I'm Only Not Sleeping.

The horrible thing about taking public transport for me these days is having to witness the amount of fucking bastards who haven't had their iPods stolen. I hate those smug iPod still-having pricks. Yesterday, I sat behind a man who played very loud bhangra music on his as yet nickedless iPod and I wanted to punch his face in for it. Bhangra music is awful, fucking, fucking awful. And every song is the same song and every song is fucking, fucking awful. Jangly music while a woman with one of those swimming clip things on her nose screams her face off, I get it! Some cunt could be listening to bhangra or classical music or fucking Keane on my iPod right now. I hope whoever nicked it can't ever update it and has to listen to my entire Marillion collection FOREVER. That'll make the cheeky little chappie think again about a life of crime.

I arrived in Liverpool about 6 and started drinking with my good friend Ali from the excellent band 28 Costumes (you can hear all their stuff on iTunes or, if you've nicked my iPod, my iPod). Only a few drinks, mind, because I'm a professional and I was working at Comedy Central @ Baby Blue later. That said, I was compering so I didn't feel the pressure to be THAT sober so I had a nice warm little buzz which turned to a nauceous funk when I found out I was actually doing a set instead. There wasn't that many people at the gig and they all seemed a bit cold at the beginning.but compere Dan Willis lept to the challenge and called them all sad, told someone that they had Leukemia and said the words McCann and Madeleine (not in that order) all in the first two minutes. A relaxing atmosphere was cemented (then smashed to fuckery) when the drunk fucker who can't shut up made herself known. Luckily, by the time I went on she had fallen home. The gig was actually pretty good with a lot of the small audience making the room sound pretty full, especially the front row who were a full on comedy crowd just on their own. I always wimp out a bit at this gig for some reason. Last night I did stuff I've always done here and only two new bits but hopefully tonight I won't be so cowardly even though I probably will. Killian Monsoon was good though.

Ali and I then went to a couple of bars where children go to drink, by the looks of things. I love drinking in Liverpool because it's all like one big student bar. You spend hardly any money and you still get drunk. No wonder it's European Capital of Culture. Well done, la's! The big highlight for me last night was meeting Will Sergeant from Echo and The Bunnymen. I nearly got my photo taken with him! Except my phone ran out of battery and, instead of looking like a keen fan, I came across like a cack-handed weirdo who couldn't stop apologising. Very smooth. Then I went to bed about 1 to catch up on a lot of much needed sleep.

I woke up at 5am. Wide awake. Jet lag is a prick and if anyone has some advice on beating it I'd be very grateful. At 5am I listened to the whole of the latest Collings and Herrin podcast, watched two episodes of The Krotons, deleted lots of stuff from my iTunes in preperation of my new iPod Touch that I hope someone will buy for me (I deleted all the Beatles albums but kept Britney Spears' Toxic) and listened to three Bruce Springsteen albums while playing Uno on my phone. That's the life of the insomniac travelling comedian. In your face, Motley Crue!

Fin.

It was probably the last ever Real Daniel O'Donnell Show last night and we all really enjoyed it. The sketches weren't exactly rehearsed beforehand so us shitting ourselves might have lent a certain energy to the show. Our guests were all excellent and it was certainly great to finally have Robin Ince on our stage and he was fantastic. I'm very jealous of anyone who can get 10 minutes of well put-together material from something that happened 10 minutes ago. The script editor for Skins is a fucking prick of the highest order and I and you hope he gets run over by a ship very soon.

I'm not sure how I feel about it being the last show. Margaret and Zoe are either busy or pregnant and it's not really the same without them, Muki's going to be under doctor's orders for a while and we're certainly too thick to run the show ourselves plus I'm not sure how keen I am on the Albany any more. It's a great venue and James Wren, who runs it, is a very nice man to deal with but we always run at a loss because the venue hire price is ridiculous and now I'm told that if we're at the venue before 5 o'clock on the day we have to pay for that as well. That's pretty much a fucking insult. We get people in who buy drinks from their bar (when you can fucking find any of the staff) but that's seemingly not enough for the Albany. Although they must make a good few hundred quid from us each show they still want to charge us for turning up early to make sure the show runs well. Why would the show running well matter to them? They've got our money so we can all go fuck ourselves. Thanks for your support. It'll be a shame if we can't go back to the Albany but I'm not paying twice to use the same room. As a mark of defiance against the venue I am now boycotting Clark's until they change their policy. And if they don't, well, it's still all good.

Last night was also the beginning of Los Quattros Cunts which is basically The Trap, me and some unfinished sketches. Although it was all very rough I think it might turn into something very nice indeed. We definitely have some great ideas that we can work on. I think The Two Ronnies' Fork-handles sketch sending one of our sketches a telegram was a bit of a highlight for me and Jeremy's Jamie Gollum was fucking superb. Mainly, though, it was the slagging off of other sketch groups that was the most enjoyable. I liked that. It has to be said that Dan Mersh was fantastic in the show last night so we might get rid of him. And the audience were just perfect, really into it and very supportive. All in all, I'm feeling very positive about this little venture because, at the end of the day, it's all about performing something you care about in a great venue in front of intelligent, caring and supportive people.

I'm off to do some gigs in Liverpool now.

I Don't Care Where You Are.

There. I said it. I fucking went there. I really don't care where you are when I want you to be somewhere else. Facebook is a minefield of rampant egotism at the best of times but today's annoyance is basically people declining an invitation. I don't mind that people don't want to come to The Real Daniel O'Donnell Show tonight at the Albany 8pm, that's fine. You're under no obligation. But for fuck sake, you don't need to tell me (or should I say everyone) that you're doing something more interesting. "I'm in Tuscany" Fuck off! "I'm going to see a friend's band" All friend's bands are shit. "It's Yom Kippur" Grow the fuck up, there is no God. Well, I hope you all have a fucking nice time. You can easily say no without giving us your life-story, you know? Bloody stupid Facebook. Oh, and another thing; Women, stop taking photos of yourself for Facebook, it's really creepy. There. That's finally been said.

We did a little bit of rehearsing for Los Quattros Cunts last night. We have a grand total of three (at a push four) sketches that basically have us arguing with each other or arguing with ourselves. I, for one, really like them. They're still only ideas but I think they're really good ideas and hopefully they'll spark us off to do a Los Quattros Cunts show properly very soon. Not that we did much work (although we did more than we have done for months) last night because Jeremy turned up with a full episode of Jokers Wild that needed to be watched and dissected. If you haven't seen this fucking awful pile of 70's chain-smoking piss then you probably never will. So well done, you. It's worth watching for all the wrong reasons and Ray Martine is a joy to avoid. He's like an unfunny Paul Foot or a very funny James Dreyfus, I haven't made up my mind. It was also nice to have a beer with my mates and tell them things that happened in America that I can't really put in my blog. I swatted a priest. I shouldn't have told you that.

I'm really looking forward to tonight because the sketch ideas are pretty good and our guests are great; Martin White, Hils Barker and Robin Ince. I hope Robin's in a really bad mood, he's hilarious when he vents. Plus, it's our last show for a while, at least until Muki is 100% fighting fit (which shouldn't take long). Shame you can't make it. Have fun in Tuscany/at your mate's gig/with your imaginary friend.

Fucking BAstards.

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Drinking.

I got tipsy in the daytime yesterday. It was fucking great. Everyone buggered off except me and my new friend Denise so we went to the Beach Cafe (I could pick up the flaw in the bar's name here in grey, rainy Seattle but I'll leave that up to you) and ended up drinking a few black russians. That is a great way to spend an afternoon and I recommend that you do the same today. The waitress was perky, swell and real happy to serve all y'all today, thank you, today, sir, please, thank you but I was in such a good mood that I didn't even want to punch her fucking stupid cheery face in. I did anyway.

Then, after screaming at the premier episode of The Clone Wars, I was off to Wilde Rover, an Irish bar built by an Irishman, designed by an Irishman, run by an Irishman and patronised by rich Americans who swear blind they are Irish because their great-grandmother's neice had a green jumper once. It was actually OK because I was still enjoying the little black russian buzz from earlier but after a few pints of the aul' black stuff and a pint of Guinness (HA HA HA!) I felt compelled to argue with a right-wing christian. Unfortunately, the room I was in was only fucking full of them so I thought I best watch myself because I didn't want to get murdered to death. I did meet one person who hated Sarah Palin and she was enjoyably loud about it but by that time I had been introduced to the only other Irish person in Seattle and we felt obliged to talk to one another. Not because we wanted to, it was just so the other people could see that you can have two of us in the room without a fight happening. After the fight, I left and went back to the hotel to watch the OJ Simpson verdict. I was very happy with it and slept like a fat, drunk baby. God bless America. It took you long enough but you finally got him. Why not try Bin-Laden next? Just a suggestion.

Today's the wedding day. I've now been put in charge of videoing it although I like to think of my role as documentor of the far-right. I'm looking forward to it. I might even have a drink, who knows?

Stars and Stripes and Cunts.

I’m in America. I used to get very excited about coming to America when I was a child but it’s long lost that exciting buzz. The moment you land in the country they may as well tell you that they fucking hate you. As soon as I got raped, or as they call it Stateside “security checked”, I felt like I just didn’t want to be there. You have to give two fingerprints and have a photo taken before they even look at your passport. Basically, you’re guilty of plotting a terrorist attack until proven innocent. Welcome to America and have a nice day.

The flight was good, though. I was in the enviable position of having a free seat next to me. That’s like an upgrade! I had the choice of a million films and only chose ones I’d seen before plus the hilariously shit The Happening. M. Night Shyalaman’s films always have a really interesting twist at the end and The Happening’s interesting twist was that you made it to the end with out kicking the fuck out of the screen. Marky Mark is the lead but frequently gets upstaged by plants and grass. How that utter fuck-wit ever gets work is beyond me and includes lots of blow-jobs. Then I arrived in Seattle, the Birmingham of America (even though they have an actual Birmingham), and drank until it was proper bedtime. Jet lag? Never heard of i…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Yesterday I was very excited to go to Seattle’s Sci-Fi Museum and Hall of Fame. I was told by a fucking idiot that they had a Dalek there so that was as good a reason as any to go. They didn’t have a Dalek. They had Robby the Robot which the fucking idiot thought was a Dalek. Stupid fucking thick American cunt. It had NOTHING about Doctor Who in it at all, proving what a fascist state this country has become. It had props from The Black Hole, Innerspace, Transformers and a cuntload of other useless Sci-Fi balls. It even had the actual Muffit from Battlestar Galactica. Who gives a flying fat shit about any of that? They had a Time Travel and an Inter-Dimensional Travel section but they featured NOTHING from the Doctor. FUCKING FAT AMERICAN CUNTS. I left vowing to one day overthrow this ridiculous place.

Later that night, I watched part of the Vice-presidential debates and decided that the Doctor Who ignoring yankee pricks deserved their fate. Biden waffled and smiled while Palin wore make-up, it was very hard to pick one I hated more. It’s probably Palin though. She “won’t judge homosexuals” but will vote against their rights. If you hate them at least have the balls to say so. Not that she has balls because she is a woman, and trust me, that is as in-depth a political review of Sarah Palin that you will ever get over here. After the debate, CNN ran a poll and 88% of Americans thought that she came across better than they had expected. Of course she fucking did because we all expected her to just stand there shitting herself, then rubbing the shit on her plastic, crying face and then eating her shit and then grabbing her trophy Downe’s Syndrome baby for a last minute you-can’t-hate-me-my-baby-is-this photo opportunity. She’s awful.

I need to get drunk over here or else I’m going to go mad. It’s nice but it would be nicer if I was drunk. I’m going to an Irish bar tonight (glad I came all this way) and tomorrow I’m going to a wedding. There are very nice people getting married on Saturday. I like them a lot but I know I’m going to get drunk and the groom and all his friends are Bush-ites and Jesus heads. Should be fun.

Bloggette.

I forgot to say something else about the train down to Margate the other day. There were also some very loud people on there talking about films. One woman declared that her favourite film is Bee Movie. I've never met that woman before, I don't even know her name, but I hate her guts and think she should be imprisoned. After about five minutes of debating film one of the men said how much they loved the film Chinatown. I was very impressed with his choice because I'm a big fan too. He then went on to say that Jackie Chan was "wicked" in it. The thick, thick, THICK cunt. God, I fucking hate him and so do you.

Last night I put some time aside to watch The Mysterious Planet which is the first story in the Doctor Who serial The Trial of a Time Lord. It was fucking awful and I was furious throughout the entire thing and strangely enjoyed the experience. I've long come to the conclusion that Doctor Who is my football. I support it loyally and it routinely lets me down but I keep paying good money for more. I can't stand football, mainly down to the violent nature of the fans but if you saw me screaming my head off at a TV (while alone) because EVERY single fucking cliffhanger has someone saying "Doctor, you will be sentenced to death", its a tad scarier than a Millwall riot and certainly more pathetic. I don't know why they keep saying it, just fucking kill him. It's only Colin Baker. Kill him. Kill him now before he meets Melanie Bush.

I'm off for a few days so blogs might be a bit scarce. Not much to write about anyway. I'll be in America. What's going to annoy me there?