I’m going to back to my university today. Not in a hilarious-but-actually-sick-inducing teen movie type way where an older man goes back to his uni pretending to be young again, until the police realise and the whole film become far more sinister. No, instead I’m going to do a Q and A session with this year’s Drama students who are studying stand-ups. That’s right. Who’d have thought that all my years of farting about since leaving higher education have somehow lead me to become an example for others? No one did. Not even me. Or you. I’m slightly worried that I will get there and I’ll be made to stand up in front of everyone as my old lecturers take it in turns to ask the audience what’s wrong with this picture, before telling them that that’s what can happen if it all goes wrong or you don’t try hard enough or say prayers before bed or something. It won’t be like that at all. I’m actually really looking forward to it although I’m conscious that I mustn’t go into all the bad points of stand-up, such as hours of lonely driving, not receiving pay for months and nearly getting punched in the face on stage. Instead I need to present a positive outlook on why this job is brilliant. Although if I make it sound too good, they’ll all do it and become competition, so I need to find a balance. I’m going for answering everything with ‘yeah…its alright I suppose’ before then looking like I might cry a bit. I think that’s a winner.
I’m pretty nervous about going back to the Kent Uni campus after all these years. Haven’t been there since at least 2003, and its still laden with student based memories. What this means is that the second I set foot on site, I’ll look round at all the very young people I don’t know and instantly feel old. It used to be that you would say hello to loads of other students you knew and a you could stomp around like it was your manor. There’s that bit I fell over drunk in, there’s that place I got rejected by that girl, there’s that bit I sat bored as everyone had gone home for the weekend except me. Sigh, good times. Today I’ll just be looking at all these places feeling how long ago it all really was. Maybe I should head straight for the bar and try and relive my youth before eating a pot noodle. Luckily the day is bookended with a gig for company types, which is usually an indicator of a bad gig. While they all stare at me and probably demand racist/sexist/boss based material, I’ll suddenly remember that my uni days are long long over.
I watched X-Factor last night. It was the first time I’ve really watched it since this series started. Its been on in the background before, while Layla watches it and I work. I haven’t really paid attention though and instead just used the sound of false hope and then abject disappointment to write jokes. I find it really helps. So it was interesting to finally see all the things the media has been banging on about. Jedward for example. I’d never witnessed the kids from the Munsters doing anything before but there it was in all its glory. All I could think was ‘God aren’t the British public cruel?’ I mean how long will everyone allow them to stay in the competition? Its completely detrimental to their lives. The longer they are lied to that they deserve to be there, the longer they will keep the beetlejuice haircuts, dance around like puppets controlled by drunks and sing like dogs trapped in a cage. They’ll then get through to final and/or get a record deal and just as they spend loads of money realising a single, the public will drop them and tell them just what six piles of horse shit they are, letting them fail miserably. That’s just horrible. But reading it back, bloody funny. Lets do it. I reckon it could completely break them and at least one of them will commit suicide and the other will always feel like half of them is dead. Fingers crossed team. Fingers crossed.
Thing is, they were not the only horror story that’s been allowed a temporary 10 mins of fame. Stacey Soloman is truly remarkable. When I say remarkable I mean ‘a mega fucking idiot’. If she’s not putting it on then I suggest someone quietly removes her from the show and puts her in a Ken Loach film. There really is no place for her. Unless the show turns nasty and just uses her to play nasty tricks. I like the idea that one week they move the studios somewhere else but don’t tell her. That’s a show. Generally all of them were twats, and I watched as one after the other, they were given fake attention, each trapped in the delusion that this show might get them somewhere. God I hope they stop making these shows one day. Or at least make a ‘where are they know?’ for every series so we can watch as that dude with the afro sits in tears spending his days cleaning windows or getting money as a male whore.