And then the guilt set in.
You see, although it was really funny signing all those things for Michael Legge from Angela's Ashes fans, I think I crossed a line. Don't get me wrong, if people are so stupid as to not recognise the very person they insist they are really big fans of then maybe they deserve what they get. Maybe. Er...they don't do they? They just made a mistake. When Tony took his shooting script of Angela's Ashes out of it's protective wallet I should have stopped him. I should have just made up an excuse for not signing it. The script had autograph's from Robert Carlisle and Frank McCourt. And, now, me. That shooting script went from interesting movie memorabilia to worthless bit of crap in one second flat. Oh, Tony. I'm so sorry. Please feel free to punch me (really gently) in the face. Crap. I have to work really hard on my career now to make that script valuable again. Stupid Legge.
The Angela's Ashes thingy has made me reflect on something: am I in Edinburgh and do I exist? I can't answer that question with any degree of honesty. When I first arrived someone told me that I was seen at the Assembly Rooms party the night before on cocaine and shouting at women when in actual fact I was in London. I think. Then on Twitter yesterday someone said they saw me do a "blinding" set in Camden the night before when in actual fact I was in Edinburgh. I think. After Wednesday's Gutted, our director Chris huddled the cast together to plan a surprise chorus of Happy Birthday for me even though he was standing next to me with his hand on my shoulder at the time. I think. Then the Angela's Ashes thing happened and it's started to worry me that no-one actually knows who I am. I bet I'm the only person in Edinburgh that feels like that.
The incredible nature of NO in Edinburgh has not lessened one little bit this year. No matter what you want, doesn't matter where or when, in Edinburgh the answer is almost certainly NO. I've blogged about it a few times before but here we go again. Today I went to SEVEN different places and was told NO, all in the space of a couple of hours. Various cafe's nearby brag about vegan breakfasts but EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE said "Sorry. we've got no vegan breakfasts today". CUNTS! And wipe that fucking smug look off your fucking face when you say that to me. I wanted the vegan breakfast. Why are you so fucking happy that you're telling me I can't have one? CUNTS!! I went to a coffee shop, A FUCKING COFFEE SHOP, and asked for a coffee. NO! What the hell is wrong with this place? Then I witnessed a Classic NO. A woman in a cafe obviously didn't want to give her child unhealthy food despite him whining "I want a burger. I want a burger" so she clearly lied to him. "They don't do burgers", she said. Then the dick behind the counter said "We do, actually". The woman rolled her eyes and ordered a burger for her son. Two minutes later the dick came back and said "Sorry, we've run out of burgers". Brilliant. The boy goes hungry and thinks his mum's a liar. Well done, Edinburgh.
Hey, I've done something INSANE! I went to see two shows. I know. I'm such a twat but I did it and I regret nothing. Both excellent shows. I may not see another one because that's a pretty good strike rate. Gary Delaney's Purist show at the Pleasance is so much fun. Evil fun too. I'm sure you're going to see it anyway as Gary seems to be selling out every day. You'd be very wise to. Fans of Michael Legge from Angela's Ashes will love it as he gets a name check. I think. A show that I must force you to see is Tara Flynn's Big Noise simply because it's, you know, brilliant and that. Really funny just plain weird songs. Dark and twisted? Macabre and bizarre? Maybe but mainly just weird and funny. "The Fog From The Film The Fog" is just one of the funniest things you're likely to see up here. You might think that, as I'm a friend of Tara's, that I'm biased but you'd be wrong. I bought a ticket specifically to watch her die on her arse for an hour but, unlike M Night Shyamalan films, the twist was right at the beginning. She was just excellent. Obviously, in a way, I'm disappointed but I can't take anything away from her. She has written a great show that I will definitely see again. I'm actually, and I never say this, proud of her. I will never tell her this to her face. She will get notions. And it was excellent to see very happy and giddy young students singing her songs afterwards. She's done well. The room was pretty much full when I saw it so I'd book early. She's on at the Gilded Balloon at 8.15.
Calm down, fuckers. I'm sure I'll see a bad show soon and bitch about it. I'm looking forward to it, to be honest.
On Twitter please use the #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical hastags
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
Friday, 13 August 2010
The Unknown Comic.
And then the guilt set in.
You see, although it was really funny signing all those things for Michael Legge from Angela's Ashes fans, I think I crossed a line. Don't get me wrong, if people are so stupid as to not recognise the very person they insist they are really big fans of then maybe they deserve what they get. Maybe. Er...they don't do they? They just made a mistake. When Tony took his shooting script of Angela's Ashes out of it's protective wallet I should have stopped him. I should have just made up an excuse for not signing it. The script had autograph's from Robert Carlisle and Frank McCourt. And, now, me. That shooting script went from interesting movie memorabilia to worthless bit of crap in one second flat. Oh, Tony. I'm so sorry. Please feel free to punch me (really gently) in the face. Crap. I have to work really hard on my career now to make that script valuable again. Stupid Legge.
The Angela's Ashes thingy has made me reflect on something: am I in Edinburgh and do I exist? I can't answer that question with any degree of honesty. When I first arrived someone told me that I was seen at the Assembly Rooms party the night before on cocaine and shouting at women when in actual fact I was in London. I think. Then on Twitter yesterday someone said they saw me do a "blinding" set in Camden the night before when in actual fact I was in Edinburgh. I think. After Wednesday's Gutted, our director Chris huddled the cast together to plan a surprise chorus of Happy Birthday for me even though he was standing next to me with his hand on my shoulder at the time. I think. Then the Angela's Ashes thing happened and it's started to worry me that no-one actually knows who I am. I bet I'm the only person in Edinburgh that feels like that.
The incredible nature of NO in Edinburgh has not lessened one little bit this year. No matter what you want, doesn't matter where or when, in Edinburgh the answer is almost certainly NO. I've blogged about it a few times before but here we go again. Today I went to SEVEN different places and was told NO, all in the space of a couple of hours. Various cafe's nearby brag about vegan breakfasts but EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE said "Sorry. we've got no vegan breakfasts today". CUNTS! And wipe that fucking smug look off your fucking face when you say that to me. I wanted the vegan breakfast. Why are you so fucking happy that you're telling me I can't have one? CUNTS!! I went to a coffee shop, A FUCKING COFFEE SHOP, and asked for a coffee. NO! What the hell is wrong with this place? Then I witnessed a Classic NO. A woman in a cafe obviously didn't want to give her child unhealthy food despite him whining "I want a burger. I want a burger" so she clearly lied to him. "They don't do burgers", she said. Then the dick behind the counter said "We do, actually". The woman rolled her eyes and ordered a burger for her son. Two minutes later the dick came back and said "Sorry, we've run out of burgers". Brilliant. The boy goes hungry and thinks his mum's a liar. Well done, Edinburgh.
Hey, I've done something INSANE! I went to see two shows. I know. I'm such a twat but I did it and I regret nothing. Both excellent shows. I may not see another one because that's a pretty good strike rate. Gary Delaney's Purist show at the Pleasance is so much fun. Evil fun too. I'm sure you're going to see it anyway as Gary seems to be selling out every day. You'd be very wise to. Fans of Michael Legge from Angela's Ashes will love it as he gets a name check. I think. A show that I must force you to see is Tara Flynn's Big Noise simply because it's, you know, brilliant and that. Really funny just plain weird songs. Dark and twisted? Macabre and bizarre? Maybe but mainly just weird and funny. "The Fog From The Film The Fog" is just one of the funniest things you're likely to see up here. You might think that, as I'm a friend of Tara's, that I'm biased but you'd be wrong. I bought a ticket specifically to watch her die on her arse for an hour but, unlike M Night Shyamalan films, the twist was right at the beginning. She was just excellent. Obviously, in a way, I'm disappointed but I can't take anything away from her. She has written a great show that I will definitely see again. I'm actually, and I never say this, proud of her. I will never tell her this to her face. She will get notions. And it was excellent to see very happy and giddy young students singing her songs afterwards. She's done well. The room was pretty much full when I saw it so I'd book early. She's on at the Gilded Balloon at 8.15.
Calm down, fuckers. I'm sure I'll see a bad show soon and bitch about it. I'm looking forward to it, to be honest.
On Twitter please use the #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical hastags
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
You see, although it was really funny signing all those things for Michael Legge from Angela's Ashes fans, I think I crossed a line. Don't get me wrong, if people are so stupid as to not recognise the very person they insist they are really big fans of then maybe they deserve what they get. Maybe. Er...they don't do they? They just made a mistake. When Tony took his shooting script of Angela's Ashes out of it's protective wallet I should have stopped him. I should have just made up an excuse for not signing it. The script had autograph's from Robert Carlisle and Frank McCourt. And, now, me. That shooting script went from interesting movie memorabilia to worthless bit of crap in one second flat. Oh, Tony. I'm so sorry. Please feel free to punch me (really gently) in the face. Crap. I have to work really hard on my career now to make that script valuable again. Stupid Legge.
The Angela's Ashes thingy has made me reflect on something: am I in Edinburgh and do I exist? I can't answer that question with any degree of honesty. When I first arrived someone told me that I was seen at the Assembly Rooms party the night before on cocaine and shouting at women when in actual fact I was in London. I think. Then on Twitter yesterday someone said they saw me do a "blinding" set in Camden the night before when in actual fact I was in Edinburgh. I think. After Wednesday's Gutted, our director Chris huddled the cast together to plan a surprise chorus of Happy Birthday for me even though he was standing next to me with his hand on my shoulder at the time. I think. Then the Angela's Ashes thing happened and it's started to worry me that no-one actually knows who I am. I bet I'm the only person in Edinburgh that feels like that.
The incredible nature of NO in Edinburgh has not lessened one little bit this year. No matter what you want, doesn't matter where or when, in Edinburgh the answer is almost certainly NO. I've blogged about it a few times before but here we go again. Today I went to SEVEN different places and was told NO, all in the space of a couple of hours. Various cafe's nearby brag about vegan breakfasts but EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE said "Sorry. we've got no vegan breakfasts today". CUNTS! And wipe that fucking smug look off your fucking face when you say that to me. I wanted the vegan breakfast. Why are you so fucking happy that you're telling me I can't have one? CUNTS!! I went to a coffee shop, A FUCKING COFFEE SHOP, and asked for a coffee. NO! What the hell is wrong with this place? Then I witnessed a Classic NO. A woman in a cafe obviously didn't want to give her child unhealthy food despite him whining "I want a burger. I want a burger" so she clearly lied to him. "They don't do burgers", she said. Then the dick behind the counter said "We do, actually". The woman rolled her eyes and ordered a burger for her son. Two minutes later the dick came back and said "Sorry, we've run out of burgers". Brilliant. The boy goes hungry and thinks his mum's a liar. Well done, Edinburgh.
Hey, I've done something INSANE! I went to see two shows. I know. I'm such a twat but I did it and I regret nothing. Both excellent shows. I may not see another one because that's a pretty good strike rate. Gary Delaney's Purist show at the Pleasance is so much fun. Evil fun too. I'm sure you're going to see it anyway as Gary seems to be selling out every day. You'd be very wise to. Fans of Michael Legge from Angela's Ashes will love it as he gets a name check. I think. A show that I must force you to see is Tara Flynn's Big Noise simply because it's, you know, brilliant and that. Really funny just plain weird songs. Dark and twisted? Macabre and bizarre? Maybe but mainly just weird and funny. "The Fog From The Film The Fog" is just one of the funniest things you're likely to see up here. You might think that, as I'm a friend of Tara's, that I'm biased but you'd be wrong. I bought a ticket specifically to watch her die on her arse for an hour but, unlike M Night Shyamalan films, the twist was right at the beginning. She was just excellent. Obviously, in a way, I'm disappointed but I can't take anything away from her. She has written a great show that I will definitely see again. I'm actually, and I never say this, proud of her. I will never tell her this to her face. She will get notions. And it was excellent to see very happy and giddy young students singing her songs afterwards. She's done well. The room was pretty much full when I saw it so I'd book early. She's on at the Gilded Balloon at 8.15.
Calm down, fuckers. I'm sure I'll see a bad show soon and bitch about it. I'm looking forward to it, to be honest.
On Twitter please use the #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical hastags
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
Rising From The Ashes.
I have done nothing.
Not the best start to a blog but it is a cold, hard fact. I am at the world’s biggest arts festival in a beautiful city full of excitement and I have done nothing. I wake up at noon, shuffle around to find a vegan breakfast (a cup of hot water that someone stirred with their finger), do the Angry show then at 3pm I swear blind that I won’t have any booze, normally while drinking beer, until after Gutted. Gutted (which is just getting better and better) comes and goes and then I fight like a gladiator to destroy my brain with alcohol while listening to actors sing Happy Birthday (along with embarrassing harmonies) at a member of their troupe of young, beautiful, permanently-fucking starlets in a late night performers bar. At about 5am my brain admits defeat and my carcass stomps to bed. This is not how a festival of arts is supposed to be.
I should be seeing shows, eating in interesting cafes and reading in courtyards. I will see a show today. I will. I really, really will. I nearly saw a show yesterday but it sold out. Which was a great relief. I mean, shows are an hour long. AN HOUR! In a box, oozing sweat and being dripped on by condensation with a comedian doing way better than I am showing off. I get enough of that in Pointless Anger. I don’t think I’m exaggerating at all when I say that I would rather be shot dead in the face and have my head shoved up my arse and my corpse posted to a German cannibal who would then eat me and all that would be left of me at all would be his excrement washing it’s way down a sewer than watch a quality hour of comedy. Maybe I’m in the wrong place.
I have got shows that I do want to see and I will get round to them soon. Just not yet. It’s too early. Plus all publicity for every single show puts me right off it. Whether it’s some cunt with more stilts than dignity flyering me to see a one-man play about global overpopulation or a comedian bragging that someone with pointless fame and no credentials likes them (“Great stuff” – Peter Shilton), it just makes me cringe.
Look, the main thing is this: I have nothing to complain about. Shows are going well and I’m having fun. It’s been very nice hanging out with The Gentleman’s Review over the past couple of days, I’ve found a little (mostly) vegan shop near my flat and it’s the most pressure-free Edinburgh I’ve ever had. I died doing a stand-up gig on Sunday night here and even that was quite nice. I just stopped doing my routine that the audience sat silently throughout and then said “Do you mind if I go?” The audience were totally cool and said “Yeah. No problem”.
And that’s why I haven’t blogged even though I said I would. It’s just too dull. Every day is quite pleasant and no-one wants to hear that. But nothing that brilliant is happening either. Until today. Just half an hour ago.
I can’t think of a more wrong thing that has ever happened to me. At today’s Pointless Anger, where I went red in the face screaming about Clare fucking Balding (you’ll have to see the show to find out why I hate her), there were three men in their 50’s who had all come to see me. They are big Michael Legge fans and have been for a long time. They came with autograph books, postcards for me to sign, scripts for me to sign, theatre programmes for me to sign and photographs for me to sign. Photographs of Michael Legge. The actor in Angela’s Ashes.
And I signed them all, reminiscing about when the photos were taken and confirming that Michael Gambon is really nice, with a completely straight face. I think my favourite thing that I was asked to sign was a photo of “me” and James Corden. Now, that’s good irony.
We had pictures taken together and talked about my films. All of which they loved. They love my films and my acting, they just have no clue what I look like. Even when I’m standing next to a photo of “me” they just don’t seem to see the difference. You would have thought one of them might have noticed that I’m 15 years older and incredibly less handsome than Michael Legge but they didn’t. Perhaps that’s the mark of a good actor. I played the part of Michael Legge from Angela’s Ashes so convincingly that even his biggest fans were convinced I was him. I bet even Michael Legge from Angela’s Ashes couldn’t do that.
Of course, the thing is, I enjoyed being Michael Legge from Angela’s Ashes for those few minutes. He has fans that love him no matter how much he’s rapidly aged and he has a career to be envied. Well, he did have.
“Michael, what work have you got lined up for after the festival?”, asked Tony, a huge Michael Legge fan.
“Doing Highlight in Watford” said Michael Legge.
If on Twitter please use the #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical hashtags
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
Not the best start to a blog but it is a cold, hard fact. I am at the world’s biggest arts festival in a beautiful city full of excitement and I have done nothing. I wake up at noon, shuffle around to find a vegan breakfast (a cup of hot water that someone stirred with their finger), do the Angry show then at 3pm I swear blind that I won’t have any booze, normally while drinking beer, until after Gutted. Gutted (which is just getting better and better) comes and goes and then I fight like a gladiator to destroy my brain with alcohol while listening to actors sing Happy Birthday (along with embarrassing harmonies) at a member of their troupe of young, beautiful, permanently-fucking starlets in a late night performers bar. At about 5am my brain admits defeat and my carcass stomps to bed. This is not how a festival of arts is supposed to be.
I should be seeing shows, eating in interesting cafes and reading in courtyards. I will see a show today. I will. I really, really will. I nearly saw a show yesterday but it sold out. Which was a great relief. I mean, shows are an hour long. AN HOUR! In a box, oozing sweat and being dripped on by condensation with a comedian doing way better than I am showing off. I get enough of that in Pointless Anger. I don’t think I’m exaggerating at all when I say that I would rather be shot dead in the face and have my head shoved up my arse and my corpse posted to a German cannibal who would then eat me and all that would be left of me at all would be his excrement washing it’s way down a sewer than watch a quality hour of comedy. Maybe I’m in the wrong place.
I have got shows that I do want to see and I will get round to them soon. Just not yet. It’s too early. Plus all publicity for every single show puts me right off it. Whether it’s some cunt with more stilts than dignity flyering me to see a one-man play about global overpopulation or a comedian bragging that someone with pointless fame and no credentials likes them (“Great stuff” – Peter Shilton), it just makes me cringe.
Look, the main thing is this: I have nothing to complain about. Shows are going well and I’m having fun. It’s been very nice hanging out with The Gentleman’s Review over the past couple of days, I’ve found a little (mostly) vegan shop near my flat and it’s the most pressure-free Edinburgh I’ve ever had. I died doing a stand-up gig on Sunday night here and even that was quite nice. I just stopped doing my routine that the audience sat silently throughout and then said “Do you mind if I go?” The audience were totally cool and said “Yeah. No problem”.
And that’s why I haven’t blogged even though I said I would. It’s just too dull. Every day is quite pleasant and no-one wants to hear that. But nothing that brilliant is happening either. Until today. Just half an hour ago.
I can’t think of a more wrong thing that has ever happened to me. At today’s Pointless Anger, where I went red in the face screaming about Clare fucking Balding (you’ll have to see the show to find out why I hate her), there were three men in their 50’s who had all come to see me. They are big Michael Legge fans and have been for a long time. They came with autograph books, postcards for me to sign, scripts for me to sign, theatre programmes for me to sign and photographs for me to sign. Photographs of Michael Legge. The actor in Angela’s Ashes.
And I signed them all, reminiscing about when the photos were taken and confirming that Michael Gambon is really nice, with a completely straight face. I think my favourite thing that I was asked to sign was a photo of “me” and James Corden. Now, that’s good irony.
We had pictures taken together and talked about my films. All of which they loved. They love my films and my acting, they just have no clue what I look like. Even when I’m standing next to a photo of “me” they just don’t seem to see the difference. You would have thought one of them might have noticed that I’m 15 years older and incredibly less handsome than Michael Legge but they didn’t. Perhaps that’s the mark of a good actor. I played the part of Michael Legge from Angela’s Ashes so convincingly that even his biggest fans were convinced I was him. I bet even Michael Legge from Angela’s Ashes couldn’t do that.
Of course, the thing is, I enjoyed being Michael Legge from Angela’s Ashes for those few minutes. He has fans that love him no matter how much he’s rapidly aged and he has a career to be envied. Well, he did have.
“Michael, what work have you got lined up for after the festival?”, asked Tony, a huge Michael Legge fan.
“Doing Highlight in Watford” said Michael Legge.
If on Twitter please use the #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical hashtags
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
Monday, 9 August 2010
Now I Know My Abie Seethe.
I am knackered. That's the main story of Edinburgh at the moment. I'm averaging 4 hours sleep and still haven't properly eaten. Vitamin tablets aren't really food but I am getting plenty of them. That's good, isn't it? The fact that I feel like I'm permanently anaesthetised, can't focus on any form of conversation and want to punch everything better is probably something I should be concerned with. I would puke but as I've eaten so little food I'm too embarrassed to.
But besides me trying to kill myself, Edinburgh has been fun so far. I've fucked up one of my vows by not seeing a single show so far. Meh. There's time. The vegan thing is still ongoing thanks largely to not eating but, fuck me, vegans are wankers. I haven't joined your cult, weirdos. And I'm not doing it to piss off vegetarians (who are now worse than meat eaters in the eyes of vegans). There IS ethical dairy farming in Britain. I know you hate the very thought that some dairy farmers actually care for the animals they work with because it gives you nothing to validate yourself with but it's still true. And your precious, precious soya milk is one of the least ethical things you can buy, you rain forest raping hypocrites. I am tired and grumpy.
The shows are going well, though. I think that's the main thing about doing the Fringe. The shows should at least be going well. I've done three Gutted's and two Pointless Angers so far and I've really enjoyed them. Even Saturday's really awful Gutted had it's charm. The props fucked up, the PA system fucked up, the sets fucked up, the actors fucked up. It was really good. I wish you had been there. Mind you, you'd have walked out if you had been. Everyone was a bit shaken after our shit show (we're allowed ONE) none more so than the increasingly adorable Penny Dreadfuls who collectively seemed to say "I fucking can't believe two people walked out of our show. I mean, that is so bad. When five people walk out, you really feel it. But when those 10 people walked out I felt sick. I've never had 50 people walk out before. Did you see those 172 people walk out?" Oh, pick a fucking number! So, that was it. We had our really bad one and it's good to have it done and out of the way. Last night's Gutted was great fun so all's well for the future. Pointless Anger is, of course, two old men shouting so NOTHING can possibly go wrong there.
I'm very glad to see that Edinburgh has remained full of shit. I often worry that it will turn into a nice place full of really nice performers but I shouldn't. I mean, the Fringe thrives on twats and lies. I arrived on Friday and just 20 minutes after dropping my bag off in the flat, I heard my first bullshit. Apparently, on Thursday night I went to the Assembly Rooms party and got coked off my face. I was completely mashed. I kept screaming at women and pointing at my genitals.
Weird. Could have sworn I was in London on Thursday night. Maybe Mick Talbot is up here?
But in my two days up here I have heard two Abie Philbin Bowman stories. That's one-a-day. I hope this keeps up. If you don't know Abie Philbin Bowman then you are incredibly lucky. I met him at last year's Fringe and I liked him as much as I like any cancerous tumour that won't shut up about itself. He's a solid gold, grade 'A' cunt and, although you have never heard of him and never ever will hear of him, you hate him. Read my Edinburgh blogs of last year to discover more about the fucking penis. Anyway, Abie met Lisa Keddie the other day. I'm a big fan of Lisa. She's lovely. I raved about how good she was last year but I also ACCIDENTALLY made her cry. I'm an idiot. That didn't mean that I didn't think she was great. I did and I do. She was and she is. But Abie's introduction to her was "Hi. We have something in common. Michael Legge hates me too".
Erm...
Then I heard a classic slice of Edinburgh twattery. There was a show at The Caves (if I have the venue wrong, I apologise) where acts could showcase a 5-10 minute chunk of their show. Pretty commonplace type of thing up here. Sadly, there was part of the show where none of the acts knew who was on next. The stage was left empty for a few seconds. A few seconds is a billion years to an empty stage but luckily one audience member had a great idea. He jumped on stage, did some hilarious material and the audience gave him a standing ovation.
Well, the guy in the audience was Abie and he leapt on to the stage even though he wasn't invited to. He stopped the next act from going on because he seized a chance to publicise his own worthless ego, did part of his show and died. Oh the ego's of Edinburgh. Will they ever learn? Abie won't.
Hey, guys. I'm sure that those Abie stories are only based on truth thus proving my theory that Edinburgh is based on lies and twats. At least with Abie stories you get both those things in the only place.
If using Twitter please use the #pointlessanger or #guttedmusical hastags
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
But besides me trying to kill myself, Edinburgh has been fun so far. I've fucked up one of my vows by not seeing a single show so far. Meh. There's time. The vegan thing is still ongoing thanks largely to not eating but, fuck me, vegans are wankers. I haven't joined your cult, weirdos. And I'm not doing it to piss off vegetarians (who are now worse than meat eaters in the eyes of vegans). There IS ethical dairy farming in Britain. I know you hate the very thought that some dairy farmers actually care for the animals they work with because it gives you nothing to validate yourself with but it's still true. And your precious, precious soya milk is one of the least ethical things you can buy, you rain forest raping hypocrites. I am tired and grumpy.
The shows are going well, though. I think that's the main thing about doing the Fringe. The shows should at least be going well. I've done three Gutted's and two Pointless Angers so far and I've really enjoyed them. Even Saturday's really awful Gutted had it's charm. The props fucked up, the PA system fucked up, the sets fucked up, the actors fucked up. It was really good. I wish you had been there. Mind you, you'd have walked out if you had been. Everyone was a bit shaken after our shit show (we're allowed ONE) none more so than the increasingly adorable Penny Dreadfuls who collectively seemed to say "I fucking can't believe two people walked out of our show. I mean, that is so bad. When five people walk out, you really feel it. But when those 10 people walked out I felt sick. I've never had 50 people walk out before. Did you see those 172 people walk out?" Oh, pick a fucking number! So, that was it. We had our really bad one and it's good to have it done and out of the way. Last night's Gutted was great fun so all's well for the future. Pointless Anger is, of course, two old men shouting so NOTHING can possibly go wrong there.
I'm very glad to see that Edinburgh has remained full of shit. I often worry that it will turn into a nice place full of really nice performers but I shouldn't. I mean, the Fringe thrives on twats and lies. I arrived on Friday and just 20 minutes after dropping my bag off in the flat, I heard my first bullshit. Apparently, on Thursday night I went to the Assembly Rooms party and got coked off my face. I was completely mashed. I kept screaming at women and pointing at my genitals.
Weird. Could have sworn I was in London on Thursday night. Maybe Mick Talbot is up here?
But in my two days up here I have heard two Abie Philbin Bowman stories. That's one-a-day. I hope this keeps up. If you don't know Abie Philbin Bowman then you are incredibly lucky. I met him at last year's Fringe and I liked him as much as I like any cancerous tumour that won't shut up about itself. He's a solid gold, grade 'A' cunt and, although you have never heard of him and never ever will hear of him, you hate him. Read my Edinburgh blogs of last year to discover more about the fucking penis. Anyway, Abie met Lisa Keddie the other day. I'm a big fan of Lisa. She's lovely. I raved about how good she was last year but I also ACCIDENTALLY made her cry. I'm an idiot. That didn't mean that I didn't think she was great. I did and I do. She was and she is. But Abie's introduction to her was "Hi. We have something in common. Michael Legge hates me too".
Erm...
Then I heard a classic slice of Edinburgh twattery. There was a show at The Caves (if I have the venue wrong, I apologise) where acts could showcase a 5-10 minute chunk of their show. Pretty commonplace type of thing up here. Sadly, there was part of the show where none of the acts knew who was on next. The stage was left empty for a few seconds. A few seconds is a billion years to an empty stage but luckily one audience member had a great idea. He jumped on stage, did some hilarious material and the audience gave him a standing ovation.
Well, the guy in the audience was Abie and he leapt on to the stage even though he wasn't invited to. He stopped the next act from going on because he seized a chance to publicise his own worthless ego, did part of his show and died. Oh the ego's of Edinburgh. Will they ever learn? Abie won't.
Hey, guys. I'm sure that those Abie stories are only based on truth thus proving my theory that Edinburgh is based on lies and twats. At least with Abie stories you get both those things in the only place.
If using Twitter please use the #pointlessanger or #guttedmusical hastags
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
Saturday, 7 August 2010
May I Recommend a Fight?
Before I start telling you all the horrible stories of Edinburgh, why not start off with the horrible stories of the train journey up to Edinburgh. I made some friends, I made some enemies. Sadly, they were all the same people.
The train was rammed, there was no trolley service and the WiFi kept cutting out. All very normal. The man next to me showed off his incredible snoring skills while a nearby baby screamed itself sick. Four and a half hours of crappy train crappiness. I cheered my belly up with it's last non-vegan food (at least for a while) and my brain hid in Horror of Fang Rock. Then I got a call from Lizzie Roper, my supporting actor in my musical. We had a quick chat about the show and hung up. That's when the happy Americans said hello.
I really do like Americans. Friendly, chatty, warm people who smile a lot. Not all of them, obviously. I heard that Charles Manson could be a right wally. But these Americans were nice and wanted to chat. They had overheard me talking to Lizzie and wanted to know if I was in a show. "YES, MY DEARS. I'M THE GLITTERING STAR OF A MUSICAL PRODUCTION THAT WILL MAKE YOU SWOON, DANCE, SING, LAUGH AND FALL IN LOVE!!!", I whispered. For the next ten minutes the Americans and I were the best of friends talking about the Fringe and how excited they were to be going. They even bought four tickets to Gutted right there on their laptop right in front of me. What lovely people, I thought. "We're also going to see Emo Phillips". Charming. "And Jennifer Coolidge". Lovely. "And Idiots of Ants". You stupid cunts. But I couldn't hold it against them (I fucking could) because they had been so very, very nice. Nice Americans. Nice, cheery Americans.
Of course, this couldn't last. We finished our chat and I put my earphones in and listened to a podcast while doing a little reading. Not long passed when Daddy American started watching YouTube clips on his laptop. With no earphones. Letting the noise blare out for all to hear whether they wanted to or not.
Now what to do? I mean, these Americans are my friends. I can't just tell them to turn the laptop off. I can't just tell them that they're being rude. Oh, no. I'm wrong. I can do that and I did do that.
Well, reader, the atmosphere changed.
I was polite about it and could see that they felt awkward about it but it was still annoying to have that unnecessary noise on a train so I felt pretty justified. "You know, I did just buy four tickets to your show", said Daddy American but he wouldn't listen to my explanations of not wanting to hear a bunch of YouTube clips while trying to listen to Phil Wilding telling someone to fuck off. "You should have a bit more respect", he continued ironically. I decided to quit while I was behind and ignored him despite his repeated grumblings and repeated claims of looking forward to THAT show. All I'm saying is, book for Monday. I reckon four Americans will be booing every time I walk on. Mind you, I've always been prepared for that.
Gutted had it's first night last night. It went up 45 minutes late and it over ran by about 20 minutes. COOL! It was a great first go at it though and fun to have a new stage set with a moving stage. Be nice if they had told me it was a moving stage and not just let it scare the crap out of me when it happened. I was standing on it and nearly fell when it moved. What a fun first night that would have been if I'd knocked all my fucking teeth out. Luckily, I have an American coming on Monday night to do that for me. The shows been edited a bit now and a song has been dropped so that should help time-wise. Hopefully I remember my lines and cues from now on because I reckon that looked sticky last night.
So, Edinburgh has begun. Gutted and the first Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire both went really well so I feel Edinburgh has really begun. Well, it's sort of begun. I mean it doesn't really begin until you've been stuck with a wanker who keeps going on about their reviews or a man on stilts hands you a flyer for a play called Amanda's Last Winter Of The Vagina, a tale of loss and screaming starring The Aylesbury Youth Collective and directed by a baby. I haven't seen any dancers rehearsing in the street and no one has invited me to The Loft Bar so it's been pretty much cunt-free. Still, I've only been here 24hrs. It'll all happen soon. Speaking of 24hrs in Edinburgh, you'll probably want to know all about how my veganism is going. It's going great. No milk, no cheese, no animal products of any kind. Also, I haven't eaten anything. I am very hungry.
On Twitter please use the hashtags #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
The train was rammed, there was no trolley service and the WiFi kept cutting out. All very normal. The man next to me showed off his incredible snoring skills while a nearby baby screamed itself sick. Four and a half hours of crappy train crappiness. I cheered my belly up with it's last non-vegan food (at least for a while) and my brain hid in Horror of Fang Rock. Then I got a call from Lizzie Roper, my supporting actor in my musical. We had a quick chat about the show and hung up. That's when the happy Americans said hello.
I really do like Americans. Friendly, chatty, warm people who smile a lot. Not all of them, obviously. I heard that Charles Manson could be a right wally. But these Americans were nice and wanted to chat. They had overheard me talking to Lizzie and wanted to know if I was in a show. "YES, MY DEARS. I'M THE GLITTERING STAR OF A MUSICAL PRODUCTION THAT WILL MAKE YOU SWOON, DANCE, SING, LAUGH AND FALL IN LOVE!!!", I whispered. For the next ten minutes the Americans and I were the best of friends talking about the Fringe and how excited they were to be going. They even bought four tickets to Gutted right there on their laptop right in front of me. What lovely people, I thought. "We're also going to see Emo Phillips". Charming. "And Jennifer Coolidge". Lovely. "And Idiots of Ants". You stupid cunts. But I couldn't hold it against them (I fucking could) because they had been so very, very nice. Nice Americans. Nice, cheery Americans.
Of course, this couldn't last. We finished our chat and I put my earphones in and listened to a podcast while doing a little reading. Not long passed when Daddy American started watching YouTube clips on his laptop. With no earphones. Letting the noise blare out for all to hear whether they wanted to or not.
Now what to do? I mean, these Americans are my friends. I can't just tell them to turn the laptop off. I can't just tell them that they're being rude. Oh, no. I'm wrong. I can do that and I did do that.
Well, reader, the atmosphere changed.
I was polite about it and could see that they felt awkward about it but it was still annoying to have that unnecessary noise on a train so I felt pretty justified. "You know, I did just buy four tickets to your show", said Daddy American but he wouldn't listen to my explanations of not wanting to hear a bunch of YouTube clips while trying to listen to Phil Wilding telling someone to fuck off. "You should have a bit more respect", he continued ironically. I decided to quit while I was behind and ignored him despite his repeated grumblings and repeated claims of looking forward to THAT show. All I'm saying is, book for Monday. I reckon four Americans will be booing every time I walk on. Mind you, I've always been prepared for that.
Gutted had it's first night last night. It went up 45 minutes late and it over ran by about 20 minutes. COOL! It was a great first go at it though and fun to have a new stage set with a moving stage. Be nice if they had told me it was a moving stage and not just let it scare the crap out of me when it happened. I was standing on it and nearly fell when it moved. What a fun first night that would have been if I'd knocked all my fucking teeth out. Luckily, I have an American coming on Monday night to do that for me. The shows been edited a bit now and a song has been dropped so that should help time-wise. Hopefully I remember my lines and cues from now on because I reckon that looked sticky last night.
So, Edinburgh has begun. Gutted and the first Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire both went really well so I feel Edinburgh has really begun. Well, it's sort of begun. I mean it doesn't really begin until you've been stuck with a wanker who keeps going on about their reviews or a man on stilts hands you a flyer for a play called Amanda's Last Winter Of The Vagina, a tale of loss and screaming starring The Aylesbury Youth Collective and directed by a baby. I haven't seen any dancers rehearsing in the street and no one has invited me to The Loft Bar so it's been pretty much cunt-free. Still, I've only been here 24hrs. It'll all happen soon. Speaking of 24hrs in Edinburgh, you'll probably want to know all about how my veganism is going. It's going great. No milk, no cheese, no animal products of any kind. Also, I haven't eaten anything. I am very hungry.
On Twitter please use the hashtags #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
Friday, 6 August 2010
Not Again.
I'm on the train on my way to Edinburgh so I will make this brief. I would have done a longer blog but this train is rammed with noisy, smelly bastards who desperately need a red- hot injection of disappointing theatre and noisy, smelly bastards who desperately believe in unachievable dreams and love throwing all their money on to a massive bonfire made of shit. It's the spirit of the Fringe.
So, I have made a few vows for this Edinburgh. The vegan thing that I mentioned in the last blog will start as soon as I get off this train which is why I am currently injecting myself with eggs and rubbing cheese into my hair. I'll miss that. But, I'll give it a go anyway. I also vow to blog every day. This should be relatively easy as my first show is at 2pm and then my other one is at 11.15pm. That's a fair bit of time to enjoy Tofu cheese, no booze and furious blogging. As long as my new diet frustrates me and people up here behave as normal, my blog should be as vitriolic as it was in 2008. Let's hope Toilet comes up.
My other vow has surprised even me. I promise to see more shows this year. Obviously, loads of people say that every year but I never have. I try to see as little as possible therefore not upsetting my eyes and making my brain vomit so that puke drips out my nose. The thing is, my utter snobbery has made sure that I have missed a lot (Ok, a few) great shows. So this year I'll be trying to see at the very least one show a day. That is an incredible step up from other years. I've already got my favourites in my head, and I recommend to you, that are An Hour Of Telly Live, Tim Vine, Stewart Lee, Colin Hoult, Caroline Mabey, Andrew O'Neill, Richard Herring, Andrew Collins, Richard Herring & Andrew Collins, Bennett Arron, Tara Flynn....erm...I'm sure there's more. You can recommend some to me if you like. I've also picked out my favourite worst sounding show of the Fringe (and, surprisingly, it's not Lights! Camera! Improv!) that I might go to see. Don't worry, it's not your show. Your show sounds....your show sounds nice.
It's the first night of Gutted tonight. My supporting cast have all been in Edinburgh since the beginning of the week, all rehearsing and perfecting their roles. I've been shouting at Robin Ince and watching Timelash. I might need a line run or something before the show. If they haven't replaced me, that is.
Gutted: A Revenger's Musical starring me and a bunch of cunts in a bag is on at the Assembly Rooms at 11.15. Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire starring me and a cunt in a bag starts tomorrow at 2pm at The GRV. Hope to see you there.
On Twitter please use #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
So, I have made a few vows for this Edinburgh. The vegan thing that I mentioned in the last blog will start as soon as I get off this train which is why I am currently injecting myself with eggs and rubbing cheese into my hair. I'll miss that. But, I'll give it a go anyway. I also vow to blog every day. This should be relatively easy as my first show is at 2pm and then my other one is at 11.15pm. That's a fair bit of time to enjoy Tofu cheese, no booze and furious blogging. As long as my new diet frustrates me and people up here behave as normal, my blog should be as vitriolic as it was in 2008. Let's hope Toilet comes up.
My other vow has surprised even me. I promise to see more shows this year. Obviously, loads of people say that every year but I never have. I try to see as little as possible therefore not upsetting my eyes and making my brain vomit so that puke drips out my nose. The thing is, my utter snobbery has made sure that I have missed a lot (Ok, a few) great shows. So this year I'll be trying to see at the very least one show a day. That is an incredible step up from other years. I've already got my favourites in my head, and I recommend to you, that are An Hour Of Telly Live, Tim Vine, Stewart Lee, Colin Hoult, Caroline Mabey, Andrew O'Neill, Richard Herring, Andrew Collins, Richard Herring & Andrew Collins, Bennett Arron, Tara Flynn....erm...I'm sure there's more. You can recommend some to me if you like. I've also picked out my favourite worst sounding show of the Fringe (and, surprisingly, it's not Lights! Camera! Improv!) that I might go to see. Don't worry, it's not your show. Your show sounds....your show sounds nice.
It's the first night of Gutted tonight. My supporting cast have all been in Edinburgh since the beginning of the week, all rehearsing and perfecting their roles. I've been shouting at Robin Ince and watching Timelash. I might need a line run or something before the show. If they haven't replaced me, that is.
Gutted: A Revenger's Musical starring me and a bunch of cunts in a bag is on at the Assembly Rooms at 11.15. Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire starring me and a cunt in a bag starts tomorrow at 2pm at The GRV. Hope to see you there.
On Twitter please use #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
Dairy Intolerance.
I may have made a big error.
Edinburgh is always a mistake on some level. You go up there with your very first solo show to play at The Pleasance Fucking Miles Away or the Guilded Balloon Asbestos Cupboard and realise that, instead of getting a four part Radio 4 series based on your theme of only falling in love with people who have the same name as characters from Mr. Benn, you have spent £8000 on being ignored except for one 17 year old who wrote on igotafreeticketthatididn'tfuckingdeserve.com that you are "a cunt". Luckily, I'm too jaded and cynical to ever fall for that sort of thing so I pretty much have to make my own mistakes and I definitely think I've make a doozie.
Stupidly, I said out loud that I thought I'd go Vegan for the whole of the Edinburgh Fringe.
Now, yes, you're right. I am bound to fail but I also think that I might as well try something new while I'm up there. It's not like I can do anything else that's healthy. The gym is a place that only egotistical, competitive look-at-me's go to and I'm going to get enough of that while I'm there and I can't give up booze. Ever tried talking to a comedian sober? Christ. What? A three-star review, you say? Read like a five? Yes, Frisky & Mannish have done well quickly. Of course, you deserve it more than them. You're writing a book? I have to go.
With that in mind, turning vegan for four weeks seems the only option. It's probably something I should be looking into anyway. I'm fairly confident there's a lot of ethical dairy farming in Britain but there's a lot of horrible things happening to cattle and chickens too. I sometimes don't know where my dairy stuff comes from so, hey, why not go without for a while and see what happens. Any help or advice would be gratefully received.
Robin Ince and I did our penultimate preview of Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire last night and I enjoyed it immensely. What an absolute treat to be doing a load of material I don't normally do, improvising with the audience and working with Robin. He is so much one of the very, very best stand-ups we have and he just gets better. Never tell him this. If he knows, he will become happy, content and shit. We have one more preview at the Roundhouse in Camden tomorrow night. Please come along. Book your tickets now. Last night's show was very well subscribed. Then we're both off to Edinburgh and our first show is at 2pm on the 7th at the GRV, Guthrie Street. To say the least, I'm excited.
Also, I'm in a musical. Don't forget that, OK? I'm in a fucking musical.
On Twitter, please use #pointlessanger or #guttedmusical
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
Edinburgh is always a mistake on some level. You go up there with your very first solo show to play at The Pleasance Fucking Miles Away or the Guilded Balloon Asbestos Cupboard and realise that, instead of getting a four part Radio 4 series based on your theme of only falling in love with people who have the same name as characters from Mr. Benn, you have spent £8000 on being ignored except for one 17 year old who wrote on igotafreeticketthatididn'tfuckingdeserve.com that you are "a cunt". Luckily, I'm too jaded and cynical to ever fall for that sort of thing so I pretty much have to make my own mistakes and I definitely think I've make a doozie.
Stupidly, I said out loud that I thought I'd go Vegan for the whole of the Edinburgh Fringe.
Now, yes, you're right. I am bound to fail but I also think that I might as well try something new while I'm up there. It's not like I can do anything else that's healthy. The gym is a place that only egotistical, competitive look-at-me's go to and I'm going to get enough of that while I'm there and I can't give up booze. Ever tried talking to a comedian sober? Christ. What? A three-star review, you say? Read like a five? Yes, Frisky & Mannish have done well quickly. Of course, you deserve it more than them. You're writing a book? I have to go.
With that in mind, turning vegan for four weeks seems the only option. It's probably something I should be looking into anyway. I'm fairly confident there's a lot of ethical dairy farming in Britain but there's a lot of horrible things happening to cattle and chickens too. I sometimes don't know where my dairy stuff comes from so, hey, why not go without for a while and see what happens. Any help or advice would be gratefully received.
Robin Ince and I did our penultimate preview of Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire last night and I enjoyed it immensely. What an absolute treat to be doing a load of material I don't normally do, improvising with the audience and working with Robin. He is so much one of the very, very best stand-ups we have and he just gets better. Never tell him this. If he knows, he will become happy, content and shit. We have one more preview at the Roundhouse in Camden tomorrow night. Please come along. Book your tickets now. Last night's show was very well subscribed. Then we're both off to Edinburgh and our first show is at 2pm on the 7th at the GRV, Guthrie Street. To say the least, I'm excited.
Also, I'm in a musical. Don't forget that, OK? I'm in a fucking musical.
On Twitter, please use #pointlessanger or #guttedmusical
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info
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