As a continuing occasional series here I am again with some examples of what a do for a living (honestly people really do give me money for this) to whom it may concern…some of this is brand new, some of it not so…Oh and that last set I posted…the Departure Lounge routine didn’t work…but the rest did…
BEE GEE to BEGGAR
I used to often start my sets with the words. It’s nice to be here, but then it’s nice to be anywhere when you look like a homeless Bee-Gee.
But this really happened to me outside a train station. I was standing quietly having a cigarette, when I suddenly saw 10 pence come flying through the air and land at my feet. I looked up and there was a dad with his wee boy, and the wee boy said, “There you go.”
So I picked it up and enquired, “Do you think I’m homeless?”
To which he replied, “No but now that you’ve picked it up we know that you’re Scottish.”
I said, “Don’t you stereotype me young man!” And then I glassed him.
NOT MR SATURDAY NIGHT.
I’m not your typical Saturday night comedian. In fact I look at modern Saturday night telly and despair.
If you enjoy Saturday night T.V. it’s not necessarily that I think you’re an idiot…but the people that make it…They think you’re a fucking moron.
But there are worse people than those that enjoy Saturday night T.V. There are those people that record Saturday night TV to watch at another time… and then come out to live comedy and expect me to replicate what they’re missing. Then look utterly bewildered as to why I’m not either skipping or noticing what’s funny about things like bread.
They say the X-Factor has destroyed the spirit of Rock and Roll, but that’s rubbish. Because every time it comes on I’m ready to throw the telly right out the window.
Everything’s commercial now, even Glastonbury. I remember Glastonbury when for 20 quid you’d get a complimentary ecstasy, free entry and a pre-prepared bottle of piss to throw at Paul McCartney.
CDs IN GENRE.
I’m a huge music fan. I’ve probably got over 600 CDs in my collection. That’s right ladies no digital in my house. Proper shelves put up for a proper man collection.
Men are a bit autistic when it comes to that stuff. We like lists. We like things being in alphabetical order. Don’t mess with that shit or the universe will explode. I took that one step further once…I tried to put them in genre…It starts out easy. You go Punk easy, Britpop simple, soul, rock etc but.. then it gets complicated.
My wife found my system bewildering…
Where’s my ABBA CD?
Easy! That’s beside George Michael and the soundtrack from Moulin Rouge.
What genre is that?
Err…Gay. That’s right I turned gay into a genre. Like it’s something you could grow out of or just dabble in.
But that’s the problem. Where do you put someone like Bowie. He started of rock, went soul and ended up electronic.
My wife says, “Why is Bowies Ziggy Stardust period separate from the rest and next to Simply Red and Florence and the Machine.
Ah well I was solving a problem with that. So that particular period of his work is now under ginger.
Right…and what’s Coldplay, Leonard Cohens greatest hits and all the Oasis Albums apart from the first 2.
And Robbie Williams is in with Jay Z and Kanye West…Robbie’s not a rapper.
No…but he is an arsehole.
Right…and Amy Winehouse, Bob Marley, The Doors and more George Michael. What on earth is that?
Ah…sadly that’s dead.
But George Michael isn’t dead?
Give him time pet…give him time.