Some favourite quick jokes.

Some of the my favourites. You can see me in clubs…I might not be doing stand up, but that’s where you tend to find me….   

My uncle wasn’t well in life. he used to have a cheap NHS pacemaker. It wasn’t so great…every time he farted the garage door would open.

Mt father passed away through having white asbestos all through him. The funeral was lovely but it took an age to cremate him.

A man said to me, “Hypothetically speaking you’re in a hot air balloon with Donald Trump and Theresa May…Who do you through out?”   I said “Probably myself.”

Government to impose cuts to mental health services. Self harmers were said to be initially furious but then spotted a window of opportunity

Andrea Leadsome famously said, “men can’t be nannies, because all men are potential paedophiles. ” I wonder what it was about working in Westminster that made her leap to that conclusion.

If Heather Mills and Abu Hamza were to have a baby together they’d make a pirate.

I saw in the paper the other day a headline proclaiming “The Hunt is on For The New Jihadi John. I thought these talent competitions have gone too far.

My name is Jock Scott which is a very Scottish name. I’ve got a cousin from Yorkshire called Hovis Broadband Miners Strike.

I actually typed tax evasion into the internet and it just went to Google’s homepage.

Gary Barlow is so tight that when questioned about tax evasion he wouldn’t even share his thoughts.  Sorry, I mean Gary Barlow OBE – Offshore Banking Expert.

In Scotland we didn’t vote for Brexit because to us the word just sounds like something’s been damaged. Brexit…it’s what happens when a fat lass sits on a chair.

I got the Donald Trump version of Cluedo. that’s the one where it doesn’t matter who did it, you just always blame the immigrant…and Mrs White always wins.

A UKIP councillor has claimed that the recent floods were caused by God being angry at gay marriage. I was sceptical until I heard that lightning had damaged the statue of Jesus in Rio.  God must be depressed about something if he’s started to self-harm.

It wasn’t all good news for Farage in the lead up to the election was it? He got hit by an egg in Stoke.  Because of that he now chooses to travel with four body guards. Fair enough…there’s six eggs in a box.

A UKIP donor has published an advert in the Telegraph stating there is no such thing as homophobia because the words not in the dictionary. It actually is in the dictionary. It’s sandwiched in between homoerotic and homosexual….which is probably the last place homophobia wants to be sandwiched but that will teach it a lesson.

So we finally left the EU. Or as UKIP pronounce it EUGH!

I actually typed tax evasion into the internet and it just went to Google’s homepage.

Gary Barlow is so tight that when questioned about tax evasion he wouldn’t even share his thoughts.  Sorry, I mean Gary Barlow OBE – Offshore Banking Expert.

A short conversation on right wing comedians.

As a comic I’ve no huge issues to make with comedians that go at stuff from the right. If I don’t like it I move on. Simple. Surely that should be the rule on all of it. But I did have this conversation with a posh old lady recently that really made me laugh….



OLD LADY:  “Why is it that all comedians are on the left? I’m a Tory and would like to see more right wing comedians.”

ME: “Well there are conservative comedians nowadays. And if you think not so long ago lots of comedians were Tories or on the right. Just look at Jim Davidson and Bernard Manning.”

OLD LADY:  “Yes but they were horrible.”

ME    “Yeah I know. I wonder why that was.”

The Male Pill.

So we’ve got Trump, Clinton, Brexit and the failing pound but the big news is…Scientists announce they’ve finally developed the male pill. And it’s not really before time is it? I mean for women you’ve got pills, coils, implants, patches, caps, and being locked for a week in the menstruating hut. What do we have for men? Err…Rubber Johnny. 100 years of contraception and that’s it! Or get your balls cut off.

Thing is just by a show of hands…How many women here would trust a man who said he was on the pill? (TUMBLEWEED SOUND) Exactly!

I reckon before they bring the male pill out it should have something in it that helps prove a bloke is actually taking it. Perhaps it could make your willy glow in the dark, or it makes your balls make a noise like wind chimes.

I was looking at how the male pill actually works and apparently it lowers sperm count by targeting a bit of the man’s brain. REALLY? You’re telling me there’s some kind of correlation between the brain and the penis. No way! My willy can’t tell the difference between a woman and a bus.

Genuinely there’s a term for why men get unprovoked stiffies on public transport. It’s called Diesel Penis. It’s because of the vibrations from the diesel engine. I mean this could explain why bus drivers always look so unhappy. “Look son just pay the fare and get on the bus. I’ve been sitting with this thing for six hours now. I just want to get home and throttle the life out the bastard. Anyway when are you getting off?”

“When am I getting off? Well that really depends on your driving. If you just give the engine a good fierce revving when we get to the lights I’ll see what I can do.”


John gets mad. Bi Polar tales 3. Bad behaviours.

Some stories from a new show I’m doing on mental health.

A friend of mine who is recently single asked me one night. “John did you ever have a longer period in your life when you were single? And was it all right.”  I told them yes I had and no it wasn’t that great. It was over a 5 year period when I’d been misdiagnosed with schizophrenia. That’s never a great icebreaker. It reminds me of that daft valentines poem. “Roses are red violets are blue. I’m a schizophrenic and so am I.”

So not schizophrenic but this was a period in my life when I was self medicating with dope a lot which gave me drug induced psychosis. Drug psychosis is a lot more common that you think.  David Bowie had it in the 70s. At one point he was so off it he thought his backing singers were a coven of witches. It would have been some show if for an encore he came running on with a mob insisting we burn them at the stake.

The best Bowie story of that period was the night he thought he’d been ripped of by a cocaine dealer. So he went out looking for him in his car. Eventually he thought he saw the dealers car at a garage. Then he thought the best plan of action would be to start ramming it with his own car. But it wasn’t the coke dealer it was just a young German couple who sat there looking stunned as David Bowie kept ramming them over and over. Scary enough to have someone ram you as you’re sitting having a snog. But then to turn around and realise it’s David Bowie. “Holy Scheisse Helga. Ve ist being attacked by A lad insane.” Eventually Bowie realised his error. Got out, apologised to them, handed them a pile of money then drove of into the night.You don’t get that stuff from ther winner of X-factor. A lot of people say X Factor has destroyed the spirit of rock and roll, but that’s rubbish every time it comes on I’m ready to throw my telly right out the window.

A lot of folk don’t understand what addiction is. So I’ll try to explain it via a story. One night me and a mate did get ripped of and got sold some Ritalin instead of ecstasy. The medication they  use to pacify disruptive children. We knew not long after it definitely wasn’t E. As we were feeling weird.  So what did we do? That’s right take some more. Later in the night we decided to go for some groceries. Well once they managed to get me up off the naughty step. Thing is as we decided this I’d just made myself a cup of tea. So I thought, bugger it I’ll take it with me. When we got to the supermarket at 2 in the morning a security guard stopped me and said, “Oi! Is that alcohol in that cup?” I said, “No mate it’s tea.” He replied, “Tea? Where you going with that.” I said “Where do you think…the biscuit isle.”

I’ve embarrassed myself many times in those day. worse one? I reckon that would be one morning at a friends house after a particularly bonkers night on the Rave. My mate had gone out and his wife had just up and gone into the shower. As soon as she got in there I felt my stomach shifting. It felt like there was about 2 litres of pure liquid diarrhoea rushing through me like mercury. There was no ifs about it any second I was going to explode out of me and complete transform my tie dye jeans. I had no idea what I was going to do…and then I spotted the cat litter tray. There was nothing else for it. If you saw what came out of me it looked like Id been on a diet of cabbage and cough medicine. Not a minute too soon as my mates wife came into the kitchen. I just stood there with the tray and said, “I really think your cat might be quite unwell.”




John Gets Mad. Bi-Polar Tales 2. Introductions and so who’s really mad?

Here’s another part of a new stand up show I’m putting together on mental health…

I was actually really reluctant to do this at first because unlike physical disability mental health still carries a lot of stigma. Mind you we’re getting to a stage now where comedy audiences at least are starting to go, “Oh…another Bi-Polar comedian…that’s original.”

It’s fair to say there are a few of us out there. I was thinking of gathering us all together, forming a jazz band and calling ourselves Mood Swings.

I actually get quite jealous of the physically Disabled. They get an entire Olympics. We get a Stephen Fry documentary every ten years.

When Stephen did that first documentary on Bi-Polar. I watched it and was gobsmacked to see we both had the same psychiatrist. I though, “Well I’ve not had his comedy career, but when it comes to shit mental health I’m up there with the elites.”

I do love the Paralympics and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on at times. One night I tuned in I genuinely thought they were having a three legged race. It turned out to be the blind sprinting. They have a guide running beside them. One guy was actually disqualified because the guide was hauling him along. Mind you he was strapped to Usain Bolt. Poor guy was screaming “Help! I think I’ve be tied to a Cheetah.”

Saying that, those guys don’t get it easy either. Now that the Paralympics is over I’m sure they’ve all been declared fit for work and sent to do time in some Mike Ashley style workhouse.

My Bi-polar is a bit different from Stephen Fry’s. He’s Bi-Polar Two I’m Bi-Polar One. Not that I’m saying here…Hey! My Bi-Polar is better than yours. Mines has gold epaulettes, brass buttons and is here to save the planet. Although being the centre of the world is a common delusion of BP 1. It’s not until the finally get you into a psyche ward that you realise, “The Masons are after me.” is quite a common delusion among the mentally ill. Which initially doesn’t help. “What is this place? They’ve managed to catch you as well? Is this some kind of holding facility for those that know the truth?”

You meet people with other mental illnesses as well. I feel for the schizophrenics. Bi-Polar is quite trendy now but those guys get bad press. Sadly it’s a condition where very rarely AND IT IS VERY RARE something bad happens and someone gets hurt. Saying that if Katie Hopkins is ever to go on QI could we maybe get the Yorkshire Ripper as guest host.

Those guys have auditory hallucinations. They hear voices. That must be absolutely awful. What gets me is the voices seem to tell them to do bad things like kill the neighbours. Why do they never say sensible things like, “Hey, maybe it’s time you tidied the house….Feeling a bit anxious? Perhaps you should give your mum a phone…or hey this is God. Have you ever thought about switching to a cheaper energy supplier.”

But you tell me…Who’s really mad. Those with delusions in a made up world or those with delusions in the real world? That’s right we’re about to make someone like Donald Trump the most powerful man on the planet. He shows all the characteristics of a psychopath and you folks think that’s a vote winner. People were surprised recently when he showed some concern for Hilary Clintons health. Yeah but we never saw that on camera. He issued a statement. I can guarantee there was some fucker putting a gun to his head going, “Just say the fucking words on the paper.”

We have our own deluded type in this country. The Working class Tory. What the fuck is that? You know what that is…remember those missionaries who used to head up the jungle, meet a tribe of cannibals and go Hey we’ve got some new friends and they’ve invited us to dinner. All the time not realising they’re on the fucking menu. That’s what a working class Tory is.

So you tell me. Who’s mad?


Some economic advice.

It’s interesting when you go to the cash machine and one of the options is, would you like an advice slip. The thing is it’s not really advice is it? It’s just the correct information about the precarious state of your financial affairs.

If it was advice it would say something like…ah well…you’re fucked. But it isn’t all your fault.

The reason for your financial distress is our governments have sold themselves out to large corporations.

These corporations are moving cheap labour all around the globe which results in wage stagnation and push down economics.

They have no interest in your financial welfare. They are designed to push for maximum profits at a great cost to human welfare.

These profits are then divided among a small group of share holders and directors while you the worker get pushed further and further into almost slave like conditions.

You have one of two choices in this situation. You can stick your head in the sand until they take the last of your rights from you…or…you can unite, take up arms and tear down your oppressors.

Now that would be advice.


Comedy Outlaws no. 6. Bill Hicks.

“Today, a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration—that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we’re the imagination of ourselves. Here’s Tom with the weather.” BILL HICKS

I hope by now anyone reading these short biographies of my favourite comedians will now realise the numbers are not in order of merit. If they were the William Melvin “Bill” Hicks would obviously be number one…by quite a jump. By happy accident I’ve assigned him the Devils number. He’d probably appreciate that. Hell, he actually started out his career as a teenage stand up being part of a troupe of American comedians known as the Texas Outlaw Comics at The Comedy Workshop in Houston. About 95% of us that are Bill Hicks fans sadly became aware of him after his death of pancreatic cancer in 1994 at the tragically young age of 32. Had he lived modern stand-up comedy may have ended up vastly different to the toothless and anodyne fare the corporate shills spoon feed us now. However if he didn’t get cancer I’m sure the powers that be would have to have found some other way to silence him…Am I implying he was killed by his own government? Well if I am it’s purely in the spirit and memory of him.

“Isn’t humanity neat?’ bullshit. We’re a virus with shoes, okay? That’s all we are.” BILL HICKS.

If you’re not familiar with his work, and many people aren’t now would be a good time to become familiar. The subject matters of he tackled covered a wide range of social issues including religion, politics, and philosophy all daubed with a jet black comedy style and voice.

He criticized consumerism, superficiality, mediocrity, and banality within the media and popular culture, which he characterized as oppressive tools of the ruling class that keep people “stupid and apathetic.”

I was in Nashville, Tennessee last year. After the show I went to a Waffle House. I’m not proud of it, I was hungry. And I’m alone, I’m eating and I’m reading a book, right? Waitress walks over to me: ‘Hey, whatcha readin’ for?’ Isn’t that the weirdest fuckin’ question you’ve ever heard? Not what am I reading, but what am I reading FOR? Well, goddamnit, ya stumped me! Why do I read? Well . . . hmmm…I dunno…I guess I read for a lot of reasons and the main one is so I don’t end up being a fuckin’ waffle waitress.” BILL HICKS.

I remember exactly where I was the first time I saw him. It was 1994 and late at night. Channel 4 were doing a retrospective special on him a short documentary featuring friends and other comics was shown and then they showed the concert film Revelations which was filmed here in the UK. Prior to viewing I had no idea who he was or that stand up could tackle the world in quite the unique (at the time) way that he did. I remember by the end feeling shocked, at times my sensibilities were offended but with an overall feeling of exhilaration. Plus the downer of a realisation, “Fuck…this guy is dead?”

“Watching television is like taking black spray paint to your third eye.” BILL HICKS

Bill began his comedy career young. As a teenager he would sneak out of his home at night with his friend Dwight Slade and travel to a nearby comedy club to try routines. Immediately the older comics were impressed by his ability. I’ve seen footage of him performing aged 17 it professionally annoying how good he is. Much of his early material would mock his Southern Baptist religious beliefs. “We were Yuppie Baptists,” he joked to the Houston Post in 1987. “We worried about things like, ‘If you scratch your neighbour’s Subaru, should you leave a note?’ “

A typical argument with his father has been documented as going along these lines…

The elder Hicks would say, “I believe that the Bible is the literal word of God.” And Bill would counter, “No it’s not, Dad.” “Well, I believe that it is.” “Well,” Bill replied, “you know, some people believe that they’re Napoleon. That’s fine. Beliefs are neat. Cherish them, but don’t share them like they’re the truth.”

There’s a bit of a lazy myth I used to hear when I first started going around the British stand up circuit that he was never a success in America and only found fame here in the UK. Well, he had his own HBO special in 1990, had a very successful and televised run at Montreal’s Just for Laughs and appeared 12 times on David Letterman’s chat show. sadly the last appearance he made was dropped from the broadcast.

Hicks said, because Letterman’s producers believed the material, which included jokes involving religion and the anti-abortion movement, was unsuitable for broadcast. Producer Robert Morton initially blamed CBS, which denied responsibility; Morton later conceded it was his decision. Although Letterman later expressed regret at the way Hicks had been handled, Hicks did not appear on the show again.

Letterman finally aired the censored routine in its entirety on January 30, 2009. Hicks’s mother, Mary, was present in the studio and appeared on-camera as a guest. Letterman took responsibility for the original decision to remove Hicks’s set from the 1993 show. “It says more about me as a guy than it says about Bill,” he said, after the set aired, “because there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.” Amen to that.

“The worst kind of non-smokers are the ones that come up to you and cough. That’s pretty fucking cruel isn’t it? Do you go up to cripples and dance too?” BILL HICKS.

I work in the comedy industry full time as a comic. When I started in 1999 and worked alongside a certain Frankie Boyle at the Stand Comedy club. A club with a reputation for promoting edgier or more alternative comedy. I remember thinking that stand up was going to all become like Bill Hicks. That his legacy would be enormous. A thousand comedic voices of righteous indignation. Now I look back and sadly realise he was an anomaly. It was a miracle any of his stuff got through at all.

I’ve immersed myself in more socio political comedy in recent years. When people ask why I say, “Nothing original. I’m just trying to be like Bill Hicks.”

I’m sure there must be some young upstart comic out there who’s brilliant and wont play their corporate game. I hope they break through. We really are well over due another anomaly. The last words here are a final short piece Bill wrote a week before he passed. His is the only biography I’ve ever read where I broke down in tears at the end. The hero dies you see… Christ I’m welling up now. Some funny guy you Mr Hicks.

“I was born William Melvin Hicks on December 16, 1961 in Valdosta, Georgia. Ugh. Melvin Hicks from Georgia. Yee Har! I already had gotten off to life on the wrong foot. I was always “awake,” I guess you’d say. Some part of me clamoring for new insights and new ways to make the world a better place. All of this came out years down the line, in my multitude of creative interests that are the tools I now bring to the Party. Writing, acting, music, comedy. A deep love of literature and books. Thank God for all the artists who’ve helped me. I’d read these words and off I went – dreaming my own imaginative dreams. Exercising them at will, eventually to form bands, comedy, more bands, movies, anything creative. This is the coin of the realm I use in my words – Vision. On June 16, 1993 I was diagnosed with having “liver cancer that had spread from the pancreas.” One of life’s weirdest and worst jokes imaginable. I’d been making such progress recently in my attitude, my career and realizing my dreams that it just stood me on my head for a while. “Why me!?” I would cry out, and “Why now!?” Well, I know now there may never be any answers to those particular questions, but maybe in telling a little about myself, we can find some other answers to other questions. That might help our way down our own particular paths, towards realizing my dream of New Hope and New Happiness. Amen. I left in love, in laughter, and in truth and wherever truth, love and laughter abide, I am there in spirit.”