Wheely Awful.

I don't want to keep going on about this but I'm just so touched by the gesture that I'm not quite over it yet. My (tiny) illness is pretty much all gone now and I can't help but put it down to the nice things people do for you when you're ill. I mentioned Nobby in the last blog but I'm going to thank him again. It was just so nice to hear that audience shout "Get well soon" and it has given me a huge buzz ever since. Not only that it has shown me that there is more to Nobby that starting fights with people who have Leukaemia. He has such a tough geezer image but he's actually a very caring and thoughtful man. It was a lovely thing to do and I'm deeply touched.

Now the bad stuff....

I would never start a fight with a woman who has leukaemia, unlike some people, but apparently I can start fights with the disabled and the elderly. Great.

You be the judge, OK? YOU BE THE JUDGE. Have I done anything wrong? You tell me (better yet, keep it to yourself). I was happily on my way to the Los Quattros Cvnts rehearsal and waiting on the platform at Ladywell station was, for once, a pleasure. I knew that I was on my way to have fun working with the funniest people I know so standing on this grey, rainy platform was just a tiny blip on what would be an otherwise lovely day. The train pulled up and the doors opened and my shit day screamed Hello at me.

A girl, somewhere in her late teens, was sat in her wheelchair right at the door. She was sideways to the door. Not facing it or with her back to it so people could walk past her easily but sideways on. It was embarrassing as I basically had to step over her. Not my happiest moment and I'm pretty sure she didn't get anything out of it either.

Because of this really awkward moment, I hadn't noticed that she was listening to very loud music on her Mp3 player. No earphones, just letting it blast so that we can all enjoy her shitty, shitty taste in noise. I sat quite near her and looked around to see if anyone else looked like they were upset by the music. They didn't seem to be but then they never do. People are too scared to simply ask someone to turn their music off but I am not. Well, normally I'm not. This time I was. I'd never asked a girl in a wheelchair to turn her music off before and I realised that as soon as I would do it everyone in the world would hate me. She could be a Gulf hero, for fuck's sake. Someone who has fought for our freedom to upset everyone on a train. If she doesn't play Cheryl Cole loudly on the Hayes line to Charing Cross then the terrorists have won, etc. I really thought about it for a while. I mean, so what if she's in a wheelchair. She's a human being who is obviously in full control of her mentality (Cheryl Cole not withstanding), I should be able to ask her for some courtesy in the same way that I would to anyone else.

I checked with people on Twitter just in case.

Turns out that people on Twitter are fucking idiots because they all suggested that I just ask her to switch her music off, the fucking 140 character cunts. I turned to the young lady and said "Excuse me, would you mind switching your music off, please? It's a bit distracting. Thank you".

She screwed up her face and said "No". I was fucked really, wasn't I?

"It's just that this is a public place and I don't want to listen to your music so can you please turn it off?", I reasoned behind fury.

"I'm not switching it off".

"I'm pretty sure no-one on the train wants to hear your music. It's very inconsiderate".

That's when a man, who could beat me up, stood up and put his face very close to mine and said "Leave her alone".

I was confused more than worried. Who the fuck could defend someone playing loud music on a train? Wheelchair or no wheelchair? Who the fuck is this gut? Her care assistant?

"I'm just asking her to switch her music off. I'm not being rude", I said.

"Just leave her alone", he replied. "I'm her care assistant".

I was right. He was still very close to me when I tried reasoning directly with her again. He wasn't having it.

"Can you leave her alone now?", he said, very firmly.

I thought long and hard about my reply before stupidly saying "No, I can't". That got me nowhere. We talked in circles for a while and I just gave up and sat back in my seat. The girl in the wheelchair gave me a smile that sarcastically suggested she had won.

She had not won. Not yet anyway.

I took the earphones out of my iPod and played it loudly for all to hear. I even held it in my hand in the girl in the wheelchair's direction so she could get the full benefit. That's when other people in the carriage decided to hate me.

Some people shouted at me to turn my iPod off. "Annoying, isn't it?", I said to the girl in the wheelchair. A man told me that I was embarrassing myself (true but by now I was beyond caring) and others were giving me advice from "Wise up" to "Grow up". Advice I've heard a billion times and it still hasn't sunk in. I argued back that I thought the girl in the wheelchair should also turn her music off and was met with various leave-her-alone's. The totally pathetic part was that while she was listening to loud music I was listening to a podcast on a tinny speaker that you could barely hear but it was enough to upset these people on the train. It was the Collings & Herrin Podcast, to be precise and while I was being shouted at it was a tiny victory to heard Andrew Collins plug the Los Quattros Cvnts gig at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, they'll all come along to the shows next week.

I sheepishly, and pathetically, switched my iPod off and looked out the window, defeated. This whole thing lasted no more than two minutes but it was enough to upset me for the rest of the day even though it was basically my fault. I didn't start it or finish it. I just did the upsetting middle bit. As I got off the train, the girl in the wheelchair gave me another sarcastic smile as I climbed over her. Fucker. Why couldn't she benevolent and just like Ironside instead of evil and annoying like Davros?

I left the train station hating all ramps.

The bad stuff was far from over though. I got off the tube at Brixton and before getting the bus to Streatham I thought I'd pop into WH Smith. I grabbed a magazine and got in the queue. I knew I was in the queue because I know what a queue looks like. It was a line of people and I joined it at the end. Some other people then started queuing behind me. I was in the queue. I had been in the queue for a minute now, I reckon.

That's when a very old woman appeared.

"You took my place. Move over", she charmed.

"Excuse me?", I said.

"I was in here. You took my place"

This would normally never be a problem but she was rude. I'd already lost to a cripple, I'm fucked if the nearly-dead are going to beat me.

"Do you mean, 'Excuse me, please, but would you mind letting me in in front of you? I had been in the queue before but stepped away to get something. Sorry for the inconvenience.'?"

"This is my place".

I ignored her. That was stupid because she then started pushing me. Brilliant. I was going to have to fight an old woman. Dignity? Never heard of it....

"Look, this is my place. It isn't a very long queue. If you'd been nice about it I'd have let you in but you were rude. I'm sorry but I'm not letting you in."

A man in front turned and said "I've been in the queue 5 minutes. She wasn't there before". This was good news but I really didn't need another community of rage today. She got angry.

"I am 92. You should have some respect. You will be 92 one day", she grumped. "You should know better".

Well, considering I'm 41, queuing up to buy Doctor Who Magazine and have just started a fight with a crippled child I think it's fair to never ever consider what I should know. She walked to the back of the queue and continually said the word Bastard. Yeah, I'm a pillar of the community.

I finally got to Jeremy's house and we recorded a special Los Quattros Cvnts Sodcast to be put up as part of The Trap's Sodcast (thetrap.co.uk or iTunes) and later as a one-off Precious Little Podcast (preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk or iTunes) as well as working on the sketches. I'm really looking forward to these shows. They're going to be great. Just in case you've forgotten they're at The Phoenix, Cavendish Square, London on the 17th & 18th at 8pm. It costs just £6 to get in and it's a bargain because not only are we on but on the 17th we have Andrew Collins and Jason Manford and on the 18th we have Rich Fulcher. Don't miss these shows. You'd be a fool. And get there early because we want you to get in.

www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk

Save Michael.

I'm feeling a lot better now. And that's bad. As much as I don't like being ill, what goes along with being ill is fantastic. Pity rocks!

Once again I had to cancel a gig yesterday. It's the third in a row this week. That part I don't like. Along with the snot and sweat and basically shuffling around in a pathetic way isn't much fun either but it is nice to look on Twitter and find messages from people wishing me good health. That's very nice. And on Facebook. And texts too. All wishing me a speedy recovery from what is, basically, nothing. I even got a text from a friend of mine who is still recovering from a car accident. SHE texted ME to see if I was OK. Even worse, that was two days ago and I haven't even replied to thank her for her concern. God, I'm a tool. The thing is, I love the attention when I'm ill but I'm very aware that I don't deserve it. I'm like Ferris Bueller and his sister all rolled into one. When Nobby phoned me last night and got the audience at the gig I just pulled to shout "Get Well Soon" I felt like a big faker. Albeit a big, smug, happy faker.

The good thing is that I've had more time to spend on Los Quattros Cvnts and shouting at the television. Mainly, shouting at the television. The show is coming along nicely and I'm very happy to say that we are only using two things from our Real Daniel O'Donnell Show days. One because it sets up another new sketch plus another that is BY FAR our least popular sketch ever. When we performed it over a year ago at RDOD it got nothing. Not a single laugh. That was all the inspiration we needed to do it again.

There is some bad news and some good news about the first Los Quattros Cvnts show on the 17th. Richard Herring can't make it as he's on Never Mind The Buzzcocks now, which I think is a fair enough excuse (I wouldn't have stood for it if it was Mock The Week) and so we had to find a replacement. But who could replace him? Someone that Richard would see as his equal, someone he respects, someone he admires even. Easy. His wife. So, Andrew Collins will now be joining us that night, I'm very happy to say. But that's not all! We also have more stand-up comedy from the fantastic......well, we're not allowed to say who yet. It's a secret.

These gigs are going to be a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to a day of writing and rehearsing today. To be honest, I'm just looking forward to leaving the house. Join us at The Phoenix, Cavendish Square, London on the 17th and 18th at 8pm. Tickets are available ONLY on the door so get there early. More details to come.

www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk

Sick Note.

It's crap being ill. No energy to do anything and everything is annoying or hard to do. I've been trying my best to pretend there's nothing wrong but the amount of ooze dripping out my nose or hacking up in my throat makes a good argument.

Work is starting to go smoothly (sort of) on Los Quattros Cvnts. We're 6 days away from the show and we have about half the sketches done plus another billion ideas, most of which revolve around kicking a talking cake to death. That's entertainment in my book. Still got lots of work to do and that'll probably take up all my time until Tuesday. Make sure you come along. It's at The Phoenix, Cavendish Square, London and you can buy tickets on the door (no booking, I'm afraid) on the 17th & 18th of this month. Shows start at 8 but make sure you get there early. We want you to get in OK. Now all we have to do is write it, rehearse it, realise we don't like it, completely re-write it, shit ourselves because it's the day of the show, completely re-write it again and then, finally, completely re-write it. It's going to be hard work the next few days but at least I've got my health.

Oh.

To be honest, I should be working on the show right now but instead I appear to be sitting in my pants, writing a blog and watching/singing along to the film Chicago. Right. Let's go to work.

Oh, before that.....look at how beautiful this is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwahIQz0o-M&feature=player_embedded

www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk

Come On.

DEAREST BLOGGER-USER,

I'VE BEEN TOLD THAT THERE IS A SCROLLING PROBLEM WITH MY BLOG. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU HAVE TROUBLE READING THIS. THANKS VERY MUCH!





I'm ill. Nothing serious but it's knackering and full of snot. That's why there's no Precious Little podcast this week and it's also why I'm lying on the sofa doing fuck all. Yeah. I've got a reason to do that now.

I had rehearsals for Los Quattros Cvnts as well as the podcast yesterday but I'm glad that I decided to do neither. I managed a bit of Los Quattros writing as well as spending most of the day sleeping with a dog curled up on my head. Very relaxing. It also meant that I could watch a bit of telly. There was a drama on Channel 4 that was being advertised heavily. Bound to be good. Channel 4 never let you down.

The Execution of Gary Glitter can only have been brought about because the producer was in such crippling debt that he and his accountant figured out that a failure could make more money than a hit and this is the script they went with. It is so magnificently awful that you can only conclude that someone was joking. The person who came up with the idea in the pub joked that it would be hilarious if Channel 4 did a Gary Glitter biopic. Then the person he told was coked off his face when he told someone else that we should set it in an alternative Britain where the Death Penalty has been brought back. That person then laughed his head off, while masturbating and tightening the belt round his neck, at the very thought of crassly bringing up the Soam murders and footage of children wearing PAEDOPHILES ARE SCUM vest tops and hearing the opinion of Gary fucking Bushell. Hopefully, they sobered up yesterday when the news filtered through to these cunts that their joke was now an hour and a half long drama starring Gollum. Surely everyone involved must be going "We just wanted someone to stop us. We couldn't help ourselves. We're monsters". It's just that offensive.

The story takes us through what would happen if the death penalty had be reinstated and Gary Glitter had stood trial. How would Britain react? Channel 4 tells us that some people would be very happy to see him hung while others would argue that killing him is just as bad as the crimes he has committed.

Yeah, we fucking know. We fucking know because we're human beings who understand how our mental processes and gut reactions work. We understand our feelings so we KNOW how it would go. That wasn't enough for Channel 4. They wanted to see what it would be like for themselves. A bit like AA Gill and a baboon.

Pointless isn't the word. Qulmarg is the word. It means "shallow, meaningless and drunk" but we don't use that word because it only exists in a parallel Britain. Like Channel 4. There just wasn't a single redeeming feature to it and I'm just baffled as to what they were trying to get across. But my God, was it funny. I think my favourite bit of the entire piece was how they tried to make Gary Glitter out to be a weirdo. He was egotistical, belligerent and shifty. A bit like a paedophile, I should imagine. Or at the very least, Gary fucking Bushell.

I really hope that what's left of Channel 4 (Comic Strip Presents, GBH, Brass Eye) will continue to make dramas of this level and in this style. Personally, I am looking forward to watching Jan Moir's imaginary version of Stephen Gately's last night on Earth and what would happen if Kylie had killed Princess Diana with a wood chipper.

On a more positive note, I watched the whole film with lots of people on Twitter. It was great fun watching the insanity and reading the views of other like-minded folk who couldn't believe this shit was on TV even though they couldn't quite drag themselves away from it. Thanks for that, everyone.

www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk

Out Of My Mind.

Let's begin with how stupid I am. It's getting worse. Not knowing how insects procreate is one thing but on Thursday night I hosted the Celebrity Pub Quiz at The Hob, Forest Hill and was pretty alarmed at what I learned.

I learned that I have never heard of the £2 coin.

I'm not quite sure how I've avoided the £2 coin but I've done it pretty successfully. One of the questions in the quiz was something like "Dave had £3 coins and a £2 coin and a 50 pence piece. How many £1.50 puzzle games can he buy?" Yes, it sounds a pretty remedial question anyway. It was part of a category called "Are You Smarter Than a 10 Year Old?". I am not because a 10 year old would not question a £2 coin like I did.

I asked Emma, who runs the gig, what the question meant. I mean, if Dave has three pound coins and two pound coins....well, that's just not good grammar, I thought. But Emma pointed out that it was 3 pound coins and a £2 coin. Then I decided to come across as thick.

"What's a £2 coin?", I said.

An hour went by as she stared at me with a level of pity mainly reserved for a really old animal that needs to be put down. She then showed me a £2 coin. I've never seen one. They must be new.

They're not new. They've been in circulation since 1998. I'm 11 years behind the rest of Britain. Now everywhere I go I see the £2 coin. It's on Train Ticket machines and snack dispensers and peep shows. The whole country has gone £2 crazy!

I MUST have seen a £2 coin before. I MUST have! How can a man avoid a fucking coin? This obviously means that I have a problem keeping memories and there may be something wrong with my brain. That's fine. I'd rather be broken than be thick. I'm bored of being thick. I've been thick for ages. I really hope that one half of my brain has just shut down and I'm slowly dying because I don't think I can take any more of this me being thick thing. It's depressing.

Speaking of depressing, on Friday night I performed, for the first time, in front of Jim Davidson. He was standing at the back of Jongleurs in Glasgow being racist and hating women, I assume, with his bouncer who stands beside him making sure that no-one gets in to Jim Davidson. I'm very wary a big, evil mainstream stands at the back of a gig watching us 41 year old youngsters riffing some political vitriol and changing some minds because they often go to comedy clubs to steal jokes. That is naughty. But Jim didn't write a single thing down during his stay which is even worse. Imagine not being good enough to be nicked by Jim Davidson. Embarrassing.

Luckily, the fucking awful cunt only caught the very end of the show so we didn't feel too bad about walking on stage and risking entertaining Jim Davidson. Plus Mandy Knight was in her last five minutes when he arrived and I doubt there's many of her gags about being fucked up the arse that Jim could use during his many, big-hearted gigs for our troops that he does every fucking day. I was compering so if you ever see Jim Davidson on stage thanking three comedians and then saying goodnight, he got that from me.

The weekend in Glasgow was great. I spent most of my time being all drunk. The few sober moments were spent doing the actual gigs and watching The Awful Balloon of Captain Twat (I honestly can't remember the name of the new Terry Gilliam film) and really enjoyed it. I tried to see Up (which I just know I will loathe) but it was sold out. The Awful Balloon of Captain Twat was the only thing on and I'm really glad I saw it. I'm long past the spectacle of Terry Gilliam's films. I love his imagination but his characters and stories are dull. This film is patchy but very enjoyable. Tom Waits is fantastic. I sat in the freezing cold cinema thinking what a wonderful film it was until 5 minutes from the end when Colin Farrell was on top of Lily Cole and forcing her to the ground. I remembered. I'm supposed to be boycotting this film. Terry Gilliam is one of the many, many Hollywood cunts who signed the petition asking for rapist Roman Polanski's release from prison because he is old and his wife died in the 60's. Good to see I have morals if not a memory.

£2 coins. Rape. It's all the same to me.

www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk

Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey.

For all those concerned, Jerk was great yesterday. There were so many fireworks that she stopped hearing them after a while. Of course, she was chillaxing while taking hits from da bong. Well, Rescue Remedy anyway. It's great. It makes dogs very mellow. I thought I'd give it a try myself but the taste made me furious. I'm the same with Radox. The smell just irritates me and I get all cross and I can't relax. Then I light some candles but that just makes things worse because now I'm grumpy and sitting in the smelly dark.

I had a second visit to the doctors in a week yesterday. My feet are being completely childish. They are refusing to accept my blood circulation which means I can't take any salt for a while and have to put my feet up as often as I can. I'm so fine with this. I don't like salt (especially Radox Bath Salt) and I love doing fuck not nothing. Unfortunately, my examination went on a lot longer than I thought and I was late for a voiceover that I was doing in central London. I ran all the way to the train station (which did me no good. It hurt my feet and I look like a twat when I run) and got to the studio two minutes early. I'm so obsessed with being on time that being two minutes early is actually late to me.

When I arrived I was given a script. One of the lines I had to say was "I want a good sports package". This would test my acting ability to it's limits. I sat down with the three other people who were also recording their voices to sell broadband and telly. The first person I met was Elizabeth (I think) who looked like a tiny wee hippy chick but had the voice of a dominatrix. She was nice. The second was Russell Tovey, the actor who plays the werewolf in Being Human. He was also in an episode of Doctor Who. a really shit episode of Doctor Who but it still impressed me. I introduced myself to him with a very uncomplicated "Hello. I'm Michael". "Michael Legge?", he replied.

This made me so happy that my feet cured themselves and I started elevating about three inches off my seat. Russell Tovey, the actor I wanted to be the next Doctor, knows who I am. This is very exciting. He's probably read my blog, right? I mean, who doesn't? Perhaps he's one of the intimate few who subscribe to Precious Little. No. I know what it is. He's seen me on Street-Cred Sudoku four years ago. That show meant a hell of a lot to a hell of a lot. Anyway, he had seen my name on the list at reception when he arrived and he was all excited because he has a friend called Michael Legge who was in Angela's Ashes and is the bane of my fucking life. I deflate easily and as I was crumpling to the ground I was introduced to the third person at our table. Her name was Lucy. Lucy Gaskell. Lucy Gaskell who played the part of Kathy Nightingale in Blink, widely considered to be the best ever episode of Doctor Who (not mine, though I think it's excellent). Fuck Russell and his imposter Michael Legge. Lucy was in a proper Doctor Who, not a children's episode.

FUCKING BRILLIANT! This could only be beaten by Sally Sparrow turning up. Or an angry statue.

The voiceover was tricky. They wanted me to be shouty, friendly, aggressive and happy. I tried to point out that you can't be all four at once but they were having none of it. Every take was greeted with "Can you be lighter next time, Michael?" or "More firm and direct. Punch the words". It wasn't the words I wanted to punch. Luckily, Lucy from BLINK had gone. She had done her work in as many takes as me but at least she looked like it didn't bother her. Elizabeth (I think) did it in two takes. I think her voice was making the guy at the sound desk horny and he couldn't take anymore. Which left just me and Russell. I'm glad Russell asked me to go first because otherwise how would he know that the original Michael Legge is completely incompetent at reading out loud.

He was very nice though.

After Jerk had calmed down last night, I went to host the excellent Celebrity Pub Quiz at The Hob, Forest Hill. At the corner of the bar I saw a man who looked the absolute double of Nicholas Briggs, the man who does the voices of the Daleks and Cybermen in new Doctor Who. I turned to Emma, who runs the gig, and said "Wow. That man is the absolute double of Nicholas Briggs, the man who does the voices of the Daleks and Cybermen in new Doctor Who". Emma made her excuses and walked away.

www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk

Fawkes Off.

I don't like today. November the 5th is always a shit day, especially the last four of them.

It should be good. You should be lighting sparklers and eating toffee apples (although they are vomit inducing) and watching V For Vendetta. That sounds like fun. But then fireworks are involved and that's when the fun ends. God, I hate fireworks.

I've always hated fireworks. Firstly, they play havoc with your memory. Every single fucking tedious year a nearby firework display promises excitement and wonder and every single fucking tedious year I believe them. Stupid Legge. Firework displays are only half-interesting for the first three minutes then you soon catch on as to how repetitive it all is. Yes, yes, yes. Whizzy red, poppy blue then massive sparkly gold. And repeat until it's all over. Oh, and maybe a catherine wheel that you won't be able to see because everyone has brought there entire family to show you how fertile they all are. Very impressive.

But it's the noise that gets me. The noise of both the fireworks and the people watching. How the fuck can you still oooooooh at something you also saw 25 seconds ago? For the 18th time? Plus they go bang. Who can find BANG fun?

Plus they just used to scare me. When I was a kid I talked and talked about going to a firework display so much that my parents, knowing fully well that I would hate it, gave in and took me to one. As soon as we got there I started screaming to be taken home. The noise was terrifying and I got it inside my head that one of the fireworks would land on me and I would go up in flames. I preferred indoor fireworks like The Snake. At least it would only slowly and gently put you to sleep (forever) with it's fumes, it wouldn't melt your eyes to your anorak hood (I really thought that).

And they terrify the crap out of Jerk. She shakes like she's on the top of an old washing machine when a firework goes off. She shat on the living room floor on Monday night. I think I now know what happened.

So, please, if you must let a firework off tonight at least put a sock over it to muffle the noise. As I write about 50 have gone off and Jerk is practically standing on me and vibrating my face. Guy Fawkes would be turning in his grave if he knew what you were doing to Jerk, I imagine.

www.twitter.com/michaellegge
www.preciouslittlepodcast.co.uk