Sunday, 23 August 2009

Sick, Sober and Sorry.

You can run but you can't hide. The cunts will find you in the end. There I was thinking that maybe I could get away with not bumping into any complete arseholes up here and, so far, I'd been doing a damn fine job of it. I'd been generally happy and enjoying myself up here. That is NOT the spirit of the Fringe.

I gigged in Glasgow last night and when I got back to Edinburgh arranged to meet Robin Ince at a bar called Medina. When I got there Robin had decided he didn't want to stay because some of the bigger boys were looking at him funny or something. Fine. We'll find another pub. This wasn't as easy as you might think in Edinburgh. It was Saturday night, after all, and every bar was rammed. Finally we found a bar that was near our flat. Hooray for us. We got booze and sat down. What a mistake.

Robin had an entourage with him. Two delightful women who I was never introduced to and one massive cock who I also was never introduced to. I didn't need to be introduced to him. He was loud, annoying, a focus-stealing little bitch in a very quiet bar. I pretty much spotted him immediately. His name is Abie and he is a comedian. I know, I know. He's a tool already.

He was being loud and talking about his sunglasses. It was an important issue he was discussing at us, should he wear them on his head or just keep them dangling on the neck of his t-shirt? Mo' sunglasses, mo' problems, eh? I thought I could throw in a little joke at this point, just to lighten the "God, this guy is a prick" mood. "I think having sunglasses in Scotland is an affront to God", I said. "You don't get it.", he bored. "I'm Irish". You're right, Abie. Why would I get that? Oh, and what the fuck does that even mean? And that was the beginning of the end of mine and Abie's friendship.

Closing time was 1 o'clock but I knew another bar even nearer the flat. Brilliant. When we arrived we arranged some seats and I said I'd buy a round. Abie wanted a glass of water. Does this man have a redeeming feature? I soon discovered that he did not.

A glass of water is free. I didn't have to put my hand in my wallet to make sure that Abie was properly hydrated but just because I didn't pay for it doesn't mean that he doesn't need to thank me. He didn't thank me. In fact, not only did he not thank me he pushed me out of the way to get his water from the bar. I really don't like this guy now. I will hate him later.

We turn from the bar to take our seats that we had gathered together when we arrived. Abie had other plans. He arranged more seats in a different part of the bar. Fine. We'll sit there. I sat beside Abie. Lucky me. When I sat down he moved his seat round so he had his back to me and therefore blocking not only me but also Sarah Bennetto and James Dowdeswell from the table. The rude cunt. Don't get me wrong, I love Robin too but I am very willing to share him. By this stage, Abie had already fucked off James by saying how crap everything is in the Fringe. James asked him several times what it was that Abie liked at the Fringe. Abie kept ignoring the question. Good. He's now pissed off two people he's just met. He's a charmer.

Eventually, Robin pops out to do some light shopping which leaves Abie with no focus for his ridiculous mouth to yap at. Sadly, he turns to us. Sarah was in the middle of a story which Abie, the fucking tool, feels confident to interrupt. Sarah tells him that she's in the middle of a story and continues. This is now Abie's cue to start playing air guitar. Honestly. A fucking grown man is playing air guitar while adults are talking. Sarah asks him to stop because it's distracting to which he replies "Just ignore me. Go on with your little story". What a fucking cunt. For fuck's sake, Abie, no-one wants to hear Sarah's story but there's no need to be rude. Sarah was too polite to say anything but I'm old and see no reason to be polite to rude people anymore. "Stop it now", I said. I wish I could remember how I put him down but I can't. He just smiled sarcastically and said "Everyone's a comedian". "Not everyone", I said sternly. Then Abie did my little favourite: he started talking in a Northern Irish accent.

I was now so angry that I really didn't know what to say to the guy. "Racist" was the only thing I could manage.

"Racist?" said Abie. "You lot call us Mexicans".

Yeah, it doesn't make any sense to me either but I went along with it.

"What do you mean?", I sighed.

"Well, if we in the south of Ireland are Mexicans then that makes you Texas".

"Will you stop trying out new material on me, Abie?"

"That material is tried and tested", he said without irony.

What an absolute sack. He talks in material. What a fucking awful, awful prick. I went to the toilet to have an angry piss.

When I get back I see that Abie has taken my seat. Robin has returned and, quite wisely, has decided to join our side of the table. Abie won't be stopped though. He'll just take my seat. That was it for me. I needed to tell him what I thought of him. And I did. And I enjoyed it. But did the self-admiring little fucknut feel embarrassed and leave? Fuck no. It's Abie! Abie has so little clue that he's disliked that even when you tell him he's a cunt he assumes you love him. I asked him if anyone has said that he is rude before. The egotistical bollock just rolled his eyes and said "Yes". He said it like it happens every day. He said it like it happens every day and it's so BOOOOOORING.

Robin stepped in to defuse the situation and I was fine with that. I had told Abie what I thought of him and how rude he'd been and he, to be fair, had apologised. The eye rolling thing made his apology worthless, of course, and he didn't apologise to Sarah for being rude to her. He should. And he should take up drinking. At least if you're going to be a total cunt all your life, have an excuse for it.

In a way, I should thank Abie because he has genuinely put me off the festival and made me so angry that my blog will probably be a bit better now. But he's a cunt so I won't.

On a more positive note, Pete Harris and his utterly beautiful wife came to see King of Everything yesterday. It was lovely to see him as Johnny and I both love him for being a great guy and thank him for pretty much starting off our careers. He said some lovely things about the show and we both felt like we'd had the stamp of approval from someone who knows. Pete started up the brilliant Screaming Blue Murder comedy clubs in the 90's and isn't always as positive about what he see's in the world of comedy. He likes us. That's very, very good.

No comments: