Gigs are continuing to cheer me up. That will stop soon, obviously, but for now I'm really enjoying it.
Last night I played in a gig called the Hellfire Club in High Wycombe. The last time I was there was in 1996 as a punter. I saw Adam Bloom. That's all I can remember but last night's gig will hopefully stay in my head a bit longer. Firstly, the club looks great. It has a great big wacky comedy devil at the back of the stage and there are bits of triangular cloth being fanned and lit up to look like fire everywhere. Hell is just the right atmosphere for a night of comedy, I feel. I think what I liked most about the club was their choice of music before the show.
Comedy clubs have terrible taste in music. It's always the same crappy wedding-disco music at pretty much every club in the UK so it was nice to be somewhere where they felt confident to play Iron Maiden track after Iron Maiden Track after Iron Maiden track. Lovely. Especially when a man walked in with his very young family. Bring Your Daughter (To The Slaughter) played while the man cheerily sat his 12 year old daughter at their table. How apt, I thunk.
Luckily the gig was far from hellish. It was really, really, really nice. It was a big room that demanded focus for the first few minutes but after that they seemed to give me pretty much free reign to do whatever I wanted. That was nice of them. I even tried out my ever failing "Newcastle" bit and it did very well. I will, of course, continue to swear blind that I will NEVER perform that piece again. Not a completely perfect, storming gig but an utterly enjoyable one. I'd love to play it again one day.
Not only did I enjoy myself but I had the chance to ruin someone's career also. That's always the mark of a great night out. A couple of drinks, a few laughs, fuck up someone's life. Especially when it's someone who's not even there.
The compere, Mike Wilkinson, decided that I was actually Michael Smiley. As he said "We've got Michael Smiley opening the show tonight" I burst out laughing. Partly because he got it wrong and partly because I was thinking how disappointed the audience are going to be. He said Michael Smiley's name twice again before finally introducing "Michael Smiley" on to the stage. I looked around and assumed that Mike had meant me. After all, we Northern Irish comedians all look the fucking same, don't we? I got to the microphone and asked the audience to give it up for our host and compere, Mike Belgrave, and started the gig. It was then that I realised that I could really fuck this gig up and maybe get away with it. Tonight, Matthew, I am Michael Smiley and if they never book Michael Smiley again then that will not really affect my career, just his. And news of stinker gigs spread quick in this business. I just have to fuck this up so perfectly and in days, hours....MINUTES the word will be out that Michael Smiley is fucking awful and no-one will book him ever again and he will die alone (I plan to woo his wife also, did I mention that?) and remembered only as that man who opened a gig saying that he thought Nick Griffin was "well fit" and then started throwing his excrement at the audience while screaming "CUUUUUUUNT!" repeatedly.
As it turns out, I just did my set.
So, if Michael Smiley never gets booked again then it's my fault and I'm really sorry. I promise NEVER to do the "Newcastle" bit ever again.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
Friday, 30 October 2009
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Bagging Victory.
I'm feeling quite smugly happy at the moment. After all the worry about me being thick I certainly got cheered up from the feedback I received from my two wasps fucking blog. Some people liked it and that made me very happy indeed but what really put a spring in my step is that not one single person has let me know how wasps mate. I am not alone! No-one in the entire world knows how wasps make wasps and, seemingly, not that many people even care how they do it.
Thank the Lord that everyone is happy being thick and I can hold my head high and say "DUH!" with pride. Ignorance is bliss, I've learned. Well, sometimes anyway. Last night as I was on my way to perform at London Comedy Improv I saw a massive arse drop the cardboard packaging that his sandwich came in and an empty plastic bottle that once contained juice. He did it on purpose. Not because he is evil and just feels like littering but because he is so monumentally thick that he doesn't know that throwing crap on the ground makes litter and litter is bad. He is just like you are with the wasps fucking thing but infinitely more anti-social.
As his rubbish hit the ground I imagined him being hit by a lovely old steam locomotive or being raped by a thousand piss-drenched robo-skeletons that fired their poisonous lazer-cum directly into his exploding heart. It just helped me come to terms with his horrible lack of social skills. Luckily there are about 12 utterly beautiful people in this world and last night I saw 1 of them. A dark haired woman in her 30's saw the stupid man drop his litter and went over and picked it up. I thought what she had done was at least a very nice gesture that, although taught the idiot nothing, meant that there was slightly less rubbish on the ground. She picked it up and, I assumed, was on her way to put it in the bin.
I was wrong.
She walked behind the man and with incredible skill (she was laughing as she did it so it can't have been easy) carefully placed both items of rubbish in the idiots open backpack. The bottle went in easy but the sandwich pack took a bit of an extra effort and when it was securely in the bag she turned to her friends and jumped up in the air in utter triumph. Some people who saw the beautiful even applauded. I was one. It's days like this that make you feel that living is very nearly worth it.
Of course, it isn't. I embarrassed myself greatly at London Comedy Improv. After angrily correcting Tara Flynn ridiculous mistake of Alfred the butler referring to Bruce Wayne as "Mister Wayne" and not "Master Bruce" I then openly and clearly said that the name of the first Doctor was William Troughton. I should be shot dead.
I could barely get out of bed this morning after making the greatest blunder of all time. OK, I hadn't killed a baboon but I completely let myself down. I felt so bad that I wrote PAEDO on my head and walked around Lewisham shopping centre waiting to get beaten to a pulp. Sadly nearly everyone I saw had named the first Doctor as William Troughton also by the looks of things.
Thanks, human race. I'll never be thick and alone ever.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
Thank the Lord that everyone is happy being thick and I can hold my head high and say "DUH!" with pride. Ignorance is bliss, I've learned. Well, sometimes anyway. Last night as I was on my way to perform at London Comedy Improv I saw a massive arse drop the cardboard packaging that his sandwich came in and an empty plastic bottle that once contained juice. He did it on purpose. Not because he is evil and just feels like littering but because he is so monumentally thick that he doesn't know that throwing crap on the ground makes litter and litter is bad. He is just like you are with the wasps fucking thing but infinitely more anti-social.
As his rubbish hit the ground I imagined him being hit by a lovely old steam locomotive or being raped by a thousand piss-drenched robo-skeletons that fired their poisonous lazer-cum directly into his exploding heart. It just helped me come to terms with his horrible lack of social skills. Luckily there are about 12 utterly beautiful people in this world and last night I saw 1 of them. A dark haired woman in her 30's saw the stupid man drop his litter and went over and picked it up. I thought what she had done was at least a very nice gesture that, although taught the idiot nothing, meant that there was slightly less rubbish on the ground. She picked it up and, I assumed, was on her way to put it in the bin.
I was wrong.
She walked behind the man and with incredible skill (she was laughing as she did it so it can't have been easy) carefully placed both items of rubbish in the idiots open backpack. The bottle went in easy but the sandwich pack took a bit of an extra effort and when it was securely in the bag she turned to her friends and jumped up in the air in utter triumph. Some people who saw the beautiful even applauded. I was one. It's days like this that make you feel that living is very nearly worth it.
Of course, it isn't. I embarrassed myself greatly at London Comedy Improv. After angrily correcting Tara Flynn ridiculous mistake of Alfred the butler referring to Bruce Wayne as "Mister Wayne" and not "Master Bruce" I then openly and clearly said that the name of the first Doctor was William Troughton. I should be shot dead.
I could barely get out of bed this morning after making the greatest blunder of all time. OK, I hadn't killed a baboon but I completely let myself down. I felt so bad that I wrote PAEDO on my head and walked around Lewisham shopping centre waiting to get beaten to a pulp. Sadly nearly everyone I saw had named the first Doctor as William Troughton also by the looks of things.
Thanks, human race. I'll never be thick and alone ever.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
AA is Not a Very Nice Man.
Well, brilliant. I've turned into one of those awful balls of embarrassment who get morally outraged by something they see in the news. I feel an idiot but luckily we've already established that I'm "thick" so I don't even care how embarrassing I come across.
AA Gill, the Times' restaurant critic and cunt, shot and killed a baboon just to see what it would be like. That was his actual excuse for murdering a baboon. "'I wanted to get a sense of what it might be like to kill someone". Christ almighty, what sort of lack of imagination does this cretin suffer from. Strangely, I've never wanted to even consider killing a baboon but I have a good idea of exactly how I'd feel. That's one of the things that stops me from doing it. We call that having empathy. It's one of the better traits that the rest of our species has.
"'I wanted to get a sense of what it might be like to kill someone". What the fuck are you, AA? Some sort of monkey-hating Johnny Cash? I killed a baboon in Tanzania just to watch him die. Not only that but doesn't this cockboil of a man still have to face his family and friends who now know that he has said the words "'I wanted to get a sense of what it might be like to kill someone". I imagine that quite a few people in AA's address book are going to stop returning his calls. You know, except for the one were they call him to say "I don't want to see you ever again because you are a creepy, creepy bastard. Bye".
The baboon was far away from him. Wasn't bothering him. And it certainly had no way to defend itself against a deranged psychopath with a gun who then described it's murder as "naughty fun". I don't know about you, but I'm really not in AA Gill's gang. He doesn't sound like one of us. At all.
He's a food critic, of course, so I'm sure a few evil carnivores (they're all evil, by the way. And, no, Hitler WASN'T a vegetarian, he was a meat eating Christian just like you) might consider that he at least killed the baboon to eat it. No. No, he didn't. I don't know if I told you but he said that the reason that he shot a totally defenceless animal to death was because he "wanted to get a sense of what it might be like to kill someone". He didn't cook it afterwards. He didn't eat it. No-one did. Baboons aren't "tasty" apparently. Stupid undelicious monkeys. That's the irony right there. Killing a baboon is nothing like killing a "someone" as AA Gill wanted. A "someone" could at least try to defend itself, maybe even tackle him and turn the weapon on him, and of course "someone" tastes of chicken. You could at least eat "someone".
What a pointless, half-man he truly is. Killing for no reason for a hobby and telling people whether or not he liked his dinner for a living.
Sometimes it's as if AA didn't actually read my blog yesterday. If only he had seen the beauty of two wasps fucking then maybe he could see that nature is there for us to be in awe of and not to destroy just because we're rich, bored and no-one will fuck us.
I don't like AA Gill. I feel closer to the baboon than a man like him. To be honest, I feel closer to a dung beetle than I do to that....whatever the fuck he is. Jan Moir, you are temporarily off the hook.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
AA Gill, the Times' restaurant critic and cunt, shot and killed a baboon just to see what it would be like. That was his actual excuse for murdering a baboon. "'I wanted to get a sense of what it might be like to kill someone". Christ almighty, what sort of lack of imagination does this cretin suffer from. Strangely, I've never wanted to even consider killing a baboon but I have a good idea of exactly how I'd feel. That's one of the things that stops me from doing it. We call that having empathy. It's one of the better traits that the rest of our species has.
"'I wanted to get a sense of what it might be like to kill someone". What the fuck are you, AA? Some sort of monkey-hating Johnny Cash? I killed a baboon in Tanzania just to watch him die. Not only that but doesn't this cockboil of a man still have to face his family and friends who now know that he has said the words "'I wanted to get a sense of what it might be like to kill someone". I imagine that quite a few people in AA's address book are going to stop returning his calls. You know, except for the one were they call him to say "I don't want to see you ever again because you are a creepy, creepy bastard. Bye".
The baboon was far away from him. Wasn't bothering him. And it certainly had no way to defend itself against a deranged psychopath with a gun who then described it's murder as "naughty fun". I don't know about you, but I'm really not in AA Gill's gang. He doesn't sound like one of us. At all.
He's a food critic, of course, so I'm sure a few evil carnivores (they're all evil, by the way. And, no, Hitler WASN'T a vegetarian, he was a meat eating Christian just like you) might consider that he at least killed the baboon to eat it. No. No, he didn't. I don't know if I told you but he said that the reason that he shot a totally defenceless animal to death was because he "wanted to get a sense of what it might be like to kill someone". He didn't cook it afterwards. He didn't eat it. No-one did. Baboons aren't "tasty" apparently. Stupid undelicious monkeys. That's the irony right there. Killing a baboon is nothing like killing a "someone" as AA Gill wanted. A "someone" could at least try to defend itself, maybe even tackle him and turn the weapon on him, and of course "someone" tastes of chicken. You could at least eat "someone".
What a pointless, half-man he truly is. Killing for no reason for a hobby and telling people whether or not he liked his dinner for a living.
Sometimes it's as if AA didn't actually read my blog yesterday. If only he had seen the beauty of two wasps fucking then maybe he could see that nature is there for us to be in awe of and not to destroy just because we're rich, bored and no-one will fuck us.
I don't like AA Gill. I feel closer to the baboon than a man like him. To be honest, I feel closer to a dung beetle than I do to that....whatever the fuck he is. Jan Moir, you are temporarily off the hook.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
Monday, 26 October 2009
Look and Don't Learn.
I've been plagued by a very trivial problem this last week or so. Last Monday someone referred to me as "thick" and, near the end of last week, I was told that I hadn't much going on in my life. Both hurtful and accurate comments that I shrugged off thinking "Bog off, I've read and vaguely understood Gabriel Garcia Marquez and I listen to The Smiths. That's clever, right? And I'm always busy. Or busy-ish, at the least".
But then the two wasps fucking thing happened.
On Thursday I was walking in the park with Jerk when I noticed two wasps fucking. It isn't every day that you see two wasps fucking and, I think, when you come across it (don't) you should take your time and enjoy it. You know? Stare at it for an hour or so. That's what I did. It was a really odd sight. I never really thought about wasps fucking but I guess they must do.
That's when it hit me that the cruel, cruel comments thrown at me last week were bang on the money. I don't know if wasps actually fuck but I have all the time in the world to just stand there and watch them. I am 41 years old and have no idea how a wasp reproduces. How has that passed me by? We must have learned about it at school, right? It wasn't all lessons about overthrowing England, not all the time. We must have learned about the mating rituals of insects. Shit. Are wasps insects? How do I know that Lando Calrissian lost the Millennium Falcon in a card game to Han Solo but not how wasps have baby wasps? Do they lay eggs? They must lay eggs. I tried looking it up on Wikipedia but got distracted by the band W.A.S.P. best known for their 1984 UK hit single Animal (Fuck Like A Beast) who's b-side was, of course, Show No Mercy. I know that. Oh, yeah. I fucking know that, alright. But what good is that when I'm trying to find out how a wasp exists. Why couldn't it be Animal (Fuck Like A Wasp)? It's as if that angry, shouty, drunk band didn't want to influence me at all.
And yes, I'm well aware that I've been spending too much time thinking about how I might be a bit thick after all. Proving that maybe I don't have as much going on in my life as I thought I had. To be fair, after the third or fourth hour of watching those two stripey exhibitionists bang away I sort of understood that I'd have to maybe find a few more things to do with my days. And, yes, that's how long they went on for. Tantric wasp sex....something about Sting. Look, you make up your own joke OK? I'm very busy.
In reality, I could have looked up all manner of websites and found out more about the wasp but I actually downloaded W.A.S.P.'s Animal (Fuck Like A Beast) instead. Haven't heard it in 20 years. It's terrible.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
But then the two wasps fucking thing happened.
On Thursday I was walking in the park with Jerk when I noticed two wasps fucking. It isn't every day that you see two wasps fucking and, I think, when you come across it (don't) you should take your time and enjoy it. You know? Stare at it for an hour or so. That's what I did. It was a really odd sight. I never really thought about wasps fucking but I guess they must do.
That's when it hit me that the cruel, cruel comments thrown at me last week were bang on the money. I don't know if wasps actually fuck but I have all the time in the world to just stand there and watch them. I am 41 years old and have no idea how a wasp reproduces. How has that passed me by? We must have learned about it at school, right? It wasn't all lessons about overthrowing England, not all the time. We must have learned about the mating rituals of insects. Shit. Are wasps insects? How do I know that Lando Calrissian lost the Millennium Falcon in a card game to Han Solo but not how wasps have baby wasps? Do they lay eggs? They must lay eggs. I tried looking it up on Wikipedia but got distracted by the band W.A.S.P. best known for their 1984 UK hit single Animal (Fuck Like A Beast) who's b-side was, of course, Show No Mercy. I know that. Oh, yeah. I fucking know that, alright. But what good is that when I'm trying to find out how a wasp exists. Why couldn't it be Animal (Fuck Like A Wasp)? It's as if that angry, shouty, drunk band didn't want to influence me at all.
And yes, I'm well aware that I've been spending too much time thinking about how I might be a bit thick after all. Proving that maybe I don't have as much going on in my life as I thought I had. To be fair, after the third or fourth hour of watching those two stripey exhibitionists bang away I sort of understood that I'd have to maybe find a few more things to do with my days. And, yes, that's how long they went on for. Tantric wasp sex....something about Sting. Look, you make up your own joke OK? I'm very busy.
In reality, I could have looked up all manner of websites and found out more about the wasp but I actually downloaded W.A.S.P.'s Animal (Fuck Like A Beast) instead. Haven't heard it in 20 years. It's terrible.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Turn That Frown Upside-Down.
Thankfully some gigs are good enough to drag you out of misery. well, a bit anyway.
I've been so fed up this week due to the fuck-up with the Sheffield Comedy Festival but a couple of great gigs have really cheered me up. The first was the excellent Funny Side of Covent Garden and the second was, believe it or not, the notoriously difficult Jongleurs in Portsmouth. I turned up to both gigs very grumpy and with the feeling of "Fuck them. If they don't like me they can suck the cunt I'm growing" which somehow seemed to work.
Funny Side had a pretty small audience who gave me all the room I wanted to be self-indulgent and, you know, enjoy myself. They seemed to like it too. Jongleurs didn't exactly rock but it was pretty much the same deal as Funny Side. I was given room and the audience went with it. Great fun. Must remember to do that more often, that "fun" thing.
Johnny Candon did a set at the Sheffield gig in place of the King of Everything one and it was nice to hear the audience shout "Fuck You, Michael Legge" down the phone to me from there. Think it's Johnny's endearing way of saying sorry. Bless.
This morning I took the four-hour train ride of misery to Hitchin to record the seventh Precious Little podcast. Every train I got on (there was four of them) got delayed or detoured or both. One just exploded. OK, it didn't but I wanted it to because it quickly became full of cuntingly dull, upsetting and loud football fans. Why anyone would go to watch a football match is baffling enough but why they would even consider spending time in the same building as these people and others like them is brain-fuckingly ridiculous. They kept singing a song very loudly that repeated the lyric "Donna's got a massive cunt" over and over again. What made it all the more charming is that Donna was one of them. I don't know what team they supported but I hope they lost and got shot dead at the end of their stupid game of footsy.
The podcast was....weird. It just hit a brick wall about 3/4 of the way through. Still enjoyed it though. I spend a lot of the time calling James a fruit.
Hmmmm....I'm staying in on a Saturday night. That's weird. Still, lots of work to do on the upcoming Los Quattros Cunts shows (now named Los Quattros Cvnts, very regrettably) on the 17th (with Richard Herring) and 18th (with Rich Fulcher) November at The Phoenix, Cavendish Square. They'll be fun. Don't miss them.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
I've been so fed up this week due to the fuck-up with the Sheffield Comedy Festival but a couple of great gigs have really cheered me up. The first was the excellent Funny Side of Covent Garden and the second was, believe it or not, the notoriously difficult Jongleurs in Portsmouth. I turned up to both gigs very grumpy and with the feeling of "Fuck them. If they don't like me they can suck the cunt I'm growing" which somehow seemed to work.
Funny Side had a pretty small audience who gave me all the room I wanted to be self-indulgent and, you know, enjoy myself. They seemed to like it too. Jongleurs didn't exactly rock but it was pretty much the same deal as Funny Side. I was given room and the audience went with it. Great fun. Must remember to do that more often, that "fun" thing.
Johnny Candon did a set at the Sheffield gig in place of the King of Everything one and it was nice to hear the audience shout "Fuck You, Michael Legge" down the phone to me from there. Think it's Johnny's endearing way of saying sorry. Bless.
This morning I took the four-hour train ride of misery to Hitchin to record the seventh Precious Little podcast. Every train I got on (there was four of them) got delayed or detoured or both. One just exploded. OK, it didn't but I wanted it to because it quickly became full of cuntingly dull, upsetting and loud football fans. Why anyone would go to watch a football match is baffling enough but why they would even consider spending time in the same building as these people and others like them is brain-fuckingly ridiculous. They kept singing a song very loudly that repeated the lyric "Donna's got a massive cunt" over and over again. What made it all the more charming is that Donna was one of them. I don't know what team they supported but I hope they lost and got shot dead at the end of their stupid game of footsy.
The podcast was....weird. It just hit a brick wall about 3/4 of the way through. Still enjoyed it though. I spend a lot of the time calling James a fruit.
Hmmmm....I'm staying in on a Saturday night. That's weird. Still, lots of work to do on the upcoming Los Quattros Cunts shows (now named Los Quattros Cvnts, very regrettably) on the 17th (with Richard Herring) and 18th (with Rich Fulcher) November at The Phoenix, Cavendish Square. They'll be fun. Don't miss them.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
Thursday, 22 October 2009
BNP LOL.
Why the fuck would anyone NOT want the BNP to speak openly on Question Time? It's going to be hilarious. Nick Griffin, the stupid, fat, blinkered, evil cunt, will open his cum-pit of a mouth and spit out his thoughtless thoughts and his father's opinions and we can all have a great laugh at the big idiot man. Not only will we see that he's a massive moron but maybe, just maybe, some of the vegetables that voted for him with their clumsy, spidery "x"'s will have a moment of clarity and see him for what he really is.
It's what TV is made for. Laughing at the mentally ill. You don't mind it when it happens on X-Factor or Britain's Got Talent or Katy Brand's Big Ass Show so you shouldn't be so hypocritical. It's the reason we really wanted Jan Moir to respond to criticisms of her hate-piece in the Daily Mail, we wanted to see how stupid she was going to be while trying to worm her way out of being a ridiculous cunt. "It's all a a heavily orchestrated internet campaign". HILARIOUS!
I'm really looking forward to Question Time tonight. It's going to be very funny and horrible and ridiculous. Anyone who is against an ordinary, everyday fascist appearing in this programme is obviously prejudiced. Which is exactly what the BNP want you to be. By letting him on and laughing at him you have taken a firm stance against bigotry. Well done, you. Actually....just thought....The BBC won't pay this nutjob, will they?
I would write more but Jerk is currently face-first in my crotch. It's hard to rail against all the evils of this world when an animal is basically trying to blow you.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
It's what TV is made for. Laughing at the mentally ill. You don't mind it when it happens on X-Factor or Britain's Got Talent or Katy Brand's Big Ass Show so you shouldn't be so hypocritical. It's the reason we really wanted Jan Moir to respond to criticisms of her hate-piece in the Daily Mail, we wanted to see how stupid she was going to be while trying to worm her way out of being a ridiculous cunt. "It's all a a heavily orchestrated internet campaign". HILARIOUS!
I'm really looking forward to Question Time tonight. It's going to be very funny and horrible and ridiculous. Anyone who is against an ordinary, everyday fascist appearing in this programme is obviously prejudiced. Which is exactly what the BNP want you to be. By letting him on and laughing at him you have taken a firm stance against bigotry. Well done, you. Actually....just thought....The BBC won't pay this nutjob, will they?
I would write more but Jerk is currently face-first in my crotch. It's hard to rail against all the evils of this world when an animal is basically trying to blow you.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Nothing.
I'm really fucked off that we had to cancel the return of King of Everything this Saturday at the Sheffield Comedy Festival. I was really looking forward to it and it's gone balls up due to stupidity. Shame. If you had plans to go, then I'm very sorry (though it wasn't my fault) and I'm very grateful that you bought a ticket. The worse thing is that it was close to selling out thanks to lots of people on Twitter and Facebook buying tickets as well as the SCF being very supportive. It's a small venue but King of Everything aren't used to selling out. It would have been great. Arsebiscuits!
Yesterday's Precious Little podcast was a lot of fun. Despite another religious nutter shouting on the train on my way to Hitchin and me being in a shoutinghellpunch of a mood thanks to the Sheffield Comedy Festival disaster, I really enjoyed it. My favourite part was coming up with the worst joke I have ever heard ever. It is shit. But you can win ownership of it if you enter our competition. That's nice. James and I went for beer afterwards. This is now the third or fourth time we have socialised and are now acting like friends (don't worry, it's only acting). Pretty much every conversation James and I have ever had has been recorded. But now thanks to the few times we've socialised our unrecorded conversations might soon outweigh the recorded ones. I will try my best to make sure that never happens.
Is there a good side to the cancellation of King of Everything this week? NO! But it does mean that my weekend is now completely free. I intend to spend it like you normal people. Might go to see a film or a band or talk the whole way through a comedy show. I'm fed up today. Recommend something for me to do this weekend. Hurry up.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
Yesterday's Precious Little podcast was a lot of fun. Despite another religious nutter shouting on the train on my way to Hitchin and me being in a shoutinghellpunch of a mood thanks to the Sheffield Comedy Festival disaster, I really enjoyed it. My favourite part was coming up with the worst joke I have ever heard ever. It is shit. But you can win ownership of it if you enter our competition. That's nice. James and I went for beer afterwards. This is now the third or fourth time we have socialised and are now acting like friends (don't worry, it's only acting). Pretty much every conversation James and I have ever had has been recorded. But now thanks to the few times we've socialised our unrecorded conversations might soon outweigh the recorded ones. I will try my best to make sure that never happens.
Is there a good side to the cancellation of King of Everything this week? NO! But it does mean that my weekend is now completely free. I intend to spend it like you normal people. Might go to see a film or a band or talk the whole way through a comedy show. I'm fed up today. Recommend something for me to do this weekend. Hurry up.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk
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