The last couple of days in my Croatia trip have been just as relaxing as the rest. I never thought that, as a man who basically does fuck all, I could ever do less than I normally do but I'm an achiever. If there is more fuck all out there to do then I shall grasp that sleeping bull by the horns and just do an almighty amount of nothing. Yeah, doing less than nothing is certainly a first for me and I'm very proud of myself for ticking that box successfully. The Devil finds work for idle hands. Not mine, I'm just that idle.
That wasn't the only first that I achieved on this trip either, I also got sunburnt for the first time. I'm so horribly pale that I normally just reflect the sun back on to itself but this time the sun tried extra hard and now I have two stingingly painful streaks of burn all down my legs. I look a bit like bacon. Vegetarian bacon, of course. I've actually been jealous of sunburnt people before. Seeing people complain about their lobster faces or their fried arms used to fuck me right off due to the sun's rudeness. At least it noticed them, it ignored me. But now, probably thanks to my appearances in The Trap Sodcast, the sun has finally taken notice and it fucking aches. I'm not good with pain at the best of times and mild irritation is like having my eyes gouged out and shoved through the eye of my penis while I shit an anvil. I'm playing up this small bit of sunburn brilliantly. I reckon one more sobbing phone call and I can get my mum to come over from Northern Ireland and make me soup.
I loved Croatia and recommend that you go on a holiday as soon as you can. Not necessarily to Croatia, you might not like it, but somewhere. Holiday is a great idea. It's pretty much my favourite thing right now. I'm all about Judith Charmers over here. Do give Croatia a thought, though. Here are my Top Ten Favourite Things About Croatia. You'll be booking that trip in no time!
1. It's where Goths go on holiday! Seriously. I saw them sunbathing. It's a bit like seeing a nun fucking a protestant. It's just wrong.
2. Bread in breadcrumbs. Unbelievably, this is what they call French Toast.
3. Hotels have a "Complaintment Department".
4. Deep-fried Brussels Sprouts. Take that, Scotland!
5. People look at you like a twat when you order a Pivo and they bring you a Heineken or a Lowenbrau or a Budweiser or something. You wanted a Pivo. While you're here you should try out the local brew. Oh, yeah, you argue with the cunts. You keep telling them "Pivo, please. Pivo. Pivo. PIVO!" but they always bring a beer that you could get anywhere and when you point out that that's not what you want they tell you that that's what you ordered. You fucking didn't order a fucking Fosters, you ordered a Pivo. What the fuck is wrong with everyone? Is Pivo a drink that's for Croatian's only? Grow the fuck up, you fucki...oh, pivo means beer. Fine. Heineken, please.
6. Their cornflakes look and taste like psoriasis.
That's my Top Ten, holidaymakers. Hope that helps. Back to real life now. Hope all's OK. Has Peter Kay done anything since I've been gone?
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Croatia Pt 2.
One thing you can definitely say about the people of Croatia: They really love animals.
I love animals too. So far on this trip I’ve seen Dolphins, Wild Rabbits, thousands of Trout, Bears and Wolves in the mountains (nearly) and lizards. I think the lizards are my favourite so far. They are the Croatian version of mice except they’re much cleaner and instead of screaming in fear when they come into a room I scream with excitement and make an idiot of myself. Yes, as much as I love animals I have to admit that the people of Croatia definitely love them more than me. In fact, they love animals so much that, over here, they actually eat them!
I know it sounds disgusting but animal flesh is actually thought of as food in Croatia. They eat everything from baby goats to baby bison to babies, I’m guessing. There’s barely a dish available here that doesn’t come along with a side of murdered animal and the locals don’t bat an eyelid. Bat’s eyelids in particular are considered a delicacy. For my trip to the Plitvice National Park, where I nearly saw Bears and Wolves, my tour guide prepared some pack lunches for everyone and I chose the vegetarian option. This consisted of a bread roll, water and chicken.
The National Park was incredible, probably one of the most truly awesome things I’ve ever seen, and it was only helped by tour guide and carnivore, Elvis. He was huge but always referred to everyone as “My Dear” before saying their name which made me think that he might be The Master from Doctor Who. Any trip to a massive nature reserve is made all the better when you imagine that you’re part of a universal takeover.
Look, I’m on holiday, OK? The blogs don’t have to be that good.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
I love animals too. So far on this trip I’ve seen Dolphins, Wild Rabbits, thousands of Trout, Bears and Wolves in the mountains (nearly) and lizards. I think the lizards are my favourite so far. They are the Croatian version of mice except they’re much cleaner and instead of screaming in fear when they come into a room I scream with excitement and make an idiot of myself. Yes, as much as I love animals I have to admit that the people of Croatia definitely love them more than me. In fact, they love animals so much that, over here, they actually eat them!
I know it sounds disgusting but animal flesh is actually thought of as food in Croatia. They eat everything from baby goats to baby bison to babies, I’m guessing. There’s barely a dish available here that doesn’t come along with a side of murdered animal and the locals don’t bat an eyelid. Bat’s eyelids in particular are considered a delicacy. For my trip to the Plitvice National Park, where I nearly saw Bears and Wolves, my tour guide prepared some pack lunches for everyone and I chose the vegetarian option. This consisted of a bread roll, water and chicken.
The National Park was incredible, probably one of the most truly awesome things I’ve ever seen, and it was only helped by tour guide and carnivore, Elvis. He was huge but always referred to everyone as “My Dear” before saying their name which made me think that he might be The Master from Doctor Who. Any trip to a massive nature reserve is made all the better when you imagine that you’re part of a universal takeover.
Look, I’m on holiday, OK? The blogs don’t have to be that good.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Croatia Pt 1.
So, I’m in Croatia, a country I hadn’t given a single thought to until this week. I don’t really know why. It just never registered with me. And, the way I so far have been able to walk around the streets without being constantly mobbed by screaming teenage girls, they’ve never heard of me either. The good news is that Croatia and I are getting on very well. It’s a beautiful place and the “Fuck it, we’ll do it tomorrow” attitude of the people suits me fine.
I’m staying in a very touristy place called Porec but, as it’s just out of tourist season, there are really not that many people around. To be fair, I haven’t really looked round Porec mainly due to fear of Brits On The Piss types that probably aren’t even here. Not that I’ve avoided British people since I’ve been here. I fucking haven’t. There seems to be mainly British people staying at my hotel, along with some Germans. No doubt hilarity will ensue at the poolside over some towel-on-the-lounger situation. The German’s have definitely been my favourite. Two of them to be precise. I saw them on my first night and thought they might be the biggest pair of twatty geeks I have ever seen. Looks can be deceiving.
They’re a couple in their early 50’s, I’m guessing, and I saw them while going to the hotel bar for my nightcap. The hotel bar has a terrible covers band EVERY FUCKING NIGHT so I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to just sit there and have a relaxing beer. Plus the place is floodlit. You can practically see people’s bones, it’s so brightly lit. The band played some terrible balls and there were two people dancing along to it. Only two. And everyone was transfixed on them. It was like they had rehearsed their dance routine for weeks, both smiling constantly as if trying to appeal to judges. They twirled around and shook what I assume is their stuff for ages, always bowing after each song. It’s not like they were bad people, just geeks. Fairly embarrassing, quite laughable geeks. Their geekdom only enhanced by the gentleman’s choice of clothing. He wore a very tight white t-shirt with cut off sleeves, tight black shorts, a bum bag and silver, spangley shoes. He was 50+ and a disco demon.
The next day, I saw the couple again. This time getting on a tandem. I recognised the gentleman immediately by his massive permanent smile, the same one he had been so proud of while dancing. They were both dressed identically this time. In cycling gear. Their tops suggested they cycled competitively but my brain suggested they didn’t. They looked even geekier than the previous night. Then the gentleman went off for a few minutes on his own leaving, I presume, his wife to hold the tandem until he returned. She all of a sudden looked very serious. Not exactly sad but definitely serious, like she was not just standing on her own but actually alone with her thoughts. Crap, I stupidly thought, this is all his idea and she hates it but goes along with it anyway. He returned with his big grin and patronisingly helped her on to the bike like she was so fragile that she couldn’t possibly do it herself. I really started to dislike this guy.
That night, I went for my nightcap again and caught two long tedious songs from the crap covers band while waiting to get served. The German couple were up again twirling and spinning and bowing and there was his big smile beaming out his evil, controlling punchableness throughout the room. The second song ended and he decided that they would sit this one out and sit down. He even led her by the hand to her seat. The patronising cunt. Maybe she can walk to her seat herself without your fucking help, you smug shit…..OR perhaps, just perhaps, she’s blind.
She was blind. Probably still is. No wonder he grinned all the time. He was in a relationship with someone who despite being blind wanted to dance and, let’s face it this must be tricky for her, cycle her way round foreign countries and generally enjoy her life. I look at blindness as a disability that must cut out so much of your life and she simply doesn’t. They were up there looking ridiculous and spinning around for the judges (that weren’t there) and having a great time. A much better time than I was standing waiting to be served while complaining about a crap covers band. I love that couple. They have taught me a valuable lesson about judging people that I will soon forget. But that’s my problem. They, on the other hand, don’t have a problem in the world. Good for those geeks.
The little that I’ve travelled around Croatia has been both beautiful and shocking. Amongst the breathtaking scenery there are still constant reminders of the War of Independence and the locals don’t seem to want to hide those signs either. It’s what they went through and it’s too recent to pretend to forget. It’s also deeply moving for someone who didn’t live through it. In one hour long journey through the Istra countryside I saw numerous houses still riddled with bullet holes, a burnt-out, crashed shell of a fighter jet and a piece of angry graffiti that read “Jakob is homo for Turkey cock”. It’s hard not to think about how this place was just a decade and a half ago with people fleeing their homes, tanks rolling through the fields and Jakob sucking off poultry. The fun side of Croatia is evident, it’s very much a party place, but I find its recent history more interesting. The few people I’ve met have all been affected by the war, grew up during it and know all too much about it. None of them remember Jakob though.
And that is why I'm not a travel writer.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
I’m staying in a very touristy place called Porec but, as it’s just out of tourist season, there are really not that many people around. To be fair, I haven’t really looked round Porec mainly due to fear of Brits On The Piss types that probably aren’t even here. Not that I’ve avoided British people since I’ve been here. I fucking haven’t. There seems to be mainly British people staying at my hotel, along with some Germans. No doubt hilarity will ensue at the poolside over some towel-on-the-lounger situation. The German’s have definitely been my favourite. Two of them to be precise. I saw them on my first night and thought they might be the biggest pair of twatty geeks I have ever seen. Looks can be deceiving.
They’re a couple in their early 50’s, I’m guessing, and I saw them while going to the hotel bar for my nightcap. The hotel bar has a terrible covers band EVERY FUCKING NIGHT so I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to just sit there and have a relaxing beer. Plus the place is floodlit. You can practically see people’s bones, it’s so brightly lit. The band played some terrible balls and there were two people dancing along to it. Only two. And everyone was transfixed on them. It was like they had rehearsed their dance routine for weeks, both smiling constantly as if trying to appeal to judges. They twirled around and shook what I assume is their stuff for ages, always bowing after each song. It’s not like they were bad people, just geeks. Fairly embarrassing, quite laughable geeks. Their geekdom only enhanced by the gentleman’s choice of clothing. He wore a very tight white t-shirt with cut off sleeves, tight black shorts, a bum bag and silver, spangley shoes. He was 50+ and a disco demon.
The next day, I saw the couple again. This time getting on a tandem. I recognised the gentleman immediately by his massive permanent smile, the same one he had been so proud of while dancing. They were both dressed identically this time. In cycling gear. Their tops suggested they cycled competitively but my brain suggested they didn’t. They looked even geekier than the previous night. Then the gentleman went off for a few minutes on his own leaving, I presume, his wife to hold the tandem until he returned. She all of a sudden looked very serious. Not exactly sad but definitely serious, like she was not just standing on her own but actually alone with her thoughts. Crap, I stupidly thought, this is all his idea and she hates it but goes along with it anyway. He returned with his big grin and patronisingly helped her on to the bike like she was so fragile that she couldn’t possibly do it herself. I really started to dislike this guy.
That night, I went for my nightcap again and caught two long tedious songs from the crap covers band while waiting to get served. The German couple were up again twirling and spinning and bowing and there was his big smile beaming out his evil, controlling punchableness throughout the room. The second song ended and he decided that they would sit this one out and sit down. He even led her by the hand to her seat. The patronising cunt. Maybe she can walk to her seat herself without your fucking help, you smug shit…..OR perhaps, just perhaps, she’s blind.
She was blind. Probably still is. No wonder he grinned all the time. He was in a relationship with someone who despite being blind wanted to dance and, let’s face it this must be tricky for her, cycle her way round foreign countries and generally enjoy her life. I look at blindness as a disability that must cut out so much of your life and she simply doesn’t. They were up there looking ridiculous and spinning around for the judges (that weren’t there) and having a great time. A much better time than I was standing waiting to be served while complaining about a crap covers band. I love that couple. They have taught me a valuable lesson about judging people that I will soon forget. But that’s my problem. They, on the other hand, don’t have a problem in the world. Good for those geeks.
The little that I’ve travelled around Croatia has been both beautiful and shocking. Amongst the breathtaking scenery there are still constant reminders of the War of Independence and the locals don’t seem to want to hide those signs either. It’s what they went through and it’s too recent to pretend to forget. It’s also deeply moving for someone who didn’t live through it. In one hour long journey through the Istra countryside I saw numerous houses still riddled with bullet holes, a burnt-out, crashed shell of a fighter jet and a piece of angry graffiti that read “Jakob is homo for Turkey cock”. It’s hard not to think about how this place was just a decade and a half ago with people fleeing their homes, tanks rolling through the fields and Jakob sucking off poultry. The fun side of Croatia is evident, it’s very much a party place, but I find its recent history more interesting. The few people I’ve met have all been affected by the war, grew up during it and know all too much about it. None of them remember Jakob though.
And that is why I'm not a travel writer.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Play The Game.
Although I really enjoyed my long weekend in Edinburgh, I’m still slightly miffed at the amount of time I wasted doing nothing. It’s amazing and depressing how often this can occur when you have a job that’s as glamorous and exciting as a stand-up comedian’s. Pretty much, we don’t know how to cope with daytime.
Sure, I’ve packed some classic books on weekend trips all over the world. Love In the Time of Cholera to Singapore, Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas to Amsterdam, The Sound of Laughter to Nottingham but have I read any of them? Fuck, no. That would be somehow spending my time wisely. That’s never going to happen. I’m a stand-up comedian (in a way) and must spend my free time in strange places shuffling.
But I’ve come up with at least one amusing way to pass a little bit of time, plus it might actually feel like I’ve achieved something in my thrown-away life. It’s Joe Heenan’s fault, sort of. He compered the Edinburgh gigs and during the intervals we talked a lot about how time gets dumped on these trips away from home. More importantly, we both mused, the amount of time touching your winkie goes WAY up. Winkie touching does get to be an almost default setting to the easily bored. I’m not saying its constant; I’m just saying that it’s easy to fall back on a wank when you’re bored. It’s like Joe said, it’s better than watching Channel 4 Racing. And that’s when I had my good idea. You can stop reading this now, If you like. Especially if you’re related to me.
It’s a game, of sorts, and it’s called Beat The Horse. The rules are very simple. Switch on Channel 4 Racing and, basically, when the race starts so do you. You MUST finish before the horses do. Now, this game might not be for everyone (not everyone has that competitive edge that I have) and you must be careful to do it properly. Safety first and all that. Firstly, make sure that your hotel room door is locked. The last thing you want is housekeeping walking in while you’re playing a game of Beat The Horse. They might just see it as a man who fancies animals as opposed to a normal man who likes passing the time playing competitive games. Secondly, make sure you have a tissue handy. You’ll need something to rip up in frustration when you lose.
So, it wasn’t a totally wasted weekend. At least I invented a game. Don't think it's sexist either. Women who want to wank off cocks during horse races are very welcome to do so. And now I’m in Croatia. I’ve no idea how that happened.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
Sure, I’ve packed some classic books on weekend trips all over the world. Love In the Time of Cholera to Singapore, Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas to Amsterdam, The Sound of Laughter to Nottingham but have I read any of them? Fuck, no. That would be somehow spending my time wisely. That’s never going to happen. I’m a stand-up comedian (in a way) and must spend my free time in strange places shuffling.
But I’ve come up with at least one amusing way to pass a little bit of time, plus it might actually feel like I’ve achieved something in my thrown-away life. It’s Joe Heenan’s fault, sort of. He compered the Edinburgh gigs and during the intervals we talked a lot about how time gets dumped on these trips away from home. More importantly, we both mused, the amount of time touching your winkie goes WAY up. Winkie touching does get to be an almost default setting to the easily bored. I’m not saying its constant; I’m just saying that it’s easy to fall back on a wank when you’re bored. It’s like Joe said, it’s better than watching Channel 4 Racing. And that’s when I had my good idea. You can stop reading this now, If you like. Especially if you’re related to me.
It’s a game, of sorts, and it’s called Beat The Horse. The rules are very simple. Switch on Channel 4 Racing and, basically, when the race starts so do you. You MUST finish before the horses do. Now, this game might not be for everyone (not everyone has that competitive edge that I have) and you must be careful to do it properly. Safety first and all that. Firstly, make sure that your hotel room door is locked. The last thing you want is housekeeping walking in while you’re playing a game of Beat The Horse. They might just see it as a man who fancies animals as opposed to a normal man who likes passing the time playing competitive games. Secondly, make sure you have a tissue handy. You’ll need something to rip up in frustration when you lose.
So, it wasn’t a totally wasted weekend. At least I invented a game. Don't think it's sexist either. Women who want to wank off cocks during horse races are very welcome to do so. And now I’m in Croatia. I’ve no idea how that happened.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
Monday, 4 May 2009
Lazy Coward.
Edinburgh is a phenomenal city. Literally, phenomenal. The sun was beaming down on it all day yesterday and yet rain fell on one street. It seemed a bit weird walking down this one little street and getting rained on only for it to stop when I turned the corner but it was even weirder when it happened again on my way back. I stood and watched it for a few minutes trying to figure out how this could happen but as Edinburgh is a mystery wrapped in a conundrum wrapped in a puzzle and I know fuck not nothing about the mechanics of rain I left baffled. I like baffled.
I've been to Edinburgh more times than I can remember and every time I'm there Arthur's Seat says "You still haven't been up here yet, have you?" and I always reply "No, Arthur's Seat, but I definitely will do it this time". Then I go to Forbidden Planet and pretend that Arthur's Seat doesn't exist. I was so determined yesterday morning that I wouldn't waste a day due to hungover difficulties that I decided the time to conquer Arthur's Seat had finally arrived. I was going to climb it! Well, walk up it. It was such a beautiful day that seeing Edinburgh, surely Britain's most beautiful city, in all it's glory was the only option to take. And I almost took it. I walked all the way down to the bottom of Arthur's Seat and was ready to make the walk all the way to the top when I noticed that I couldn't be bothered. It's fucking massive and the thing is the closer you get to it the bigger it appears. How does that happen? It's Edinburgh. Phenomenal Edinburgh. I turned my back to Arthur's Seat and proceeded to Forbidden Planet. I have now decided that I will NEVER go up Arthur's Seat. I will set up a Facebook group for other people who will NEVER go up Arthur's Seat later. Join me.
The day wasn't a total waste (it was) because yesterday I popped my Star Trek cherry. Although I've seen some of the films and consider The Wrath of Khan to be one of the greatest things that anyone has done ever, I've never watched a TV episode. Now I've watched six. Six violent, sexist episodes of this iconic violent, sexist sci-fi classic. Here's what I have learned about the 23rd century: Women are shit. Even Spock, a Vulcan who is motivated only by extreme logic, repeatedly punches a woman until she is unconscious. That's the first episode. Then, just a few episodes later, Captain Kirk tries to rape someone. How the fuck did this get a second series? Even bit part characters are creepy fucking pervs. In episode 2, Charley X, a 17 year old tries to rape the same woman Kirk does WITH HIS MIND. And cock, of course. Later, a charming Irish man boards the Enterprise and, yeah fuck it, pimps out three women to the crew. If any of you lovely ladies are still boo-hooing about equality or fair pay or what time Coronation Street is on or whatever it is you moo about then spare a thought for how shit it's going to be in 200 years time. Apparently, we're going to get medieval on your ass. Sorry about that.
Last night at The Stand was a let down. The audience were great and the other acts on the bill were fantastic but I chickened out of doing two new bits of material and I feel like a big coward. I did do some new stuff (yeah, the Maddie joke) but I fucked about and fucked about and just didn't do it. If you can't do new material at The Stand on a Sunday night then YOU'RE A FUCKING IDIOT, is my motto. Still, the gig was good and about 95% of the audience liked me, the other 5% LOATHED me so that's an achievement in itself. If I have ruined their evening in any way, I am happy. Very big thanks to the nice people of Twitterland who came down to The Stand this weekend. You're very nice.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
I've been to Edinburgh more times than I can remember and every time I'm there Arthur's Seat says "You still haven't been up here yet, have you?" and I always reply "No, Arthur's Seat, but I definitely will do it this time". Then I go to Forbidden Planet and pretend that Arthur's Seat doesn't exist. I was so determined yesterday morning that I wouldn't waste a day due to hungover difficulties that I decided the time to conquer Arthur's Seat had finally arrived. I was going to climb it! Well, walk up it. It was such a beautiful day that seeing Edinburgh, surely Britain's most beautiful city, in all it's glory was the only option to take. And I almost took it. I walked all the way down to the bottom of Arthur's Seat and was ready to make the walk all the way to the top when I noticed that I couldn't be bothered. It's fucking massive and the thing is the closer you get to it the bigger it appears. How does that happen? It's Edinburgh. Phenomenal Edinburgh. I turned my back to Arthur's Seat and proceeded to Forbidden Planet. I have now decided that I will NEVER go up Arthur's Seat. I will set up a Facebook group for other people who will NEVER go up Arthur's Seat later. Join me.
The day wasn't a total waste (it was) because yesterday I popped my Star Trek cherry. Although I've seen some of the films and consider The Wrath of Khan to be one of the greatest things that anyone has done ever, I've never watched a TV episode. Now I've watched six. Six violent, sexist episodes of this iconic violent, sexist sci-fi classic. Here's what I have learned about the 23rd century: Women are shit. Even Spock, a Vulcan who is motivated only by extreme logic, repeatedly punches a woman until she is unconscious. That's the first episode. Then, just a few episodes later, Captain Kirk tries to rape someone. How the fuck did this get a second series? Even bit part characters are creepy fucking pervs. In episode 2, Charley X, a 17 year old tries to rape the same woman Kirk does WITH HIS MIND. And cock, of course. Later, a charming Irish man boards the Enterprise and, yeah fuck it, pimps out three women to the crew. If any of you lovely ladies are still boo-hooing about equality or fair pay or what time Coronation Street is on or whatever it is you moo about then spare a thought for how shit it's going to be in 200 years time. Apparently, we're going to get medieval on your ass. Sorry about that.
Last night at The Stand was a let down. The audience were great and the other acts on the bill were fantastic but I chickened out of doing two new bits of material and I feel like a big coward. I did do some new stuff (yeah, the Maddie joke) but I fucked about and fucked about and just didn't do it. If you can't do new material at The Stand on a Sunday night then YOU'RE A FUCKING IDIOT, is my motto. Still, the gig was good and about 95% of the audience liked me, the other 5% LOATHED me so that's an achievement in itself. If I have ruined their evening in any way, I am happy. Very big thanks to the nice people of Twitterland who came down to The Stand this weekend. You're very nice.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
Sunday, 3 May 2009
Day of the Dead.
I spent all day yesterday in a haze. A totally wasted day with me being just as wasted as it was. It was as if I'd drunk too much alcohol the previous night and that alcohol had somehow had an effect on me. I was hungover (it's a technical term) and my hangover decided to spend the day with me. It went wherever I went. And it did a lot of shouting.
It's amazing to spend an entire day doing absolutely nothing but just lie there and feel sorry for yourself. An incredible waste of time and I knew it but did nothing about it. I could have walked up Arthur's Seat, gone to Edinburgh Zoo or simply sat in the park and people watched (you know, oggling) but my hangover had other plans. A carefully put together set of plans that meant that I stayed in bed, watched Doctor Who, Twittered and felt the agony of Christ as my hangover punished me for enjoying myself.
I was also supposed to go to The Whisky Society with The Stand Comedy Club's Chris Cooper yesterday afternoon to spend the day trying various single malts that whisky expert Chris suggested. I loved that idea when I was drunk and even thought it exciting before I got drunk but, strangely, when my hangover arrived I wasn't that keen on trying out different kinds of booze. The very thought would have made me throw up if I wasn't already shitting out my newly diarrhoea-ed organs every three minutes. Unpleasant.
It's a shame to miss a day in Edinburgh because it's a fantastic place and I'll definitely make up for yesterday today. I just realised that I said NO to Edinburgh. That'll teach it.
The gigs have all been great here in The Stand as always. It's a wonderful club. You should go there. The gig last night was the first time all day that I didn't feel hungover although Chris Limb's poster for King of Everything helped too. Just look at it. Have you any idea how happy it has made me?
http://www.twitter.com/michaellegge
It's amazing to spend an entire day doing absolutely nothing but just lie there and feel sorry for yourself. An incredible waste of time and I knew it but did nothing about it. I could have walked up Arthur's Seat, gone to Edinburgh Zoo or simply sat in the park and people watched (you know, oggling) but my hangover had other plans. A carefully put together set of plans that meant that I stayed in bed, watched Doctor Who, Twittered and felt the agony of Christ as my hangover punished me for enjoying myself.
I was also supposed to go to The Whisky Society with The Stand Comedy Club's Chris Cooper yesterday afternoon to spend the day trying various single malts that whisky expert Chris suggested. I loved that idea when I was drunk and even thought it exciting before I got drunk but, strangely, when my hangover arrived I wasn't that keen on trying out different kinds of booze. The very thought would have made me throw up if I wasn't already shitting out my newly diarrhoea-ed organs every three minutes. Unpleasant.
It's a shame to miss a day in Edinburgh because it's a fantastic place and I'll definitely make up for yesterday today. I just realised that I said NO to Edinburgh. That'll teach it.
The gigs have all been great here in The Stand as always. It's a wonderful club. You should go there. The gig last night was the first time all day that I didn't feel hungover although Chris Limb's poster for King of Everything helped too. Just look at it. Have you any idea how happy it has made me?
http://www.twitter.com/michaellegge
Friday, 1 May 2009
Dr. Legge.
I have been in pain for weeks. I have no idea what's up with me. I ache everywhere. Even my hair hurts. I find it hard to walk, move, breathe, laugh (obviously) or do anything really. Every day I wake up and it takes me about 10 minutes to get out of bed. Of course, I could go to the doctors and find out what's wrong with me but that is the coward's way, not my way. I'd much rather live with the pain and throw a shroud of ignorance over myself, therefore never knowing if it's something really serious that could kill me.
It is the only cure that I know works 100%. Ignoring things is a medical wonder that has baffled scientists, doctors and Jesus for years but it definitely works. Got a headache? IGNORE IT. It's nothing. Your right side has gone numb? PAY IT NO MIND. It'll go away. Your cock is on fire? DON'T GIVE IT THE TIME OF DAY. It'll soon burn itself out.
Look at these fucking idiots who have died of the piggy cold. They went to hospital, told the doctors that they had piggy cold and THEY DIED. Coincidence? I think not. My grandfather smoked, drank and had heart attacks every day of his life and he lived to be nearly 200 years old. He was killed by an ambulance racing to save some cunt who had phoned the hospital complaining of pains. The dick.
I'm glad I've ignored my pain because it HAS gone away. Last night, my friend Marisa came to see me at The Stand Comedy Club in Edinburgh and after the gig massaged my shoulders. Not in a wet drama student way, I mean a proper massage. She's a real masseuse and she's amazing. Basically, she asks you to relax your body, sit comfortably, breathe calmly and then she batters the fuck out of you. There is truly a very fine line between a relaxing massage and a big kicking. But it worked. Yes, it hurt but afterwards I felt fantastic. All day today I've been walking like a normal human and not some old man who was shot in the dick by Hitler during the war. Thank you, Marisa. You're fantastic. I feel great. That's nice, isn't it? I like a massage with a happy ending.
Even seeing Wolverine today couldn't ruin my good feeling of having a fully functioning body again. It's a terrible film that tells us next to not fuck all about how he became a mutant. It is incredible how they made the film as both a prequel to X-Men and a sequel to Van Heilsing. How they did it I don't know or give a fat fuck. It's just two hours of Big Things Hugh Jackman Can Punch. He punches a man, a tree, a house, a helicopter and, finally, a big power station. Will.I.Am from The Black Eyed Peas is in it in case you need any more convincing of it's bag-of-ballsness. Avoid.
Looking forward to the next three nights here at The Stand. It's a fantastic comedy club. The last two nights in Glasgow and Edinburgh have been very good but I think the weekend gigs are going to be even better. Look how happy I am? That massage sure has worked. I love you all!
Blame Marisa.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
It is the only cure that I know works 100%. Ignoring things is a medical wonder that has baffled scientists, doctors and Jesus for years but it definitely works. Got a headache? IGNORE IT. It's nothing. Your right side has gone numb? PAY IT NO MIND. It'll go away. Your cock is on fire? DON'T GIVE IT THE TIME OF DAY. It'll soon burn itself out.
Look at these fucking idiots who have died of the piggy cold. They went to hospital, told the doctors that they had piggy cold and THEY DIED. Coincidence? I think not. My grandfather smoked, drank and had heart attacks every day of his life and he lived to be nearly 200 years old. He was killed by an ambulance racing to save some cunt who had phoned the hospital complaining of pains. The dick.
I'm glad I've ignored my pain because it HAS gone away. Last night, my friend Marisa came to see me at The Stand Comedy Club in Edinburgh and after the gig massaged my shoulders. Not in a wet drama student way, I mean a proper massage. She's a real masseuse and she's amazing. Basically, she asks you to relax your body, sit comfortably, breathe calmly and then she batters the fuck out of you. There is truly a very fine line between a relaxing massage and a big kicking. But it worked. Yes, it hurt but afterwards I felt fantastic. All day today I've been walking like a normal human and not some old man who was shot in the dick by Hitler during the war. Thank you, Marisa. You're fantastic. I feel great. That's nice, isn't it? I like a massage with a happy ending.
Even seeing Wolverine today couldn't ruin my good feeling of having a fully functioning body again. It's a terrible film that tells us next to not fuck all about how he became a mutant. It is incredible how they made the film as both a prequel to X-Men and a sequel to Van Heilsing. How they did it I don't know or give a fat fuck. It's just two hours of Big Things Hugh Jackman Can Punch. He punches a man, a tree, a house, a helicopter and, finally, a big power station. Will.I.Am from The Black Eyed Peas is in it in case you need any more convincing of it's bag-of-ballsness. Avoid.
Looking forward to the next three nights here at The Stand. It's a fantastic comedy club. The last two nights in Glasgow and Edinburgh have been very good but I think the weekend gigs are going to be even better. Look how happy I am? That massage sure has worked. I love you all!
Blame Marisa.
www.twitter.com/michaellegge
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