Real Pirates

After I finish this blog I have to deal with the washing up. Its been there for days and there are things in it I’m not sure of. Its possible some of them could have become animate. Although it smells more like something has died in the sink. I hate washing up. Its one of my least favourite things to do. I have a large list of things I really don’t like doing and that list has just got longer as I’ve got older. Some of the other items on the list are trivial things such as being asked who else is going to a party, going to a party where I don’t like anyone and leaving my flat to go to a party. Other items are easily avoidable like radishes and talking to people at urinals. Then there are the ‘unlikely to happen but if they did I wouldn’t like doing it’ things, such as bungee jumping, fighting a bear and having lunch with Carol McGiffin. Washing up however remains high on my list of least favourites. I often feel envious of Mickey Mouse in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice for his magical cleaning abilities, or all the tiniest Cat In The Hat who could clean things in an instant. If I had either of them as my cleaner my life would be easier. Until Mickey did all that craziness with the mops which would ruin our carpet. And until all the tiny Cat In The Hats messed things up and caused havoc which wouldn’t help me write at all. In fact on second thoughts its probably just easier if I go and do the washing up. I will take a sword in case of attack.

One of the other things on my list that I don’t like doing is gigging in cinemas. I have already written about my distaste for cinema gigs in this blog: so I wont go on about it too much again. Last nights cinema in Bristol was not a normal cinema. Oh no, it ranked above normal cinemas in its classiness by being a cinema de lux. What the upgrade means is that unlike normal cinemas all the chairs are super comfy, there is a bar that serves fancy cocktails and there are odd bits of carpet and giant tubes that are meant to be cool but look a little like some designer had the image of a giant hamster cage in his mind. The complex it was in, the Cabot Circus, has an overall odd feel. There is a weird wavy bridge from the car park to the man area. It was designed wavy on purpose so architects could wank off about it while members of the public felt dizzy and nauseous crossing it. Its also not really a circus despite its name. This is something that I have been disappointed with before. Neither Picadilly or Oxford have trapeze artists or ringleaders so I should have know better, but it still seems to cut me deep. I expect circus music and instead get soulless shopping centres and busy streets. I bet they used to be actual circuses until the clowns went all scary and killed people and the whole operation had to be shut down. Fucking clowns. I have to say though the cinema bit was lovely and possibly the nicest I’ve been in. There are probably few places I would enjoy watching a film more due to comfort levels. Comfort so great you could comfortably doze in the seats. As several of the comedy audience did. Bastards.

The gig was not that bad at all considering. The crowd were lovely and consisted of a taxidermist, and aerospace engineer, a property developer, some women who watched men wee during the interval, the man who made popcorn and someone who insisted he shagged polo mints. I told him that was a rather detrimental statement to make about the size of his own cock but he didn’t seem to mind. There was one person in the crowd however who was a complete arsehole. He was a pirate. Not a fun, eye patch wearing one, but one who sat near the back and tried to film the whole show on his little camcorder. I hadn’t noticed him and it was only the headliner John Ryan who did. He stopped the show and, quite rightly so, went all serious until the man stopped filming. The cinema staff did very little about this, although you would think they were masters at it. Had the man been filming the new Wolverine flick they would have pounced on him ages ago, but they were quite happy to leave him to film us against our permission. The man didn’t reappear at the end although we wanted proof he had deleted it. If some dodgy footage of any of us pops up on youtube please complain about it until we can have that pirate taken offline. People like him ruin the good name of fun pirates. Long John Silver would never record stand-up on a camcorder. He’d be too busy searching for buried treasure and calling people ‘Land Lubbers’ or something. Pirates have been shamed recently by people like that Bristol man and the Somalian pirates who are all serious and have guns. Although at least they only go for oil tanARRRRRRRRRRs which is something.

The rest of the night was good with all the acts doing great sets. This was then followed by a journey home filled with many a tale from master storyteller John, who has some of the best tales to keep you awake on a drive home. I needed the tales too as I had two cups of coffee that didn’t seem to kick in until I got all the way home at which point I was knackered but unable to sleep. I think they need to sell coffee with time limits on it. If I’d have known that I’d drunk delayed reaction coffee I wouldn’t have had it. It said instant on the packet which was obviously a lie.

Must deal with that washing before it grows and eats me. Then its off to Hereford, the less famous partner of Worcester. Hereford is famous for its ancient chained library where the books are held to the shelves with chains. What ever else you may say about the place they must have the most intelligent thieves in the country.