Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Before The Fringe

What’s the point in going to the Edinburgh Festival? A massive competition where every participant must pay thousands of pounds for the grand prize of the off chance that Kate Copstick call you a cunt in print. If you even dream of getting anything more than that from the Edinburgh Fringe you’re an incredible idiot. You spend all day trying to weave in and out of street entertainers (when will the PC Brigade let us go back to calling them tramps?) and 8 year olds excitedly handing out flyers only to bump into a comedian who will tell you they saw that bad review you got in Festered, the student website that thinks everything that isn’t Daniel Sloss is old, boring and confusing. Then you have to listen to that same idiot comedian who will go on and on and on about how they’re being ripped off despite selling out every gig, every night for the last four years and yet they still go back to the money-grabbing, soul-destroying evil of the Big Three venues. Is there still a Big Three in Edinburgh? Didn’t one of them die? But, hey, don’t let me put you off going. There’s over a million shows to see, some of them free, and it’s always worth checking out some unknown, unheard of show that no one else has discovered yet. What I’m saying is, please come to my show. I need the money.

Look, it’s fun being there as a punter. The cheapest B&B in Edinburgh is a £150 a night cupboard in Newcastle, then you can pay £10.50 to sit through an hour of over-rehearsed and under-written sketches by Gilsby & Prick, a double act who met while hitchhiking up to the festival, in a venue that is basically a crypt that will drip condensation on you constantly. Don’t get any in your eye though. That’s how 28 Days Later started. And why not travel to the Edinburgh Festival in style too? I’m already up in Scotland and can heartily recommend taking the Caledonian Sleeper train. It leaves Euston at 11.50pm and comes complete with a wet pallet and a grey, sticky pillow to lie wide awake on for the 8 hour journey ahead. If you’re lucky you’ll get a berth all to yourself. If you’re unlucky you’ll end up sharing it with a man who constantly sings no matter how many times you remind him that you can hear him. Guess which one I was. Either way, the train gets you into Edinburgh in time for you to burst into tears.

There’s a reason I’m saying all this and I regret not saying it sooner. You don’t really NEED to go to the Edinburgh Festival (you can just buy a ticket to my show, I’m not going to pressure you into actually turning up) because there are still preview shows going on this week. I only found out that I was doing the festival about five weeks ago so could only get about seven previews in, which is about a quarter of the amount most people seem to do, but these were the most fun gigs I’ve done in years. When you go to Edinburgh in August you will see the finished version of a comedian’s show and it will be slick, precise and professional. Well, not mine but pretty much everyone else’s. I mean, really. What is the point in watching something of quality? I want to see it rough around the edges, experimental and desperate. If I don’t see a comedian cry into a puddle of his own urine by the end then IT IS NOT A SHOW. I want to hear the umms and errs of a never-before-performed routine. I want the excitement of getting it right, the disappointment of getting it wrong and the silences, oh ladies and gentlemen, those loooooong silences until the embarrassed cough of the punchline. I genuinely love previews.

Over the last few weeks I’ve seen Rich Fulcher, Bennett Arron, Bridget Christie, Caroline Mabey and Thom Tuck trying out brand new stuff in front of audiences and it’s been just fantastic. I know their finished shows will be great but there’s just something about seeing it when even the performer themselves isn’t really quite sure what comes next that makes it utterly exciting. I’ve seen Robin Ince preview too but, as his finished show will still be him basically arguing with himself every night, that doesn’t count. And my own previews have been a joy, maybe not for the audience but definitely for me. Even the shit one at The Albany where I forgot every single thing in front of an audience of 7 friends and 2 other people was fun really. Previews should really be the finished show. We should all preview throughout June and July for the Edinburgh Festival and then not go because it doesn’t exist. Even the actual month of August was just a dream.

There are still previews going on so don’t make the mistake of not seeing them. Here’s some I really recommend you see:


Bridget Christie at The Fix in Camden
Richard Herring in Colchester
Sara Pascoe at the New Wimbledon Theatre
Lewis Schaffer at The Source Below in Soho, London
Carey Marx at East Meets Jest in Clapham
Edward Aczel at Comedy Bunker in Ruislip

Thursday 28th

Richard Herring in Cardiff
Tiffany Stevenson at The Top Secret Comedy Club in Covent Garden
Jigsaw featuring Dan Antopolski, Nat Luurtseema and Tom Craine at The Junction in Cambridge
Kerry Godliman & Paul Sinha at Tara Studio in Earlsfield
Lloyd Langford at Hampstead Comedy Club

Friday 29th

Caroline Mabey and Holly Walsh at The Black Sheep in Crystal Palace
Tiffany Stevenson at Abbey Fest in Wimbledon
Jigsaw featuring Dan Antopolski, Nat Luurtsema and Tom Craine at Colchester Arts Centre
Richard Herring in Cardiff
Stephen Carlin at Hampstead Comedy Club

Sunday 31st

Richard Herring in Newcastle
Bennett Arron in Balham

Oh, look. There’s just loads. I gave up looking but you shouldn’t. And they’re not all in London either so check what’s happening in an arts centre or sticky, smelly room above a pub near you. BUT DON’T MISS OUT ON SEEING THESE SHOWS NOW. Remember, in a week we’ll have lost all of these wonderful, unpredictable and funny previews to expertise. It’s a great shame.

Also, thanks very much to everyone who came to see the Curse Sir Walter Raleigh previews. I had so much fun. Special thanks to the people who came to and performed at The Phoenix shows throughout July, in particular Neal who came to all of them. I very grateful indeed. I hope to see you in Scotland.

Tickets for CURSE SIR WALTER RALEIGH at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Tickets for POINTLESS ANGER, RIGHTEOUS IRE 2: BACK IN THE HABIT at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Kindle owners might like to know that my blog is now available to subscribe and read on your Kindle here:

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

Custard Piety.

I hate comedians. Joyless, po-faced, unfunny and incredibly thick. Did you see them on Twitter yesterday afternoon? Every one of them was glued to their TV's so they could come up with more ways of pointing and laughing at an 80 year old man. A poor, defenceless, frail old evil tyrant was mocked by young, cutting edge comedians in their 40s. These people, some of whom have written stuff for The Now Show, saw a delicate octogenarian and they ridiculed him in public. And it was brilliant. Being on Twitter yesterday was a joy. There was no way that you could have kept up with the jokes because there was a constant barrage of them. And it started brilliantly. When Rupert Murdoch interrupted his son to say "This is the most humble day of my life", Twitter practically popped the cork on it's #bottleofchampagne and the party started. It was great, gripping TV and it was a pleasure sharing it with funny people. Then a comedian ruined everything.

Some attention seeking openspot who will remain nameless - and by that I mean he got his biggest spot of global telly exposure ever and I've forgotten his name already - ran up to Rupert Murdoch and threw a custard pie in his face. That was when the comedians of Twitter all stopped laughing. Because someone had made a joke.

Apparently, this had ruined the whole legal process of bringing the Murdochs to justice which confused me because I could have sworn it was just REALLY, REALLY FUNNY. It's Rupert Murdoch getting A CUSTARD PIE IN THE FACE. That is brilliant. It was over two hours into the hearing and we were bored and a man came along and made it interesting again. We'd had two hours of "I don't know", "I don't know" and "I don't know but I will check" and a clown PIED RUPERT MURDOCH IN THE FACE. Even better, Murdoch's wife got up and punched the comedian. Say what you like about Rupert, he's got great taste in women. I'd fall in love with anyone who would punch a comedian on live television. It's what comedians are for. But the comedians on Twitter should genuinely feel ashamed of themselves. They all got so tediously righteous from that moment on that it made me sick. "He has ruined this trial". No, he didn't. "He is making a mockery of justice". Erm, I don't think it was him that did that. "How could anyone attack an 80 year old man like that?" IT'S MURDOCH.

Has the custard pie really overshadowed the main story? Not in the slightest. Has it made this comedian famous? No and if Graham Linehan would kindly shut up about him it never will. Being so utterly pious is the least attractive trait of anyone but when a comedian gets pompous it's just pathetic. Have they forgotten what they do for a living? The pie in the face is a classic gag and it was good to see it back on TV, also it's good to see a comedian on TV targeting someone in a position of power and not just making jokes about blind children. I mean, it's not as if Rupert Murdoch was on the ropes, was it? Was he about to break down and confess? A man threw a pie and the comedy world turned into Bono.

I dunno. Maybe it's me. I just find authority figures being embarrassed really funny. Newspaper magnates, high court judges, civil servants. Last night I was enjoying a beer outside a pub near where the Hackgate Enquiry was going on. There must have been 20 civil servants standing outside drinking and being all civilly servanty. Then a sewage worker came along and lifted up a manhole cover. 30 seconds later, the civil servants got hit by a stream of shit and piss. Comedians would never have found that funny. Bloody comedians.

Remember: Only a comedian would be a contestant on Show Me The Funny. Only a comedian would have "Star of Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow" on their poster. Only a comedian would write, produce, direct and star in Mrs. Brown's Boys. They are NOT to be trusted.

Tickets for CURSE SIR WALTER RALEIGH at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Tickets for POINTLESS ANGER, RIGHTEOUS IRE 2: BACK IN THE HABIT at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Kindle owners might like to know that my blog is now available to subscribe and read on your Kindle here:

Saturday, 16 July 2011

What The Hell Are You Looking At?

The film Bridesmaids is getting a lot of good press and several of my friends have recommended I see it. I very well might go to see it but I can't yet because I haven't seen Lawrence of Arabia and I really do think that if you want to truly enjoy Bridesmaids you really have to have seen Lawrence of Arabia first otherwise you'll just be sitting there thinking WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND CHOOSES BRIDESMAIDS OVER LAWRENCE OF ARABIA? I'm not saying Bridesmaids is bad, I'm just saying that Lawrence of Arabia is better. That said, I've seen neither film. That is the problem.

Yesterday I saw the best film I've seen in years. It's called Brazil and it came out in 1985. I was well aware of it when it came out and I know how lauded, celebrated and loved that film is but for some reason it took me more than 25 years to get round to seeing it. It is inventive, funny, creepy, horrible, bleak and it's immediately in my top ten films of all time. It has no CGI in it, it has a story and it has an incredible cast: Nigel Planer, Gordon Kaye, Robert De Niro. Don't those three names alone make is sound the most exciting thing you've ever heard even 25 years later? 25 years. 25 sodding years. That's how long it took me to see this masterpiece that I knew was there all along. Put it this way, I saw Teen Wolf 2 the day it came out.

I haven't seen Lawrence of Arabia, Blood Simple, Once Upon A Time In The West, The Battleship Potemkin, The Purple Rose of Cairo, On The Waterfront, Being There, Witchfinder General, Metropolis, Biutiful or any Bergman films. I've not seen one single Ingmar Bergman film so how can the producers of The Hangover expect me to watch The Hangover 2? I haven't even seen The Hangover and I have no intention of seeing it until I've seen City of God. How the fuck could I let myself see Sex Lives of The Potato Men knowing fully well I've not yet seen Chinatown? I've spent money and time watching The Green Lantern, Inception (shut up, it's crap. You know it is), Jersey Girl, Spider-Man 3 and Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigalo. Guess how many times I've seen The Phantom Menace? ABOUT 18 TIMES. To be fair, it's a film that never gets worse.

All I'm saying is that film companies should really consider and protect the viewer when it comes to releasing a new film. How many people my age used to sneak into X's when they were young? That's right. EVERYONE MY AGE DID IT. So I'm sure it's the same these days with films rated 18. Any kid that wants to see any film will see it if they want to so the certification of films in that way doesn't work. Here's my new way: "Want to see a film? Fine, have you seen Amadeus? No. Then I'm afraid you really can't see Bad Teacher. Come back when you've seen more good films. Good day to you". Is that so wrong? Of course, I'm joking. Nothing that simple could work effectively. How about after every film you see you get a mandatory tattoo of the name of the film on your arm or leg or neck? Then me and the other Cinema Police will know you're not a liar. Another problem sorted out by Legge. You're welcome, world.

It hit me hard right after seeing Brazil that me wasting my time was nothing but a waste of time. I should be writing my Edinburgh show but instead I watched a film. Luckily that film is one of the greatest 2 hours 15 minutes I've ever spent. I just think, if you're wasting your time anyway why waste it not being completely amazed? And stop watching The Apprentice. Have you seen every episode of Arrested Development? No? THEN STOP WATCHING THE APPRENTICE.

Tickets for CURSE SIR WALTER RALEIGH at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Tickets for POINTLESS ANGER, RIGHTEOUS IRE 2: BACK IN THE HABIT at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Kindle owners might like to know that my blog is now available to subscribe and read on your Kindle here:

Tuesday, 12 July 2011

You've Got Me.

I've realised that I have something in common with the man on the train who picked his nose and wiped it on his seat last week. He's only trying to leave his mark on the world. He only wants to leave something behind so we remember him after he's gone. I was wrong to have told him off because he and I are exactly the same. We just want to give a little bit of ourselves to the world.

A couple of weeks ago I went to the National Theatre to see "An Audience With James Corden". That's not normally the kind of thing I'd go to see but a bastard I know bought me a ticket to see it alone. This is becoming a habit with bastards I know. Unfortunately, this time it backfired. I really enjoyed James Corden. He was self-deprecating, embarrassed and gracious. I know! I was surprised too. He talked about his theatre work, Gavin and Stacey and about how he doesn't really know what he's doing. He also spent the last 15 minutes talking about how he spent a long time being an idiot. He became famous and his ego went on the rampage. I think I needed to hear that. It reminded me of something Bill Murray said: "The truth is, anybody that becomes famous is an ass for a year and a half. You've got to give them a year and a half, two years. They are getting so much smoke blown, and their whole world gets so turned upside down, their responses become distorted. I give everybody a year or two to pull it together because, when it first happens, I know how it is". To be honest with you, at the end of the talk with Corden I actually liked him. I know he's a good actor and that was always my problem with him. He's really good, why is he doing all this other shit? Why is his ego allowed to do what ever it wants? But he realises that and I love him now. I love James Corden. That's something we'll all have to get used to. Me loving someone. I also realised that during the whole thing I'd been scratching my leg. My leg with psoriasis all up it. I looked down on the ground and saw thousands and thousands of little bits of me just lying there in a pile. A generous helping of Legge Flakes just lying there for someone to come along and sit amongst. I'm disgusting. But, as I was trying to clear it up (there's no way I could have cleared it all up. There was too much of it and some it needed a hoover), I got to thinking: I'm everywhere.

The chances of you sitting next to me right this second are much greater than you'd think. You very well might be sitting next to me, standing on me or eating off me (I have psoriasis on my elbows too and I put my elbows on the table despite etiquette's clear standards). I bet you can't walk 10 feet in London without touching me these days and has anyone not been on a train without bits of me all around them? What I'm saying is, you are never alone. Chances are I'm right there with you. People often say that they suffer from psoriasis but I don't suffer from it. I just have it. If you ever leave your house ever, then you might suffer from my psoriasis but that's just me trying to share a little bit of myself with you. It's a beautiful thing. A beautiful bonding of people whether they like it or not. I'm thinking of getting a tattoo so that when I flake it'll come out like a beautiful dusty rainbow. You're welcome.

Tickets for CURSE SIR WALTER RALEIGH at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Tickets for POINTLESS ANGER, RIGHTEOUS IRE 2: BACK IN THE HABIT at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Kindle owners might like to know that my blog is now available to subscribe and read on your Kindle here:

Friday, 8 July 2011


I feel like I'm really returning to my old self again this week. My old, horrible, grumpy, rude self. I'll be very honest with you, all that scares me. But it is completely your fault.

Not all of it, just most of it. Firstly, last week when I was on my way to a preview gig I saw a man on the train purposely drop his ticket receipt on the ground. I quietly screamed inside my own head until the train arrived when I turned to the man and said "Oh, look. You've dropped your ticket". He turned round to pick up his dropped ticket but then saw it was just the receipt. You know, the receipt that he didn't want anymore. The one he just threw on the ground for someone else to pick up. He started to get on the train so I repeated "You've dropped your ticket". "No", he said. "It's just the receipt". I asked him if he thought that was OK to just throw it on the ground and he grunted like he didn't understand the question. "Are you going to pick it up?" I asked. He looked angry now. "NO".

He took his seat and I sat beside him. Within seconds he had his finger and his thumb, HIS THUMB, up his nostrils having a good old pick. Right up there with his finger and thumb giving his entire head a good thorough clear out, by the looks of things. Before I could tell him how revolting he was, he wiped his finger and thumb on the side of his seat.

"NO FUCKING WAY", I said. "God, man, what age are you? You're in your 30's and you pick your nose in public and wipe it on the seats?"

He went bright red, got up and changed carriage. A victory? No. The next stop a massive man who looked insane came on and sat next to me listening to his loud, awful music. He looked scary. I said nothing. Bring back Noseypick!

Then on my way to my next preview, I got off the tube during rush hour. The doors opened and a very big man just immediately got on without letting any passengers off first. The insane part of my skull immediately took over and I put my hand flat on his chest and pushed him back on to the platform, all the while shouting "RUUUUUUUUUUUDE!"

OK, those two examples weren't really your fault but the next one definitely is. Yesterday I took a bus to Stella Duffy's house to do some work on my solo Edinburgh show. I got the P4 bus and as soon as I sat down I heard the loud, awful music. I've said it before but, really, why is it only people with terrible taste in music that feel the need to share it on public transport? I sat there for three or four minutes just staring at YOU and all YOU did was just accept this rude woman polluting our journey with her musical dung. It was as if no one else could hear the moronic and repetitive beat coming from her iPod or, and this is just a guess, I was once again on public transport with spineless shadow people who are too terrified to just ask a woman to turn her music down. It's not like this woman was the man who replaced Noseypick. That man was weird and I wouldn't have encouraged anyone to approach him. This was just a regular person.

I thought.

She was two seats in front so I got up and tapped her on the shoulder. Here's what happened. She took her earphones out and I said "Excuse me, could you turn your music down, please?"


"Because it's very loud. Everyone can hear it".

"Yeah, that's your problem."

I was confused and said "Noooo, it's too loud and everyone can hear it so can you turn it down, please?"

"It's my earphones".


"I'm using earphones".

"Yes, but the volume is so loud that everyone else can hear".

"Yeah, that's your problem. It's not like I'm listening to it out loud, I've put earphones in."

"But you are playing it out loud. It's up so loud that everyone can hear it."

"Yeah, that's your problem.

This went on for a very long time. Round and round with her always saying the same thing "Yeah, that's your problem". But let's skip to the end. This is how it all finished.

"That's the thing", I said. "It's not my problem. It's definitely your problem. Why are you listening to your music so loudly?"

This utterly baffled her. Genuinely her eyes raised upwards so much it was like she was trying to read what her brain was thinking. She had no answer, so I helped. "It's so you can hear it, right?"


"Right. And that's why it's your problem. If you had your music turned down a bit then you could listen to it but instead you've turned it up so loudly that all you have is me talking to you and stopping you hearing anything but me". And this is when the insane "Give me your shoe" version of me took over. I started tapping her shoulder repeatedly while smiling and saying "Annoying isn't it? Isn't it? It's annoying. It's very annoying. Isn't that annoying? That's what hearing your music is like".

She was too thick to get anything that I was saying plus I was going mad so I sat down. Gradually, slowly, bit by bit she turned her music down until I couldn't hear it. WHY DIDN'T SHE JUST DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING TO HER? WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE ME? WHY CAN'T YOU DO IT FOR A FUCKING CHANGE? WHY DIDN'T YOU EVEN SUPPORT ME WHILE I WAS DOING IT? I. HATE. YOU.

Look, you really are going to have to pull your socks up. I'm writing a show about being polite and I'm turning into my insanely rude self again. If you love me then you'll ask those dicks to turn their music down first before I start frothing and flinging my madness at them. Please, I'm asking you as a friend, help me.

Tickets for CURSE SIR WALTER RALEIGH at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Tickets for POINTLESS ANGER, RIGHTEOUS IRE 2: BACK IN THE HABIT at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Kindle owners might like to know that my blog is now available to subscribe and read on your Kindle here:

Saturday, 2 July 2011

John Heartfield.

This is a lazy blog. I'm embarrassed to say that I have never heard of the brilliant artist John Heartfield. You probably have and therefore I'm just telling you stuff you already know but I'm excited about discovering him and excited about learning more about him.

John Heartfield was a German anti-fascist communist artist hell-bent on undermining Adolf Hitler. His photomontages, especially the ones used as covers for AIZ magazine, are just stunning especially considering when he was making them. The Nazi's weren't known for their sense of humour during the 1930's. In 1916, when anti-British sentiment was pretty damn high what with that pesky World War going on, he changed his name from Helmut Herzfeld to the terribly British John Heartfield as an anti-fascist statement. A really, really dangerous anti-fascist statement. I LOVE HIM. If you don't know of his work then check it out. We can learn about him together. If you do know about him, please feel free to educate me.

What I'm saying is, that Tate Modern isn't that bad.

Adolf the Superman.

The Cross.

Goering becomes an AIZ cover star.

Goebbels dressing Hitler as Karl Marx. My favourite one.

Tickets for CURSE SIR WALTER RALEIGH at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Tickets for POINTLESS ANGER, RIGHTEOUS IRE 2: BACK IN THE HABIT at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Kindle owners might like to know that my blog is now available to subscribe and read on your Kindle here:

Friday, 1 July 2011

Curse Sir Walter Raleigh.

I have a question for you. It's about good manners. It's a question that was put to me a few months ago. Basically, I was talking about good manners, and how important they are to me, with Philberto, a comedian who I owed a tenner for months (that is NOT good manners). We were sharing a small dressing room in a gig in Camden. Philberto used the dressing room loo and when he got out he said "I'd leave that 10 minutes before going in if I were you. See? That's good manners". Is it, Philberto? IS IT? No, really, is it?

So, here's the question. What is right? Is it a) Basically turn to someone and say "Just in case you were thinking of going into that tiny room to put your naked arse on the heat left my arse, I just want you to know that I defecated in there and my fecal clumps and splatters made enough aromatic funk to make you choke to death on your own vomit the second that you walk in" or is it b) Say nothing because talking about plops is unpleasant and, if the other person has any manners at all, when they enter the toilet they should realise that we all sometimes make smells and just live with it and get over it?

Let me know what you think the correct answer is. You see, I'm trying to write an Edinburgh show about manners and it seems that people have very different views about what is acceptable. Some people hold doors open for other people, other people don't. Some people keep noise to a minimum on public transport, other people don't. Some people put their rubbish in the bin, other people throw the bin into the street after wanking and wanking and wanking in it. What I'm saying is, some people just don't know they're being rude. Maybe I'm rude all the time and have no idea about it? Here's a good example: I was getting a train from Ladywell the other day and decided I fancied a Diet Coke. I went to the train station shop but a woman ran right past me and got there first. Bit rude that she pushed in front but, as you know, I am very forgiving. She wanted a drink and a snack. Both items came to about £2. Luckily, the woman had more than enough money to cover it. In fact, she had a £20 note. I know this because I saw her take it out of her bra.

Now, it was a hot day, that just adds to the EURGH of what just happened, but even if it wasn't I'm not sure I would accept someone offering me a £20 note from their underwear. The man in the shop certainly didn't want it. He just looked at the Breast Money and said "Oh. I don't have any change. Sorry. Do you have anything smaller?" DON'T ASK HER THAT!!! No one wants to know where she keeps her change. Luckily for the shopkeeper the £20 note was all the lady had. Unluckily for me she was a very confident person. Of course she was confident. Only seconds ago she reached into her bra and whipped out a sweaty £20 note. It was with this confidence that she turned to me and asked "You wouldn't have two tenners or a 10 and two 5's for this?"

I had nothing for that. All of a sudden it looked like a Mexican stand-off. The woman pointed the £20 note at me like a gun, the shopkeeper looked nervous and you could tell he wanted to shut the old, bullet-hole riddled, wooden shutters of his shop while I stood there considering my move. I could have just taken the money and changed it but (spits tobacco) I'm not a coward. The tension mounted. Old women ushered their grandchildren back indoors, a lone beautiful woman stared then made the sign of the cross and the local sheriff pretended he hadn't seen a thing. You could have cut the air with a knife.

"It was in your tits".

That's all I could think of saying. There was no flipping way I was touching sweaty Breast Money and it was SO obvious that the shopkeeper had lied about not having change and the atmosphere was all nasty and...and..and something just had to give. I said "It was in your tits" and it turned out that being rude about someone being rude was the best thing that could have happened. All three of us laughed. I'd said tits in front of two people I don't know, it was odd and we laughed. And neither me nor the shopkeeper had to deal with Breast Money. The shop next door did, though.

See, I'd like to know if you've been rude to be polite. It's my new thing. I've read my book out loud on trains to other people reading their bible (see my last blog) because I thought they MUST be interested, I've asked people what that song is that they're playing so incredibly loudly in public and raved about it so much that they couldn't listen to it, I've offered my seat on a train to an incredibly homophobic young man and my simple act of kindness made him feel molested. All good, I think. But let me know if you've ever been rude in the name of good. I'm writing Curse Sir Walter Raleigh, my show about good manners that will be performed at this year's Edinburgh Festival, and I want a bit of the show to be banter between me and the audience about how we can rise up and be rude in the name of good. If you're planning on going to the Edinburgh Festival, you can get tickets here:

The thing is, I may not always know if I'm being rude or not but I definitely know that when a chance to be rude comes along it doesn't mean you have to take it. You don't HAVE to be rude. Yesterday, I met a woman called Semen and I didn't even giggle. Now, that's good manners.

Tickets for CURSE SIR WALTER RALEIGH at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Tickets for POINTLESS ANGER, RIGHTEOUS IRE 2: BACK IN THE HABIT at this year's Edinburgh Fringe are now on sale here:

Kindle owners might like to know that my blog is now available to subscribe and read on your Kindle here: