always come first in any judgement of a girls attractiveness. It just does. It can be told almost instantly, preferably from meeting someone face to face but it can be approximated from a photo or the way someone writes, I'm no psychologist but I hope this makes a little sense. This gist follows from a book I listened to after a recommendation from my sister (still obviously remembering some of her university psychology) of a book called Blink about how the human brain makes the majority of it's decisions about a person or thing milliseconds after first encountering it, basically, the science behind the first impression, and how first impressions are often right, I used to work for a man who we called 'Psycho' both because of his name and personality who always used to say 'my intuition tells me' and we used to (carefully) take the piss out of him largely because it was our job to prove (with numbers) which way decisions should go. On several occasions Psycho used to ignore what we said and go with his 'intuition'. I'd like to say hard numbers were always right but they're not, sometimes you have to judge a book by its cover. Christ, I once bought an Iron Maiden album because I liked the artwork, but some things are beyond help! The intuition and the first impression are powerful things though, and me knowing this is one of the reasons my self confidence since my stroke is so cripplingly low, because the physical impression I must make these days is RUBBISH, but I hope there's more to me. As part of one of the first assignments on this writing course I had to write a few hundred words on why I wanted to be a writer and what I hoped to get out of it, I'm sorry if this is boring but I reproduce it here because typing is such bloody hard work.

My aim is to become some sort of writer to give me something to do, give me some purpose and validation in life and hopefully some sort of income.
I never felt I'd ever be scrabbling around like this looking for something to do but that all changed on December 25th 2005 when I had an almost fatal stroke after a weakness I'd been born with and didn't know about exploded in my brain stem. I was in a coma for three weeks and was lucky to live, I spent two and a half years in various London hospitals (which was like being in hell) and I am now living semi independently in a house of my own in south West London ( I have housemates that double as carers).
I do appreciate how lucky I am to still be alive and to have this opportunity to live a fairly comfortable existence but let's face facts, I am single, lonely, clinically depressed 32 year old man. I used to have (what I considered) an interesting, full, independent, happy life. Now it is in tatters! I can't walk independently, I have limited control and feeling in my left side, my eyesight is ruined forever ( my vision is weird and ethereal with intermittent double vision, I can only read text in big fonts (30+)), I have to type with one finger, I can't travel independently, my voice is strained and robotic, I can't control my facial muscles so I am convinced I always look strange and the final slap in the face is that I have chronic fatigue which means I have to deal with all these disabilities through the permanent fog of fatigue, no matter what, I always feel unwell/exhausted.
Since the latter days of my time in hospital (early 2008) I have written a blog as a sort of cathartic outlet as a place to put my thoughts and diarise some of my experiences. It is the writing on this that has led some of my friends and family to encourage me to write and I hoped that this writing course would help me to crystallise and focus any underlying abilities I have. The aim is to become some sort of writer in the long term in whatever form that takes. I need some sort of long term purpose back in my life, my short term one seems to be doing as much physical therapy and walking therapy as my body will tolerate (it feels like torture), so becoming a proper writer would represent a big step forward in achieving a half-decent life again.

17 Jan 2010

Post 178:Little help?

I am clearly a fairly uncomplicated bloke and all I need to make my pathetic life feel worthwhile is the company of friends or one day finding a significant other. Twice in the last week it is just having company that has made life OK – Most recently (last night) I was taken out for dinner on Saturday night by some of my favourite people in the world, Nick and Sally Walmsley and my best mate Tony, I really see how people like this have to make so much effort these days and for that I am so grateful. I don't just live down the road, people have to come and pick me up, I can't just meet people there, they have to check if the place has access – nothing comes easily, and even at the dinner table joining in conversation isn't the easiest, despite all these difficulties it feels nice today having spent last night spending time with them and I want them to know this, I want everyone to know this and hopefully it will make people more likely to make this sort of effort. I can no longer just nip out and see people on my terms anymore so I rely on people to actively want to make the schlep down here to come and see me. The other time was even simpler, On Friday night all I did was have a glass of red wine and watch a DVD at my house with my neighbour, her boyfriend (also my physio) and my brother. This isn't rocket science! But getting any fullfillment/meaning from my life requires other people and I may suggest away reasons to come and keep me company ad infinitum but I need people to make the suggestion/make the move because I feel like a tw*t banging my head against a brick wall if I'm the one who's always doing the asking, I'm throwing myself on people's mercies here and feel pretty undignified doing it but I feel I need to say this.

16 Jan 2010

Post 177: The 'big Yin and a distinctly Glaswegian feel to proceedings

More snow this week has once again pathetically crippled the country, the way to invade this country is not with guns and bombs, it's with snow machines, we'll be fighting back by building snowmen, taboganing down anything with a slope and running out of grit, the overwhelming word that seems to have been used by the kind people who e-mail me to stop me going insane is 'BORING'! For once in my life I have been one step ahead of people, I knew we would all be bored with the snow within days, I just anticipated it the minute the bloody stuff started to settle. People are not used to tolerating anything that prevents them doing what they want to do,take it from a man who can't nip for a 'quick' piss anymore, who is scared of getting into a normal armchair because of all the rigmarole in getting out of it. At least I can't stand the thought of being in bed all day, I would feel like I'm missing out on things, opportunities to stay in touch with friends and family, meeting new people and trying to further what's left of this life (not the TV series so beloved of 'meedja dahlings, hacks/hackettes, faghags and Hoxton haircuts).
I talked a long time ago about doing a writing course, I have now started it and have set aside all day Thursday every week by giving up one of my punishing physio sessions which I hate. I think yesterdays morning session explains my hate of them. We all hate being crap at stuff, well in my case I'm crap at standing up, feeling awake and generally being normal. So in yesterdays session my torturer (my physio Ian) had me doing 3 reps of 10 minutes each on a stepper (I keep myself from falling over by holding on to a bar above my lounge doorway. Objectively speaking this is not a lot of exercise but for me it feels like 3 back to back marathons. I bitched, hollered and bellowed my way through this ( Ian is a saint for putting up with me) and at the end I almost cried. I used to put myself through this sort of punishment because I wanted to, now, I have to and the only thing I ever feel I get out of it is more and more fatigue. I may have lost 15kg in the last year but that has been as much about observing a boring diet as doing more exercise. I still try and go out once/twice a week to take in a show and this week (last Sunday) it was 'the big Yin' Billy Connolly. I must confess I was a bit apprehensive about going to see him, firstly because of the bloody snow but more importantly I didn't think it would hit my funnybone. I have seen him on TV or DVD numerous times and I have never found him pant-wettingly funny, but you don't get voted the worlds best stand up comedian for nothing. Luckily my pant-wettingly funny friend Sacha (who was driving) took a call that the roads were worth the risk and this was likely to be the last time in our lives we'd probably get to see him. Well he is 70 and he doesn't get down to London that often plus my friend Derek (the Glaswegian Male nurse from the RHN) had said he was a must-see. I'll give him this, Billy was great – To most people, the Hammersmith Apollo is a big venue, to Billy,it must have felt no bigger than his front room, this is a man that has performed in some of the biggest Arenas in the world including not performing opera at the Sydney Opera House. He holds the room like a master, with his long white hair he looks like Gandalf in stupid trousers and glasses ready to cast a spell. Well, he doesn't do that , instead he is a formidable story teller, you just get the feeling he's an overflowing vessel full of stories that have made him piss himself, and hes itching to tell everyone, I know the feeling precisely, where you've got a piece of information or a way of conveying that piece of information that is just so funny that it has to be got out. There are a group of people that often have a go at people for laughing at their own jokes, as far as I'm concerned these people can F off! Laughter IS infectious, often it just takes someone laughing to start me off, and people with comedy laughs are funny in themselves. How funny is it when someone snorts at the end of their laugh? You know who you are. Back to Billy, it is clearly the idiosyncracies of some human behaviour that makes him laugh for example the bizarre behaviour of drunk people who've been chucked out of the pub and practice being sober quite publicly to get back in (often in full view of the bastad who's chucked them out) and what makes him laugh a lot on stage is that he has clearly just thought of things to say off the top of his head that are hilarious and amuse him like his idea that he might be just the man to represent the majority of people that now abstain from voting in elections starting with overturning the smoking ban in pubs, mostly because of the hypocrisy that it's ok to smoke still in the house of commons bar 'those bastads'. To be honest, I wouldn't get too upset as the clientele of hacks and Mps make for some of the worst people in the world, so what if they can smoke. They'll die quicker! Apparently Connolly isn't even a cigarette smoker. Erm, what a freedom fighter, the Scots are a feisty bunch!. Most of the time if it's on-topic, he'll share the things he has just thought of – otherwise he'll just chortle away, which is funny in itself, something I can empathise with, flying off on tangents or shaggy goose chases (sorry). So, we were glad we took a slight gamble on the snow, even when it was falling in flakes as big as old fifty pence pieces. Sacha has also furnished me with the definitive answer to the question 'do you love me' when a partner asks you 'of course I love ya, I f*ck ya don't I?' in a thick Essex accent. Too funny. Believe it or not, some of this nonsense can be used in my first assignment! The other thing that did slightly put my nose out of joint was that I was supposed to be seeing Glaswegian comedian Kevin Bridges last night at Jongleurs in Battersea. That was until a phonecall from them yesterday afternoon telling me 'that actually we've got no disabled access' despite me specifically asking in my original call. Idiots. In fairness to them, oh wait there is no 'in fairness' bit. I am furious. Kevin Bridges came to my attention on Michael MacIntyres' comedy roadshow, he was brilliant – judge for yourself
And just for the hell of it I'll tag on another walking video!



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