I’m eating condensed milk out of a tin. I think that makes me pretty digusting. There are only two types of people that can eat condensed milk out of tins and not be frowned upon. The first are orphans who have been evacuated from the Blitz in World War Two and its the first sugary ration they could get. The second are grannies. I am neither of those things. Although sometimes, if I’m a bit grubby and wearing a flat cap, people might think I’m a WW2 orphan. In fact its something I should try for Edinburgh funding. Im sure people would be more likely to help a misplaced poor child than a Tiernan who’s most dangerous experience was the time I set my own dressing gown arm on fire with the gas hob. Condensed milk is mental. I know its got sugar in it as well, but I really can’t believe that if you just left milk to do that it would go all sticky in consistancy. If you heat the tin in boiling water, it all become toffee. Yet if a cow stands in a field on a hot day, its udders don’t become Werther’s Orginals. Madness.
WARNING: NON-TWITTER USERS, THIS NEXT BIT MIGHT BE A BIT DULL OR CONFUSING. OR DULL AND CONFUSING. PRETEND ITS ABOUT YOUR SOCIAL NETWORKING MEDIA OF CHOICE. IF YOU CHOOSE MYSPACE, PLEASE BEAR IN MIND ITS 2009.
I feel a bit brain-dead after last night. I ran the Twitter Comedy Night just from my little laptop at home, when what I needed was one of those mega multi screen walls, like in Watchmen, or Spiderman and his Amazing Friends, when they made Peter’s bedroom turn into a base. It was amazing how all that happened and Aunt May never noticed the whirring sound of machines and computers. Especially as it was the 80s. Those computers would’ve been huge. How did she not notice the builders installing them when the moved in? So many questions, so few answers. I had about 5 different windows up at once, going from my Twitter page, the Tweetcomedyclub twitter page, the hashtag stream, and my gmail chat to James who was doing all the web stuff. There were times when I felt like cackling maniacally and saying things like ‘I can see everything mwahahahah’, but it would’ve annoyed Layla who was watching TV. That was the very odd thing about the gig. Aside from all the idiots who kept using the hashtag, and heckling, I was at home being heckled in 3D by our TV and my cats wanting attention. Had the RSPCA arrived to see my sitting on my computer pushing my hand into Rosie (our cat)’s face to stop her from walking on the keyboard as she mieowed loudly, I think I’d have been in trouble. Then there was the short period of time where Layla’s mum rang up and she tried to explain what it was I was doing. The mere concept of Twitter, which Layla herself doesn’t use or really get, took over 10 minutes to try and explain. This was then followed by further madness when the concept of a comedy gig on it came into play. I dealt with all these real life distractions by sitting so close to the computer it felt like it might absorb me leading to hilarious lawnmower man type consequences with monkeys and phones ringing. And monkeys ringing phones, which would be the best thing ever. I would always answer cold calls if I knew there was the possibility of a monkey on the other end. In fact I would probably buy what they were selling too. Unless it was their entire works of Shakespeare as I know it wouldn’t be finished for ages and the slave labour in making it with a million monkeys is just terrible.
If I had had the powers of lawnmower man, I would have used them to go round deleting all the idiots that ruined last night’s show. All the people that insisted on using the #tcgig hashtag even though they weren’nt onstage and therefore blocking the stream of jokes. It was the virtual equivalent of lots of drunk twats jumping on stage. I saw that happen at a Stewart Lee show once. He dealt with it brilliantly, but it made me so angry. People dont do it for any other performance medium. No one walks across stage at the Opera or the Theatre. God forbid if someone did it to Derren Brown. That I would like to see. The worst last night was when people where telling others not to use the hashtag and then putting the hashtags into their tweets to say not to use it! Idiots! The hecklers were a pain, but we had sort of asked for them. Problem was we only had a certain tweet limit so couldn’t reply to them. The tweet limit was an odd factor too. I’ve never done a real gig and suddenly found myself unable to speak because I had ran out of words. There are some acts I wish this would happen to though.
All in all it appears people liked it and we know that at least 6000 people viewed which is the biggest gig I’ve ever done. Highlights for me were Pappy’s Fun Club’s pictures, Mitch Benn’s Twitehemian Rhapdsody, and Terry’s link to the Serg Gainsborg track. I was also very pleased hours later when I found out 50 Cent, Lily Allen and Demi Moore had all been sent my celeb tweet hit and runs at least 200 odd times each. I am a tad scared 50 will come to get me, or worse, that Lily Allen get a bit sad. I actually like Lily. Well her music that is. I haven’t actually met her, she might be a twat. Of course even if she isn’t, now that she’s had 200 tweets insulting her all from me, she might not come across too friendly. The whole thing will be transcripted on www.twittercomedy.co.uk in the next few days and there should some further press too. Glad it happened and now I need to spend two days not looking at computers again. To be fair if I keep eating this condensed milk I may not be able to see anything ever again as my blood sugars get so high my eyes explode.
Its Fat Tuesday again tonight. Two of my very favourite comics, Zoe Lyons and Jon Richardson, doing their Edinburgh previews. It should be awesome. If anyone turns up. That may sound pessimistic to you, but TFL have only gone and decided that of all the times to have a FUCKING TUBE STRIKE, they will do it tonight at 7pm. Thanks very much TFL. Its quite alright to strike about lack of pay, but they are robbing a small WW2 orphan boy of possible Edinburgh dosh. Lets see how that helps their cause. I’m going to send pictures of me covered in coal soot and looking ill to Bob Crow until he refunds me.
Should any of you be brave enough to bus, walk, pogo, fly or roll toward Fat Tuesday, tickets are still on sale at www.wegottickets.com. Hopefully see some of you there if I havent crashed out in a dribbling condensed milk mess.
