It has dawned on me that this is the 1005th blog that I’ve written since the end of 2008. Quite a number, and more impressive when I realise just how much shit I’ve typed away meaninglessly for free on the inter webs. I doubt any of you have read all 1005, but if you have, well done and I’m sorry for informing you you probably should have had something better to do. For any who’ve consistently read them for many a month or year then well done to you too. I have no idea what I should do to commemorate such a number of entries that all seem to amount to nothing but if any of you have any ideas then please let me know. Maybe I’ll make a special entry combining all my favourite words over the last 3 years. Or not. Anyway continuing the theme that started way back when, here’s two things I need to get off my chest. They aren’t literally on my chest or I’d find it hard to breathe somewhat and probably wouldn’t be able to type this up. Should any of you want me to celebrate my 1k of blogs by putting things on my chest and typing then again, let me know. Gooooo Blog!
MOMEDY / CUSIC
You know why people are allowed a choice between seeing a comedy night or a music night on a night out? Why venues seem to specify which type of cultural artistic venture they will be holding on their stage? Its because the two don’t mix. Sure you get musical comedians. Sure you get funny musicians. But ultimately, unless its a televised event where people are forced to be quiet for some poor ITV attempt at reviving the days of musical hall, then the two go together like chalk and someone who hates chalk and wants to smash it with a hammer. Its not that people can’t be fans of both, but more that different things are required from audiences depending on what they’re watching. Those watching comedy are needed to be seated, quiet and generally (though not at always the case) up for listening and laughing. Those watching music however, due to the volume and nature of the show, often like standing up and talking to each other throughout. Outside noise isn’t usually a problem unless its a particularly quiet gig, and there is far less than can make a music gig go wrong outside of shit sound equipment. I’m sure musicians would argue the oppose and there is half a ton of stuff I don’t know about but I am merely a stand-up who harbours dreams of rock stardom and thusly has no real clue.
Last night however did very prove the theory that comedy and music do not momedy make. My job was to host an event that featured first a quiz, then an hour of comedy from myself and Phil Nichol, followed by two bands then some DJs. An excellent sounding idea, but when it came to it, post quiz, the audience was very much in a music state of mind. Most of them were not sitting in the few chairs provided, eyes were not focussed on the stage and the chatter was loud enough to deafen a monitor lizard (they don’t have ears fact fans). It took a 5 minute warning from myself, and the two promoters just to get some of them to pay attention before I could go onstage. It wasn’t terrible and I seemed to entertain the 30 people that were watching, but the 100+ that weren’t overshadowed it and I felt like I’d lose my voice if I shouted any louder. Phil then went on and did great despite the odds, but he is a brilliant loud man with more energy than a monitor lizard (I don’t know if they have much energy or not, but I bet Phil has more).
Its nobody’s fault but the audiences. Why people aren’t versatile to sit up and down all evening adapting to the performance I don’t know. I can’t believe they don’t want to cut chat short or stop dancing to listen to someone tell gags, having to pause drinking while the bar is closed when they have planned to go out, and get battered to loud music. How dare they hey? Or you know, maybe, more likely we should stick to telling funnies in the right environment and let the rock stars kick over drum kits without us getting in the way. Momedy is dead. Love live momedy.
Today is Black Cat Awareness Day. I know. I thought it was someone having me on on Twitter, but no, its really true. Have a look:
It seems people are lessing willing to adopt black cats than any other type, as though its some sort of terrible feline racial segregation. I honestly can’t believe its to do with superstition, is it? I mean, does anyone worry about that sort of thing anymore? Even if they do, they haven’t researched properly as in the UK and Ireland, black cats are meant to be good luck and in fact in Japan its believed that any woman who owns one is meant to get many suitors. So any of you lovely ladies out there, grab yourself a black cat and get ready I say. Pretty much every folklore about black cats is good with only pirates saying that if one walks towards you, its bad luck. But if they walk away from you, it was good luck. I suggest you still get a black cat if these things worry you and just constantly keep it on a travelator facing away from you. You’ll be rich in days.
I had a black Persian cat as a kid. Her name was Claws and she was one year older than me living to the grand old age of 19 human years. A beautiful cat she also very much played the part of being tolerant to kids. I would walk her round by her tail, I’d sit on her as a sofa cushion, use her as a ‘living island’ for my He-Man toys to play on and cover her in playing cards. She would lie there all content, purring away while such abuse continued. Every time we returned from holiday she would have about 18 rats lying side by side in the garden, their severed heads lying next to them as she stood proud as if to say ‘present for you!’ My dad would then sigh as all his relaxed post holiday demeanour disappeared as he had to bury another load of rat skeletons in the garden.
So yeah. Get a black cat. If nothing else every time someone you don’t like goes to your door you can throw catnip at them and watch as your cat walks towards them instantly giving them bad luck. Win.
In addendum, here’s some silly things I’ve done:
SOUNDS OF THE 70s – 3 (Radio 2 voice by @GirlCalledLeila)