And here we are still working up the routines for those whom it may be of interest to. Here’s some stuff we put out over the weekend….
I’m always saying I look a bit like a homeless Bee-Gee. But when you think about it the Scots are quite like the Bee-Gees. We’re hairy, we like to sing…and two thirds of us die prematurely.
In fact sorry if I sound a bit chesty tonight, but I drive a Volkswagen. You combine that with fact I’m a Scot and I like sausages and I’ll be lucky to make it to the end of this set.
I see the government want to raise retirement age in this country to 70. Which means most men in Scotland will enjoy their retirement 20 years after they’ve passed away.
We’re just not healthy. Life expectancy for a man in certain areas of Scotland is 57! Mind you if you live in Dundee…that’s probably enough.
Good old Dundee where the heroin comes in batter.
I’m still a bit tubby me but I was really over weight not so long back. My young smug doctor recommended I go on a diet. He said, “You’re now 16 stone. You’re clinically obese.” And then he asked, “How do you think this has happened?
How did I think it had happened? I felt like getting a hold of his stethoscope and shouting into it, “Err…Cheese burger and chips please.”
So I went on a diet. And it was horrible. This diet was so austere as a treat I was brushing my teeth for a pudding. So what I do now to improve my diet is I watch Master Chef. Because before I watched Master Chef lunch for me would be a pie and a blob of brown sauce. But not since watching Master Chef. No, what I do now is I put the pie in the middle of the plate…and I drizzle the brown sauce around the edge of the plate.
I’ve never been the most healthy of people. At school I was never very good at sports. I used to get called names…things like…goalkeeper.
I’m becoming aware of my mortality now, because there’s a thing that happens in your 40s that you don’t expect…a couple of your friends get ill and die. You get this really ominous phone call that starts with, “Hullo…Have you heard about Brian?”
Now when you get a phone call that starts with Hullo have you heard about Brian…there’s only two things that Brian could have done. He’s either touched a kid or he’s dead. Thankfully ladies and gentlemen he was dead. It was such a relief. Well I was getting suspicious…he’d been watching a lot of Rasta Mouse.
I have to watch now. I used to live excessively. I used to do a lot of drugs. Hell, we used to drug drive. Well my mate Jimmy would drive and I would roll the joints. It really does affect your judgement. One day I glanced up from my rolling and said, “Hey Jimmy man look out we’re going to hit that tree. No really…Jimmy! Look out there’s a tree right in the middle of the road…Oh no, hang on a minute…It’s the air freshener.
I was perma stoned man. I was always doing that thing where you wander into a room and then ask…why did I come in here? What’s that?…..Oh I see…This is where I work.
I’ve been trying though…I’ve just done the whole Sober October thing. And I’ll try to keep going on into Just say no November. I’ll probably relapse during the festive period. That will be can’t remember December. Jacked up January. Fucked for February…in a morgue by March.
Thing is I don’t really trust people that don’t drink. Hitler didn’t drink. Apparently one pint and he turned into a right bastard.
You’re always learning about yourself. I recently discovered I’m still afraid of the dark. I did a gig in December and got of as train in the countryside in the evening and it was already dark. My Google maps said I can either pay 10 pounds in a taxi to get me to the gig…or…there’s a 15 minute shortcut across the moors. That’s the actual words it used…across the moors. Everybody knows you shouldn’t cross the moor. That’s where the werewolf lives!
But I thought to hell with it. I’m saving a tenner. 10 minutes in I was shitting myself. It was pitch dark and I hear a coughing noise coming from a field. That’s a sheep I told myself…they’re notorious for their tickly throats…it’s all that wool.
A few minutes later things got worse. I went into a valley and came to a tunnel. It was too late to turn back now. So I was edging my way through pitch darkness in this tunnel. By now I’ve got a small pair of scissors that I use to trim my beard held out in front of me. Had anybody just stepped out of the darkness and said good evening…fuck it…they were getting stabbed in the throat.
And then I realised…This is how friendly fire happens. I’m in the country and I’m terrified of a sneezy sheep. Imagine if you were at war. If you were spread out. What’s that noise. Who goes there? No answer. fuck it I’d fire. And that’s when it happens. Shit that was one of us.
Well, it happens all the time this is a war after all. Never mind I’ll make the phone call…hello…have you heard about Brian?