Tuesday, 13 October 2009

Big Scrap.

Someone tried to kick Jerk. I think you can guess how angry I am. If you can't then think of it this way, imagine someone had actually kicked your favourite child in the face and his little child body fell down the stairs and you ran down the stairs to catch your favourite child but you weren't quick enough and your favourite child just exploded on the ground and all you could hear is the man who kicked your favourite child laughing while smoking a big cigar and fucking your wife. You'd be angry, right? Well, I'm more angry than that.

Jerk is better than any child. Even Shirley Temple in her heyday would say "I'm a big bag of broken bollocks compared to that dog" so trying (a little bit) to kick is something that I can't tolerate.

Jerk and I were in the park and whilst strolling we came across a massive bellend. He was leaning up against a tree and having a cigarette. Jerk loves trees. They are the things that male dogs piss on and Jerk loves nothing more than sniffing day old tree-piss. The bellend obviously had a bit of a fear of dogs but I couldn't tell that just by looking at him so, to show that he is terrified of dogs that have absolutely no interest in his existence, he lamely kicked out at Jerk when she came to sniff the wee-wee. "Get your fucking dog away from me", he said.

I was angry now.

I was angry but I respect people who are scared of dogs. Dogs aren't for everyone and that's why I was always very strict on recall with Jerk when I first got her. If someone looked uncomfortable at the thought of passing by my dog I simply shout "Jerk" and she comes right by my side. The people then walk past me and have totally forgotten that they're scared of dogs because the stupid man has shouted a nearly rude word in the park. My Mum is scared of dogs. I totally respect that some people are scared of dogs. But I don't think (pathetically) trying to kick a dog and then being rude to it's owner is going to get you very far. It doesn't with me, anyway.

I threw Jerk a dog-biscuit and while she was busy eating I stood right beside the man and stared at him. He got uncomfortable very quickly. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just standing here", I replied. I then moved closer.

The bellend mumbled something and started walking away but I followed him as close as I had been. He turned and asked if I had a problem, the classic fight-opener. I did have a problem, the classic fight-starter. "Yes", I said. "I don't like it when someone tries to kick my dog then refers to my dog as my fucking dog".

I went red with embarrassment as these words left my empty head. What the fuck was I doing? I'm not the man with no name and this bellend had not insulted my mule. I'm going to get in a fight. In a park. Just like a smelly poor person. And it's all my fault.

"Alright. Sorry, mate. OK?", he said. He backed away and held his hand out to shake mine. I agreed. We went our seperate ways.

I got back home and started to stop shaking. It's Nobby's fault. I totally blame Nobby. "Well, I'm not backing down" is fine when you're attacking a woman with Leukemia but not a dodgy-looking angry man in a park. If you ever see me try to start a fight again will you please beat me up? I'm an idiot.

Great. So now I'm in a bad mood after two very lovely days. On Sunday I went to Hitchin to record Precious Little Podcast number 5 which was good fun but both James and I (mainly I) were a bit shit. Still, I'm very happy to say that we're at number 26 in the iTunes Comedy Podcast charts (we were number 21) and number 43 in the iTunes All Podcasts chart so it's nice to know we have some listeners. Thanks very much for that. We'll try not to be shit next week. The main bit I enjoyed was trying to figure out what other podcasts we could beat up (fuck! Back to fighting!) and concluded that we hadn't a chance with Phill & Phil, a maybe with The Trap and Answer Me This were fucking dead meat. If you'd like to organise a fight between us and another podcast please do so. RIGHT. I HAVE TO STOP STARTING FIGHTS. Fucking hell.

Speaking of podcasts, I went to see Richard Herring's excellent As It Occurs To Me sketch show recording at the Leicester Square Theatre last night. I very much recommend seeing it even though it's Herring showing off that he's good at something else now. The cunt. It's on for the next nine Mondays, it's a brand new topical show each week and it only costs £10. Also you can download it for free the next day on iTunes but if you weren't there I think you shouldn't be allowed to or at least you should pay a tenner. It also features Emma Kennedy and Dan Tetsell (who is a lovely, lovely man despite the Nazi blood, crying bastard girlfriend and rude baby).

It was a great show. You should go. I counted 6 references to Andrew Collins in it but maybe there will be more when you go. Seems he can't quite let go. Mind you, I call nearly everyone I know Johnny so I know how he feels. I'm on Andrew's 6 Music show this Thursday with Jim Kerr and (hopefully) my signed copy of Live In The City of Lights that Jim signed for me in Belfast in 1987. No doubt he'll remember that brief moment fondly. Either that or I'll kick his fucking head in.

Oh, for fuck's sake.


1 comment:

Gilder said...

I have only ever seen a few pictures of Phil Wilding, but I am completely onside in terms of being frightened the holy shite out of by him. He is sure a vampire lord (Bram Stoker not Stephanie Meyer).

I would like to hear your prediction in event of a faceoff between you fellows of Precious Little vs Rhod Gilbert (+ Chris Corcoran).