Wednesday, 13 May 2009

Lazy Legge.

I can't just go back to doing fuck all now that I'm back from holiday. It's the whole point of holiday, isn't it? You go away to recharge your batteries and mine are now full. All I have to do is actually use them.

Edinburgh is just around the corner, not geographically but time-wise. You know, a time-corner. If I just spend my time like I normally do watching Doctor Who, screaming at James Corden pictures and playing Beat The Horse then it's going to be pointless. Not that Beat The Horse is a complete waste of time. It isn't. At least now I know how many furlongs I can masturbate for (4, not that many but that's not the point of the game) and it doesn't bare thinking about how I could have easily gone to my grave ignorant of that fact. But it's so hard to be influenced when you come back to Blighty after a week in the hot, hot sun.

Pretty much as soon as I got off the plane I got fed up. Ugly British people pushing other ugly British people out of the way just so they can stand and wait beside a chewing gum-riddled luggage carousel for a bag that will never ever come, then you get on the train and the same ugly British people are sitting there watching their holiday loudly on their phones. CUNTS! Plus it's cold and wet and the train is smelly and I've got 200 messages from people who needed an answer 5 days ago and I'm home and I'm grumpy and it's not fair and bollocks. As soon as I sat on the train the first thing I saw was someone reading a copy of Metro with Peter Andre and Katie Price on the front page. Fucking depressing. I've just been hanging out in beautiful mountains and turquoise lakes, the last thing I want to see is the celebrated brain-dead. I almost read the story but stopped myself. I just knew it would be something along the lines of "Peter Andre and Katie Price are to be re-married for the 17th time this week in a diamond encrusted tit on the top of a pink pony's dream. McFly, Richard Madeley and Rose West are confirmed guests". I couldn't stomach that being the first thing I read after a holiday. I still haven't checked out why they were on the front cover of Metro so if Peter and Katie have accidentally walked in to a big Murder Factory and were sliced to death by Killotron 3000 then fed to their own kids, let me know. It would slightly cheer me up.

Even pushing back the front door and picking up the billion offers of further debt is just the bank's way of saying "Fuck you, you're back, get used to it". They won't just give you 5 minutes to think "Well, I'm back. Best make the most of it. I'll just put the kettle on. Maybe have a biscuit. Wonder if there's a horse race on?" Real life just can't wait to ram itself up your arse after a holiday. It doesn't want to hear how the holiday was or see photos or ask if you think you'll keep in touch with that nice couple you met. Real life just wants to batter and rape you. Or worse. And anyone who thinks that you can't possibly compare returning from a holiday to extreme violence obviously hasn't come home to find that you forgot to throw the rubbish in the kitchen out before you left. My house stinks. Fucking, fucking, FUCKING real life!

King of Everything must take up my time from now until Edinburgh. I can't go back to Lazy Legge. We've got some great new ideas for the show, my favourite being The Diary of Frank Anne (I think you can see where that joke is going), and we must book lots of previews. If you have a venue and need King of Everything then please contact me. My one glimpse of Oooh coming back was late last night when I saw an episode of Tim & Eric Awesome Show Great Job! It's a fantastic American comedy show that just goes to such ridiculous extremes but also barely does anything. All I know is that it's hilarious and that's the show that I'm going to steal from now. If you haven't seen it, please go way out of your way to do so. Even if you hate it I think you'll admire the balls of these people. I love it.

One last thing about Croatia for those still not sure where to go on holiday this year: You can buy XXX Hard Core porn on DVD at roadside garages. It's right by the Kids DVD section. Honestly. That, I think, is a bit strange but nowhere near as strange as a monthly publication they have out there that we don't have here. Or anyone has anywhere else. Seinfeld Magazine. Bizarre.

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