Sunday, 3 January 2010

Failing The Drug Test.

Great start to 2010 gigs last night in Camden. A lovely gig made lovelier with the presence of Noel Britten, a comedian I was lucky enough to work with for a month in Edinburgh in 1999. I've worked with him a lot since then but not so much over the last few years. It was a real treat.

Noel is a proper comedian with proper jokes. A naturally funny man who is slick like one of them there comedians from years ago but silly enough to be modern. I like him.

You should see him. He's good.

He's also very good company. He doesn't take the comedy business too seriously despite every single person involved in it being an evil Nazi bastard plus he has a lifestyle that I am completely jealous of. For three months of the year he doesn't traipse around the country playing The Laughing Arse in Rhyl or Wacky-Woo's in Amersham, he goes to Borneo and looks after Orang-utans. Orang-Utans are great. They rarely heckle and they don't sit at tables wearing glittery deely-boppers and singing "Here Come The Girls" loudly while you're trying to change their minds with some edgy material about how some men often forget how long they've been going out with their partners.

Nice gig. Nice company. Nice journey home. This is how I wanted to start the year. I wonder how long it will be like that for?

Thanks to my lack of memory (I really have to start keeping notes) I totally forgot to write about my final argument on a train of 2009. To be honest, I don't come out of this at all well. In fact, I come across as a nutter.

I'd had a few beers at the gig in Reading. Not too many but I'm trying to give myself an excuse for my behaviour. Admittedly it's a pathetic excuse but it's all I've got. I got on the train to Twickenham to my friend's New Year do by the Thames and half an hour into the journey I smelled druggers.

There were druggers on the train. DRUGGERS! Doing drugs. They were smoking drugs on the train. Not only is that illegal it's illegal. As I am The Train Dad I thought I'd best say something. I knew nothing bad would happen because there were only two of them, they looked about 16 and were very weedy (in more ways than one). They were sitting quite close so I just stood up, leaned over and asked them to put out their marijuana doobie joints and they apologised and put out they blunts.

Well, that was easy. And that was it. My last argument of 2009. Anyway, bye!

Oh, no. Hang on. There's more.

The drug-children then got up from their seats and moved to another part of the carriage. Stupidly, it was still part of the carriage that was near me. Then they lit up their 60's beatnik narcotics again.

For fuck's sake.

I went over and the first words out of my mouth were "What did I say?" What gave me the right to say that only baby Jesus and Mr. Kronenbourg know. They apologised again but The Arsehole Within had already come out and I was on a roll. I took the mindtrip reefer from the DRUGGER's hand and threw it out the window. Already, that is mad. I got madder. I told one of them to give me his phone.

He looked at me like I was insane. INSANE? I'm not the one filling my head with that JUNK, I thought while the alcohol that is full of horrible chemicals swirled in my blood. "Why do you want my phone?", he asked. How dare a zonked out drug hippy ask me a reasonable question like that! "I'm going to throw it out of the window", I replied with the measured reason of a mentally ill, furious, haemorrhaging Swamp-Wolf.

He just looked at me like he was worried about me, like he pitied me. Well, fuck you, Pinko. I'll pick on your mellowed out bongo brother instead. I turned to his friend and realised that I had to show mature authority over these two wild hipsters that are headed straight for Juvie. For some reason what came out of my mouth was this: "Give me your shoe".

That's when I seemingly sobered up. I felt embarrassed. I reminded them that smoking on trains was illegal not to mention rude. They apologised again and I returned to my seat and tried to hide in my coat.

What a fucking wanker.

Hopefully those two kids will just assume they had too much psychedelic trip tobaccy and were just hallucinating that they saw the world's most embarrassing old man on a train. Maybe that's what will finally get them off that stuff, eh?

Yes. I'm really a very good citizen.


Anonymous said...

HA. Fucking brilliant. I would have beat them to death with the shoes. Bet they were middle-class wankers too.

Roiben said...

This had me giggling.

It also made me wish we still had windows that could be opened on the trains I use. Since the train I take to work cuts its way through a fair chunk of Essex before reaching London, I have seen a fair number of people drinking, smoking (both kinds) and other such things without a hope of finding the trains guard or, otherwise, dispelling such foul object out of a window.

It is sad though, that they did not have the brains to move further than a few seats away from you.. makes you wonder how many they had already had.

Ron Moore said...

that truly a bad thing to do... Youths should undergo drug test like using elisakits. This is for their own sake.