Freedumb

I never have to say those words again! AHAHAHAHAH! Never! Never ever again! HAHAHAHAHAH! Never do I have to repeat the same jokes and words again and again blurting them out like a dead behind the eyes automaton, trapped in a verbal groundhog day! Never do I have to go hide in my tiny dressing room/cupboard peeking behind the curtain at people sitting on the front row wondering if they’ll be nice again! AHAHAHAHA! Never will I have to deal with being unable to see out of the giant polar bear outfit stumbling around an inflatable igloo hoping I don’t accidentally knee a kid in the face again (yes, I did it once. That along with the children yesterday that ate the polystyrene snow despite me and Tim telling them not to mean there will surely be a court case on our hands very soon). Never do I have worry everyday that the news might mean I have to rewrite bits to do with a bear/riots/MPs/anything else. Never ever do I have to be concerned that incompetent flyerers are selling my show as ‘brand new Irish comedian’. Never ever do I have to go through the whole ordeal of this ridiculous month all over again! Ever! Well, until next year. Maybe. And until I do my solo show in Shoreditch in two weeks time. And the Adventurer’s Club over Christmas. Sigh. But until then….never ever again! I am a free man! I am not a number etc etc.

 

I’m bloody pleased it’s all over with again. Not that I’ve had a bad time. Far from it infact, but by Jove and who ever else it may be by, I’m a tired man. Last night, being the last night, I aimed to have a late one, drinking till the birds sang, and still ended up yawning by 1am and going home like Johnny Loser of Losertown. And you know what? By having a tame one, more good stuff has happened than ever before. Yes it could be just because I’ve (not my words or opinion. Or in fact anyone’s words or opinion. Merely a suggestion/lie) got a better show/s than usual. It could also be that I’ve now been going for 8 years as a comedian and so things are finally clicking. Or, and more likely, it could be because because I wasn’t drunk and/or hungover every single day and actually worked my arse off instead of working on drinking it off. I don’t want to put two and two together and conclude that the fun has drained from my existence but it seems to make sense. Even worse, and yes this is even worse, I’ve really enjoyed it. I’ve enjoyed not waking up every day with booze blues, whisky taste in my mouth, wondering where I am, before trudging off and hoping the nurofen will get me through my show and that I won’t sick on the front row (though that’s an impossibility as I’ve only ever been sick from booze 6 times in my life. 4 from downing 8 pints in a row, one from a milky coffee post drinking and one due to cigar smoking. FACT. I have a stomach of steel. And a body that hates me). Horrible isn’t it? It’s almost like I’ve been grown up about it all. I promise it’ll stop soon. Promise. Maybe.

 

What next? Well as the comedian’s new year will pass this evening – at least that’s how I like to think of it – I aim to spend the next day at Edinburgh zoo, and then go home and be in a coma till at least Saturday, at which point I’ll check my answer phone messages and then return to coma until Bestival where I will actually ruin myself to make up for my sensible month. And post that? We’ll see. Though ‘Tiernan Douieb Schmiernan Schmouieb’ won’t write itself…..

 

FREE! FREE I TELLS YA! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

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Fringe 2011: Day The Final

So today is it. One of each show left before I can return to the sanity of not repeating the same words every single day in the same rooms and regain some level of variation in my life. Once again, as per every year, its not been what’s expected. If anything, its been brilliant all round, with all three shows doing very well, but in the case of one of them, that really wasn’t expected at all. The Adventurer’s Club show I do with Tim Fitzhigham shouldn’t have happened let alone done as well as it has. Planned many months before Edinburgh with a structure created in a Starbucks at 10am with myself and Tim very hungover and trying to ignore the constant fire alarm going off, it was then left untouched due to various injuries Tim gained for his solo show. Weeks and weeks went past and I instead focussed on my solo show and Tim focussed on being spazzed out on painkillers, both completely neglecting our kid’s show writing duties. Then, finally, a week before Edinburgh, we gained a polar bear outfit, scribbled a script over three hours in a pub getting more and more drunk. We rehearsed twice in Tim’s little London abode, both times getting distracted by one thing or another (the other being the pub or one of Tim’s many zany tales) and I went home, finished up the script and emailed it over. Further attempts at rehearsal were scuppered by Tim’s broken finger getting a bone eating infection and a doctor’s appointment that could have meant he wasn’t able to make Edinburgh at all. Eventually we had our first rehearsal as our first show at the festival.

Three shows kicked off with script half learnt and props missing, before a family bereavement meant it was cancelled for four days and it seemed like it would never really get going. Yet three glowing reviews later ( a 5 star in the Scotsman!), quite serious amounts of telly interest and a constant wonderful cameo from Craig Campbell here we are, perfuming to very big audiences. It seems that the show I was least prepared for may end up being my Edinburgh golden trophy. Odd huh? I find it truly baffling. Brilliant, but baffling. What does this say about Edinburgh prep? It reminds me a lot of writing an essay at university the night before whilst drunk, only to get a 1st, whereas the essay I spent two weeks researching and writing only gained me a low 2:1. I am starting to wonder if I should just rock up next year with a few post it notes and wing the whole thing. Being unprepared is the best form of preparation. That’s not a saying but I might try and make it one. Pretend a superhero has said it or something.

Hopefully that will spread round the comedy ranks and everyone will start to believe it. All the comics would just stop bothering to prepare for this month of stupid and we’ll all become self righteous improv groups. Then when its trickled into theatre and art as well, I’ll start preparing again and win everything. Mwhahahahahahahaha. Plan of the century. Or y’know, I might have a year off next year. Or do a play. Or just be an adventurer with Tim. We’ll see what happens. Three more shows to kick the face off today and after that the comedy new year will begin again and we’ll see what it brings. Onwards the end!

Fringe 2011: The Penultimate Day

Ok so the title is a sort of lie. I’m here till Wednesday morning, and the fringe officially continues until Monday, but for me, today is my penultimate day of shows. So that’s why. And I like the word ‘penultimate’. Its make me think of super-powered stationary. Despite me spending most of my blogs this month moaning about illness and tiredness – yes I am sorry and I promise blogging and tweeting shall resume its usual exciting (sic) standards once the fringe is over and my brain is back to normal – but once again I am crumbling a tad. Yesterday was the day of brain fail. Again its something that happens every year, the point where having no days off, late nights and general trudging up hills means that your body just gives up a bit. My show yesterday started with me spilling a man’s coffee that he had precariously balanced on the stage between the legs of the microphone stand. My guilt at doing such a thing was superseded by the fact that it was a twattish place to put a coffee and I spent the next ten minutes trying to maintain my cheery persona while wanting to shout at him for his idiocy. It wasn’t easy. As a consequence I struggled through my show constantly wanting to hide in my tiny cupboard backstage and just have a sleep.

This was followed by an Adventurer’s Club show that was more mayhem than usual due to Craig Campbell being away at Leeds festival and us getting Tony Law as a replacement. Tony hadn’t got the script till he arrived which was stressful enough, adding to the fact that Tim had arrived 4 minutes befiore showtime due to an extra show he’d had to do earlier. On top of all this Tony’s awesome kids (who were very cute and funny) were in and took apart most of our props before we needed to use them, tipping fake snow all over the floor. It was hilarious, and Tony was ace, but my capacity for improvising around it had died somewhat due to earlier in the day and I carried this through to Comedy Club 4 Kids where I mumbled at people before Adam Buxton wonderfully closed the show.

I crawled into bed by 11pm last night and passed out immediately. This is the most unusual behaviour for a man like me. I am king of the night owls. I am the Dark Night. If I was a horse I’d be a nightmare. Yet, here I was, in bed earlier than I’ve been in years. Damn you the fringe! Six shows left. That’s all I have to do to survive….

I’ll stop moaning now. Promise. It’s been a bloody good fringe so far. Let’s hope no one else leaves their coffee on the stage.

Fringe 2011: Day 25 (and 24)

There was no blog yesterday. I know this. Should any of you be unsure about this, I can be certain that no blog happened and it wasn’t just that I had typed it in transparent font or an ancient archaic text that only descends of the first blood line of the Aztecs could read. No. Far more complex than that, I just couldn’t be bothered to write one. Shock and indeed horror. I know. Thing is, we are now in the last few days of the fringe when a deadly cocktail of things start to happen. Firstly your body understands its nearly time for sleep and vegetables and starts just giving up a bit. I woke up this morning coughing so hard I thought I might puncture a lung, with one obscenely sticky eye and a nose that’s more blocked than the M25 on a Friday night at 6pm. I fully expect in the next few days to dislocate something, get measles and have my appendix implode as part of Operation: Shutdown Douieb. This series of bodily occasions isn’t helped at all by the second cocktail ingredient: free booze parties. There are lots this week, the last two nights being prime examples of a lack of restraint in the also gulping stakes. I will one day learn that when booze is free, although it seems like it, there isn’t a challenge to drink it all before anyone else does. I have been better this year, knowing full well that I am not a prime competitor or bookies favourite in such events this annum what with illness and my stupid three shows a day, but there has still been some attempt.

Consequently, yesterday was sans blog. And there ends a paragraph and a bit telling you why I haven’t blogged. Never has anything felt more pointless. Except for a ball. HAHAHAHAHHA. So tired.

Right now down to the nitty gritty. Not that its particularly nitty, nor gritty, but here’s some thoughts from the last 48 hours of Douiebdome:

- I am not as good at stopping people falling upstairs as I thought.

- It is my fault that booze has been banned from the stage at Karaoke Circus. I feel quite bad about this.

- I had the joy of being on at Political Animal on Wednesday with John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman hosting. Watching the two of them bounce of each other with top repartee was just incredible. I had forgotten just what a great double act they were and trust me, it was a scary act to follow on stage.

- The world is now officially even smaller than it was two days ago.

- It helps if you know where the queue to a show is to get into it, rather than wait on the opposite side until its all full and you have to go away. Idiot.

- After having attended the same party for many years I finally have an apt description for the horrible mojitos they serve at the So You Think You’re Funny Party every year: ‘It’s as though an alcoholic man has downed some lime cordial and sicked it up back into a cup.’

- I do not like having wine spilt on my face, despite I assuming I might.

- Luke Benson is increasingly becoming known as a festival meeting point.

- There are a lot of people with the surname Dawson.

- Everyone loves my racist dressing room. FACT.

- Someone has complained on edfringe.com that Adventurer’s Club is unplanned. Yes. Yes it is. I can’t work out why this is a problem.

- Also despite only having written Adventurer’s Club in 3 hours in the pub a week before the fringe and having our first rehearsal as the first show, The Scotsman have said this:

SCOTSMAN – ADVENTURER’S CLUB REVIEW

 

I’m sure there’s more but I’m caught in a flurry of excitement because Adam Buxton is doing Comedy Club 4 Kids today and he’s just texted me. I am aiming to persuade him to be my best friend by the end of today and then we can hang out and eat ice cream. EXCITING!

 

 

Fringe 2011: Day 23

I went to see The National at the Edinburgh Corn Exchange last night. Yes, this is one of those blogs where I’ll try and talk about music and ultimately fail to say anything of note bar some general gushing. I am not a proper National fan. I am a mere glory hunter who’s enjoyment of the band has only been a year long and based entirely on the albums ‘The Boxer’ and ‘High Violet’. With other bands, people like me are the sort of people I get annoyed with. The ones that only know ‘the anthems’ and only sing along to a few of the words of each song. The ones that tell everyone they love that band but when song titles are mentioned they haven’t got a clue which ones they mean and won’t know each track by only its opening notes. For The National, that man is me.

 

The Corn Exchange is a brilliant venue for a number of reasons. Firstly its about 3 and a half miles out of town which meant heading there felt a bit like me and L got to escape the fringe for a night. Sometimes you forget just how big Edinburgh is when you’re trapped in the small square with its corners being the Meadows, Pleasance Courtyard, Princes Street and the castle. It can all get a tad claustrophobic and escaping that to go and see something that while performance, is of an entirely different sort to any crap at the Fringe. I’ve missed such events at the fringe last few years. Previously I’ve seen Kanye West, The Shins, Radiohead and Beck at fringes gone by and its always been a welcome escape, so I was so pleased the Edge music festival has brought it back. The second reason the Corn Exchange is brilliant is because due to its not too big size, there isn’t anywhere you can stand where you are that far away from the stage which makes for a lovely intimate atmosphere.

So standing in this intimate atmosphere I could quite clearly hear people around me requesting songs from albums I’d never heard of and relishing at tracks I didn’t know existed, but to be honest, it didn’t matter one bit. For The National live are pretty amazing. Matt Berninger is a wonderful mix of morose and cheery depending on the moment, flitting between seemingly being unable to look at the crowd face on when not singing, wandering off to the back of the stage until he’s required again, to leaping in front of the mic eager to make fun quips. He displayed a mix of strange movements including holding the mic high above his head before dropping it down to mouth level to warble into it and climbing up on to the speaker unit to stick his head into the air vent and sing from there. Quite simply nuts, but completely engaging. The whole band were brilliant, with a flawless wash of noise filling the room for ‘Conversation 16′, and ‘Terrible Love’.

 

But more than anything the way in which they finished the gig was one of my favourite things I’ve ever seen at a live show. After playing ‘Terrible Love’ as their encore, a seemingly great track to close on if any, we expected them to walk off stage. Instead they announced that they were going to sing a song without microphones so everyone needed to be quiet. A hush filled the room and with the most beautiful harmony the band stood in a line and started to sing ‘Vanderlylle Cry Baby’. Slowly slowly the whole crowd (including me as I know that one) very softly sang along, until the room was in unison. The hairs on the back of my neck went up as Matt Berninger climbed into the crowd and started singing with the audience until the whole song was brought to a close, the band left the stage and crowds slowly left the building a bit dazed as to what had just happened, quietened by the loveliness of it. Just amazing. I now fully seek to rectify the knowledge I don’t know and become a proper National fan that the others can be proud of asap.

Fringe 2011: Day 21

Normally by this point in the festival I’m 100% completely secure with everything. I know my shows inside out, reviews have been and gone and the end is in sight in a way that makes me feel more comfortable with the world. Yet today I am bricking it. Is it because important people might be coming to see my show? No. Is it because I’ve done something I should be worried about like most years in Edinburgh? No, not this year. Is it because I’ve got bored and tried to see how quickly our kitchen will burn if I cover it in petrol and throw a match at it? No. Not yet. I’m saving that for the last day. I shall keep you in suspense no longer dearest blogees and blogettes as I’m sure some of you are literally hanging onto the edges of your seats right now, for fear you will plummet into the well carpeted or shiny floor boarded floor – I don’t know how your houses work – below. Or y’know, you probably don’t care. Either way, the reason I’m in a state of fear today is because tonight I am doing my first ever Karaoke Circus.

Whats that? I’ve got to do stand-up in front of 6000 people? Fine. That’s easy. You say I have to act in front of a full 2000 seater theatre audience? Yep, no probs. Hang on, I’ve got to sing in front of two people? Terrified. It’s very odd, but I know my performance limitations and while I could happily crack a mediocre gag to the world, if I have to wail out more than a single note to a public audience I need an automatic pant change for shitting myself will be immediate. I never used to have this problem, especially at the age of 6 or 7 when I would happily announce to the family that I would be ‘Michael Jackson dancing’ for them and so they need to pay attention, before shuffling into the living room in my pyjamas screaming the words to ‘Bad’ while doing less of a dance and more of a seizure for them all to see. In later years even I’ve had the misfortune of being involved in a few musicals where I felt proud to be warbling my characters songs, no matter how rarely I hit the correct notes.

But now, it feels like its a tad out of my league. Even more so because tonight I am singing a Tom Waits song and fully intend to do my best Tom Waits impression which is, er, not brilliant. My currently husky voice will help somewhat I hope, as will my repeated practising of his jerky movements and hand on hip stance. I’m also totally going to wear my shirt, tie and trilby, the aim being that even if I sound more like a man hacking up a dog into a grinder mill, then at least I might look the part. We’ll have to see. Chances are I’ll forget all the words, make one long continuous growl movement and run away remembering why I became a comedian and not a rock star.

 

Karaoke Circus is tonight, tomorrow and Weds at the Pleasance Dome, 1am. Do come along.

 

As an aside note

Fringe 2011: Day 20

This will be a quick blog as I’m just back from doing the Three Weeks podcast with Tim Fitzhigham. I had no idea what it was all about, and merely received a call to arms text at 10.45 this morning asking all comedians that were awake to join him in the studio. There was a good 10 minutes of mad banter before we had to end as due to Tim, the whole show overran by 20 minutes. I have grown to love this aspect of Tim. Everyday at Adventurer’s Club there is another mini-crisis as he wanders off just before we start the show to start a conversation with someone he hasn’t seen for 15 years, or decides that to do the ‘doors open’ announcement he has to stand atop of the most unsteady sandwich board in the Pleasance, an accident just looming over him like a petty Final Destination shot. I never have any clue how our show will pan out and where it will go, but to be honest, its immense fun, so I assume this morning will be similar. So before I race off to do my show, here are some quick things:

BERNARD

We have a small mouse in our flat. Correction: there is a fat mouse in our flat. Its really fat and yet somehow quite capable of squeezing itself under the gap in our toilet door so it can scare the crap out of me at 4am in the morning when I’m on the loo. I’m not scared of mice by any means, but if you’re bleary eyed and in the most vulnerable of positions seeing a grey blur race at your feet is never calming. Now having seen Bernard a few times I’m a bit more happy about his existence though more cautious when using the loo. I’ve taken to leaving him a few cornflakes by the fridge – under which is where he lives – and seeing if he eats them all and despite Nat doing the stereotypical thing of jumping on top of a stool on first sight of him, we’ve taken to seeing him as part of the flat. Although if he doesn’t start buying in loo roll and more cornflakes soon I will start to plan how to trap him and send him up Arthur’s Seat.

FESTMAG REVIEW

I got this review yesterday:

FESTMAG – TIERNAN DOUIEB VS THE WORLD

 

And that makes me very happy. Especially the term ‘ursine jester’ which I may have to use as a show title in future years.

SOUNDCLOUD

My cough has developed into a hack so bad I’ve pulled a muscle in my side. If there was ever an indicator for my body starting to fail itself, its this. Anyway, I talk about it here. Note: It contains some things I wrote about in yesterdays blog. Sorry:

SOUNDCLOUD – BRILLIANT COUGH

And the aforementioned Three Weeks podcast should be up this afternoon so keep your ears peeled for that. Proper blog tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

Fringe 2011: Day 19

My sore throat has transformed into a terrible cough. Like a caterpillar cocooning itself to become a butterfly, my fringe ailment has been brewing slowly, developing, changing, growing into something far worse. Like a butterfly. Anyone who might pretend butterflies are pretty has never seen that episode of Inspector Morse where they appear on people’s dead bodies all the time. Or had one fly into your face. Neither are good. So yeah, my cough is like a horrible necro dwelling insect. Ok, so maybe that’s over the top but it is bloody shit. Its one of those coughs that suddenly splutters out when unexpected. Its loud, hacking and nasty, occasionally bringing with it projectile gob bombs without warning. It is one of those coughs that has been specifically designed to ruin both my show by appearing when I’m building to an important bit, and other people’s shows as I punctuate their every word with a noise thrown from the inner depths of a broken man’s lungs.

Its odd that I keep telling people its a ‘terrible cough’. Its rare that I have ever told people I have a ‘great cough’ or an ‘excellent splutter’. ‘Oh yes, my cough is just superb. It sounds like someone punching a labrador through a combustion engine.’ I’d like it if people did do that about all sorts of ailments. It would make talking about them and getting them far more interesting. Imagine if you were lucky enough to get a riveting sinus infection? The sort that somehow blocked your nose but made you sound like Morgan Freeman? Or astonishing measles, which always form into a join the dots for friends and family to do?

Sadly I’ll have to hope for a good cough next time as this bad one appears to be staying to ensure I still can’t go out drinking at the Fringe. Another night in tonight, after last night’s surrender to terrible television, Casino Royale, slagging off BBC3′s coverage of the Fringe, and a banofee pie. The latter was amazing. The rest, less so. At least if I had a great cough I could go out and show it off. Instead I hacked up until a surprise discovered on BBC4 of ‘Exotic Pop’ where we watched a Danish Baron put on a West Indian accent and pretend to have sleigh dogs. It made no sense to me either but was easily better than some of the stuff I’ve seen at the fringe. I’m not sure where this blog is going now, but let’s all just hope for exciting ailments next fringe and for Danish Baron’s to be a bit racist and I think we’ll all have a lovely time.

Fringe 2011: Day 18

I am a fickle man. After my moaning and complaining of a few day’s back at my poor reviews, I received this yesterday from Three Weeks:

Which is all a bit bloody nice isn’t it? It’s so petty but that really was all I needed and now, as far as I’m concerned, my fringe is fine. I honestly couldn’t care what stars I get for the rest of the run, or who sees it, I can call it a four star show forever more. I realise that this is bonkers. Surely I shouldn’t be bothered by any of the reviews? Surely I should’ve re-read last year’s blogs where something very similar happened to me as well? Surely I’m over the whole fringe game by now? No, no clearly not. I have resigned myself to the fact that there are parts of life I just won’t grow up and this is one of them. Take that as a note Edinburgh Fringe, should you wish for me to be returning ever again, then I will need at least one four star review or I’ll have a huff and hide in my room till everyone goes away. Oh and if you could cut all the crusts of my sandwiches too. Thanks.

It is not just the review. Its also partly the fact that we are now two weeks in and I only have to perform my show 9 more times before I get to have a day off which is very exciting. Its so bad to wish time away but let’s be honest, my chest cough and sore throat aren’t going anywhere till I can stay in bed and not shout at a room full of people about how much I hate David Cameron. Oh, as a side note, Al Murray gave me a new remedy for said throat issues. Manuka honey and blackcurrant lozenges. Despite being the sort of sticky you’d only get if they made toffee out of superglue and thusly you end up eating half of the plastic packaging when finally giving up on unwrapping them, they seem to work. And they don’t taste like sheer hell. So so far, these are in the lead way above Sanderson’s which I have avoided since yesterday for fear its actually going past my throat and into my very soul.

I won’t spend another blog huffing and puffing about how much I want to do nothing for a day, so instead let me leave you with some small notes to do with days gone by:

- The Poetry Takeaway is the best thing in the world ever. Its by the Udderbelly and I highly recommend you swing by and get a custom made poem for your good selves.

- Humphrey Ker’s show is by far the best comedy show I’ve seen all fringe. If he doesn’t get nominated for something I will eat my own hat. With sauce of course. I’m not an idiot.

- Al Murray’s daughter is very good at sketch comedy.

- Yesterday a small boy in the audience at Comedy Club 4 Kids told Tom Allen that the best place to take a girl on a date was ‘the bushes’ and then ‘under the slide.’ Amazing.

- There are still tickets left for my show, which people seem to be enjoying. You can get them here:

TIERNAN DOUIEB VS THE WORLD

- the Haribo Super Mix advert is the worst thing I have ever seen in my life ever.

- My intro music for my show is Goodnight Lenin. They are awesome and via Twitter have found out I use their song and have now told me they will walk onstage to one of my jokes. I am more pleased about this than most things.

Fringe 2011: Day 17

A LEVELS

Good luck to all of those getting their A Level results today. I remember waiting for mine oh so many moons ago and it was nothing but a nerve wracking experience. I thought it’d be funny to put on Twitter earlier ‘Don’t forget if you don’t get the results you wanted its the end of the world and you should kill yourselves’ but in retrospect that was fairly mean, especially as I remember the panic I got in when I received mine. A rather humble two B’s and C, the former were a relief, being in English and the pointless course of Media Studies. I mean really, who needs that? No one. My course involved making a hip hop video about fishermen doing breakdancing and studying Psycho to the point where I started to agree with Norman Bates that certain people should be killed, mainly my teachers. The last one though, the C, was hurtful. It was my drama A Level. The one I’d worked tirelessly one, was on a straight beeline for an A and wanted for my entry into my university drama course. And it was a C. I remember getting wobbly lipped and panicky in stress as to what could be done, wondering if I really wanted to go to my second choice place of education and generally being very upset about the whole situation and confused as to why it might have happened. As luck would have it, I called Kent University and they’d already accepted me on the basis of my interview so it was all fine, and several days later it turned out that I got my C because the marker had mistaken someone else for me in my final production (i.e. got character names etc wrong) which couldn’t rectified but they were sorry for. Great. Thanks. Either way, all I’m saying is aside from getting into uni, I’ve never used those qualifications for anything, and even when I was in a real job they only ever wanted GCSE and degree results. So I’m not saying don’t work hard and if you’re a budding doctor or lawyer then yes, its a tad more important than if you want to be a wastrel like me, but just remember, there’s always a way forward. Or you know, you could just kill yourselves. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.

 

SANDERSONS

My throat is still rubbish. It is ridiculous just how long this has lasted now, and there has been several talk of me having nodules on my throat. I keep referring to them as nodes which is wrong, but makes me sound like a cyborg, so ultimately better. Since the start of this festival I’ve been growling like an angry dog and hacking and coughing like a 40 a day smoker. Yes a smoking dog. That’s what I sound like. I’m sure there’s a TV show in there. Huskie the Husky or summat. Anyway its now developing into me being actually ill and it feels a bit like the fringe is winning this year. Last night I again confined myself to home after doing my rap battle against Rayguns Look Real Enough (where I didn’t break dance as practicing at home I hurt my wrist and my chesty cough sent me into fits) then a brilliant sardonic chat show with Marcel Lucont, and it looks like tonight will be a similar endeavour. Its as though the fun has died. What’s worse is that to try and get the fun back I’m taking Sandersons Throat Specific Remedy. Its been recommended by many people so I decided to give it a go and all I can surmise from drinking it is that several people were obviously playing a prank on me. It tastes like the devil. I mean, not that I’ve tasted the devil and part of me is sure he’d be spicer, but I think it’d give me the same wrangled face of woe that this stuff does. I honestly can’t explain what it feels like to gargle some of the demon fluid but by god I wouldn’t be surprised if its been used in war as a torture implement. Its so bad I’m considering introducing it into drinking games when I’m feeling better. You should all try some. I daresay once you have you’ll enjoy ever second of life that you’re not drinking it so so much more. I really need my throat to work again….

 

ANDERSEN 2011

This morning I went to see L in her play ‘Andersen 2011′, but was the only person in the audience and hence it didn’t happen. This is sad for two reasons. 1) Because I got up earlier than usual this morning just to see it, and 2) because all the cast were ready to go and had no one to play to. Its horrible when this happens at the fringe. Admittedly the venue is not near everything else and advertising for this show could be better, but that’s C Venues fault for not seeming to care much about its Fringe Fringe. Either way though, seek out such things and you may be pleasantly surprised. I’ll be heading along to this show again in the next few days, so please join me and give these here actor types a crowd to woo. Ta.