I’m sitting in my hotel room, about to eat a packet of Munchies. Probably something a thousand people are doing right now throughout the country. Or just me.The main thing is I’m about to tan this packet. I’ve not eaten a Munchie for over 40 years. You see,I was an addict. A Munchie addict. A child who stole money to feed my habit. Stole money from my mums purse,from my dad’s pocket.
It’s easy to dismiss this addiction as nothing more than a child’s sweet tooth,but it was much more than this. I had to have Munchies and I would go to any lengths to get the cash to buy them.
Everyone knows that Munchies were never meant to be for the “poor kids”. No,these were for kids with aspirations, dreams,and other words that sort of meant the same. These were the Ferrero Rocher of the day. I remember the gasps of my fellow 6yr olds when I pulled out a packet of Munchies in the playground! I could hear them question,”Is his da a millionaire?”,”Is he a rent boy?” “Is he any good at fitbaw?” Obviously the answer to all these questions were no.
Like any addiction the hunt for money becomes ever more desperate. The worst of times came one night while my family were all watching Star Trek. I sneaked into the kitchen,leaving the lights off. I pulled out a couple of coins from my mums purse. Instead of taking the usual 10pences, I lifted a 50 pence and a 10 pence! I only realised this when I got out the house. Sixty fucking pence!! I had never had that much cash on me before. I believe that’s the equivalent of £10000 in today’s money. I was about 6 or 7 and had all this money. It was too late to put it back,as Star Trek had finished, and one of my sisters had to get a steel comb through her hair.( in the old days this was a pastime)
I genuinely didn’t know what to do. My best friend suggested blowing it all on sweeties and water pistols. The fool! Sweeties? There were only Munchies for me.
I knew my mum would notice the money gone so I had to decide what to do. Decide!! I didn’t have any say in the matter. Munchies had hooked me and I knew what that dosh was getting spent on!
The outcome of the story is I bought about 6 packets of Munchies and then I got leathered by my mum for taking the money. She then took me to child guidance where I got different colour stars for something. I have this thing in my head that I wasn’t a problem child, merely a bed wetter. Although that might be made up.
One of the things about gigging throughout the country is I get to stay in hotels. Usually 2-3 days at a time. The boredom usually sets in just about the time I wake up. This is after a really good 2-3 hour sleep, helped by the Stag group who are on the same floor, and every other fucking floor.
Then I think about the delicious breakfast that is downstairs waiting on me. I just think about it though, as most clubs now only pay for the room, so unless I want to pay £8.95 , I’m not having it. I try and console myself by thinking my instant porridge snack is much healthier, and drier, and its only 50 pence out of the pound shop ( I buy 2).
One of the biggest bits of bullshit you’ll hear in a green room at a comedy club ( and there’s tons!) is a comic ,when asked what he’s going to do during the day, will answer” got some writing to do”
What this veritable wordsworth ( not even going to check if that’s a real word) really means , is he will be masturbating a lot. The only writing he will be doing is typing You Porn into his laptop. Or occasionally a line in the bookies.
Now I’m not judging these comics. I’m the first to admit I do tons of writing in my hotel room. Sometimes I run out of tissues, I do that much writing.
All I’m saying to my fellow comics is give it a fucking rest with the “writing pish”. Just admit you watch Flog It , while flogging it.
Writing this , while in my hotel room , may even be the first bit of “real” writing ever done by a comic. I would like to add more but I’m away to do some heavy writing!!
I’ve only done a full run show at Edinburgh once before. This was in 2009 with my show “Gary Little- He Was Only Jail Gay”. A title that was just beaten by “Fuck Me It’s Cliff Richards Gay Love Child”,for most original use of the word Gay in a show title.
I found it a bit too stressful the last time. Driving the M8 everyday is what Taggart would commonly describe as Murder! I’d imagine most people who drive a lot of miles end up thinking the same things.How to get away with the perfect killing? What is the perfect speed for optimum mpg? What would be my weapon of choice in a duel? The daft thoughts…
This year I’m playing the Stand Comedy Club in York Place. It’s at 5.30-6.30pm, a time that performers when given this slot are often heard to cry”fuckin hawf five,fuck sake,hawf five!!”(performers with a Glasgow accent). 4-25th August
I had no intention of doing the Festival this or any other year,but having got asked late on I’m genuinely just going to try and enjoy it this year and if I get people coming to see me I’ll be chuffed, and if I get pish reviews then I’ll just try out that perfect killing I’ve been thinking about.
I remember I heard a guy getting accused of having long hair. The guy with the hair was adamant that it was only shoulder length and thus not officially long. Got pretty heated and seemed as if it was about to get messy when I intervened. I just happened to have this months Hairdresser Monthly and on the cover was the headline When’s Long Hair Long? The Truth…It seems shoulder length hair is not classed as long,just shoulder. The three of us had a laugh about it,then we buzzed some glue. They were the best of times…
I heard a guy on 5Live radio today telling me that only chinos or action slacks are allowed to be worn in a restaurant. First of all what the fuck is action slacks? This will be the same fan dan that’s telling me a 50 yr old cant wear trainers as a fashion item! I just bought a pair of Adidas yesterday and I can honestly say I’m rocking them! ( ok! I accept that 50 yr olds can’t say rocking them) My point though, is this dafty probably wears a felt fucking Fedora hat while ironing his shoe laces at the same time as Henry Hoover de-fluffs his nether regions. He did sound educated though,so he probably knows best.
Well that’s the end of another Glasgow International Comedy Festival and it’s been a cracker! Ended up doing 5 solo shows of which 4 sold out, which means my garden will have decking this year. If you had told me 10 years ago I would be making people laugh AND have decking…well that’s the stuff of dreams isn’t it?!
Then to cap it all off,I got voted Best Headline Act and Best Solo Show at the first Scottish Comedy Awards. Like most people I find it easy to slag awards. Like most people I’ve never won an award.The only thing I’ve ever won was a TT competition in the jail. I didn’t get a trophy though. Two phone cards was the prize, which allowed me to call and harass my ex for longer than normal!! I think the Best Headline Act will look good on the countless Bowling and Social Club posters, where my career will no doubt end. I always find it surprising that accolades are still held up when promoting your business. A butcher round the corner from me still has in its window the sign, Best Steak Pie 2008. That’s 6 year ago mate! What’s happening with the pies these days? Everyone will tell you pies are something that have to keep improving, and it’s all very well saying the gravy was great in 2008. What about 2014? The pastry mate? The stew? It’s not all about the gravy.
I once had a breakdown cause someone described a steak pie as”Unbelievable..absolutely fantastic!!” Birth of a child, First man on the Moon. These things are Unbelievable… absolutely fantastic. Steak fucking pie?!! At the very most I’ll accept “Delicious Pie” Nothing more.
I also did an interview with the Daily Record. Speaking to a reporter about my colourful/shady/dodgy/interesting background, I was a bit nervous on how it would turn out,but going with the reaction of many friends I think it was a pretty good piece. Here is a link.