Tuesday, 12 April 2011

And When They Shag, They Think Of Me.

You know, when you start off with a little comedy project the most you can hope for is that one or two people might be entertained by it. I've yet to hit those heady heights but sometimes something almost as good happens. I've had a few people tell me that they've stopped eating meat after reading my anti-carnivore rant and that makes me feels great. Equally, I had a few people call me a cunt for not warning them enough about Mrs. Brown's Boys. I suppose saying it was the worst thing on TV just wasn't enough of a warning. I blame myself. Luckily, just yesterday, something beautiful happened.

James Hingley and I have been recording the Precious Little podcast since September 2008 and we've been lucky enough to gather a small but loyal following that we lovingly call Podophiles. It's a podcast where two grown men talk about nothing in particular for an hour, sometimes we manage to stretch fuck all out for even longer. Somehow, these bewildered, lost, even hideous people actually enjoy the nothing that James and I have to say even going so far as to set up listening parties on Twitter and making t-shirts and badges with "I'm a pair of bastards" and "WHAT'S WROOOOOONNNGG???" written on them. These are phrases from the podcast, not just bollocks they've made up themselves. That's how bewildered, lost, even hideous these people really are. They couldn't even think of that themselves. But they are OUR bewildered, lost, even hideous people and we love them. Well, James doesn't but I do. So, imagine my delight when I found out yesterday that two of these shadowy, bent, half-people are getting married. It's the FUCK YOU to Wills and Kate I've been longing to hear.

Last year, a podophile called Barry lost a competition that I held on Precious Little. The prize for losing the competition was two tickets to see me and Andrew Collins. Stupidly, Barry accepted the tickets and PAID MONEY to come all the way down from Manchester to London to watch our equivalent of entertainment. The fucking idiot even PAID MONEY to stay in a hotel that night. In other words, he PAID about £150 to get a ticket worth £8 to see two men who had yet to write their Edinburgh Fringe shows (mine remains unwritten to date). This is the kind of man that listens to Precious Little. He actually won two tickets but couldn't even give the other one away, such is my fame. But after spending money, time and patience on me and Andrew, it was here that Barry met Sarah.

Sarah, equally as disturbed as Barry, had come from some God forsaken cave-hole in Scotland to see the show. She had PAID for her ticket as well as her travel. She had travelled twice as far as Barry, PAID MORE for travel and PAID FOR A TICKET plus she lived in the middle of fuck-not-nowhere. Barry was never going to do any better than this. It was love at first sight.

I have met Sarah and Barry and I am delighted that they are together. I guess that thought just makes me happy: They met via me and because of me two people are much happier than they would have been. Not Barry and Sarah, of course, I mean the two people they might have met if Barry and Sarah hadn't met at my gig. Oh, yes. There are two very lucky people out there living their lives and going about their business blissfully unaware that I have saved them from living with a podophile and having to spend an eternity hearing catchphrases that no-one else gets. Those are two very lucky people.

And, I suppose if I have to, congratulations to Sarah and Barry. Please name your first pet after me. Now, to pair up the rest of them before any normal people find them...


ps Kindle owners might like to know that my blog is know available to subscribe and read on your Kindle here: http://amzn.to/ho4Qr3


@alnapp said...

podophilephiles the pair of 'em

@GardenerMellors said...

I bags Misha and Wet Sarah!