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.
Playing different venues every week means you can never tell how a gig will end up. Even if you’ve played a particular club before and you know its always went well, there is always that chance of the dynamics in the room being wrong, which is trade talk for a cunt in the audience being a cunt. That’s maybe a bit harsh as they might just be being an arsehole. So driving to a gig I always hope that it will go well but you never know. Last night though was the uniquely depressing situation of knowing I was driving to a gig to almost certainly die on my arse.
This was a gig in Invererry that is just by Aberdeen. I mistakenly thought it was in a club in Aberdeen that I had played before but my fuck up meant at 4.30 pm I discovered it was for a boxing match between Scotland and Norway and I was supposed to be on stage(in the boxing ring) at 8 pm. Driving fast isn’t my thing, mainly because I’ve got a shitey motor that makes it impossible to drive fast, but tearing the arse out of that old Citroen meant I got there in time. There must be something sadistic in the fact I was intentionally speeding to a place were I knew people would hate me.
So I get there and notice some kids are in the audience. I have to mention to the organisers that the word cunt may be used. I’m told no cunt gets using the word cunt in front of young cunts.Cunt’s I think to myself.
So I step into the ring, which has to go down as a weird place to perform in and start my set. I can hear someone shout out “gees a windmill Gary” so possibly a fan in the crowd! Things are going slightly better than I thought they would until I mentioned Rangers and Celtic. Who would have thought 32 people from Coatbridge would be up there to watch the boxing. As the boos started I decided to bounce off the ropes like a battered boxer, purely for my own benefit.
“a used tae like you” was the last thing I heard as the theme from Rocky started.
Knowing the envelope with my payment had already been stashed in the car meant no awkward moments were I had to become Sleekit Stallone and fight for my money.
The words of encouragement hadn’t ended though as just as I was leaving the building one of the Coatbridge mob shouted “that’s no the Gary Little a know”.Cheers friend…
So thats my boxing career ended, but I’d rather have a stack of shite gig stories to tell instead of “a stormed this club” tales.
Next week though I will be enjoying myself at the Glasgow Stand! Cheers
Only the 4th blog and almost at the point of giving it a bye. Maybe me talking a lot of shite is the way forward.
So the end of 2013 ended with a gig at Maggie Mays. To say the crowd were up for a night of comedy would be a ridiculous thing to say. One of those gigs were speaking at 100 miles an hour is the only way no other fucker gets a chance to say something. I then spent the bells at The Glasgow Stand after making a balls up of the night I was supposed to be at.
My pal Funk DVoid ( his da was big Davey DVoid fae Partick) was DJing at St Jude’s in Glasgow but never having been there I didn’t realise there were 2 clubs. The one for R and shitey B music which I was in the queue for and the other for Techno.It took me a good 2 minutes before I thought” these people don’t look like they’re into Techno!” far too smooth and clean and drug free.
Anyway I fucked off to the Stand before getting the text telling me of my mistake. I went back to the correct club but being totally sober, the reality of an old cunt like me in that club was painful! Brilliant music though.
Got told yesterday my solo show in March has now sold out which is great news. Ive added an extra one on the 23rd. Now I just have to get the material together. I will be taking a leaf out of the DJ’s box by remixing some of my old material from when no cunt seen me and making it fresh for 2014!
I’m travelling through to Edinburgh tomorrow to do a topical/satirical/political game show on Scottish Independence. Anyone that knows me will know I do none of those but I’ll be sweating my arse off giving it a go.
I’m really hoping that Scotland finally gets Independence this year. It depresses me how much negative,lying shit gets in the media. I just hope people who aren’t sure, take the time to find out the facts.
So I’m hoping the website starts to move up the pages to get on the top with Google. The jail stories need to get bumped out of the top 10!!
I’m also hoping people (nearly said cunts) are actually reading this shite. If I’m getting a brass neck writing it at least share the fucking pain with me!
So it turned out the gigs last week weren’t full of arseholes! I heard some horror story’s from other acts so I must have been lucky. Highlight was the Clutha fundraiser at the O2 in Glasgow. 1500 people raising over £30000. It’s not often on a bill this size that every act has a belter but this was one of those nights.
Loads of press coverage and all positive but I noticed some negative comments asking why have a fundraiser for this and not for instance 3 guys who died in a north sea helicopter crash. It’s a fair comment but do you really want to say cause we don’t do something for one tragedy then we don’t do anything for anyone? I think the uniqueness of what happened at the Clutha is what captured people’s imagination. I don’t even know if imagination is the right word but when we hear about car crashes,boats sinking, even people getting murdered it’s things we have all heard before, a familiar tragedy that we’ve all grown up with.
One of the things that I’ve noticed since the accident is the amount of people who have a near miss story about that night. “A used to take ma dug a walk by the Clutha every night” from a guy who’s no had that dug for 2 years! ” ma best mates mate, when he goes into Glesga always gets a pie and beans at the Clutha,says they’re the best he’s ever had”
It will be like the Kevin Bacon 6 degrees of separation thing were people will be able to place themselves at the Clutha in 6 steps
I’ll finish with the Lula story’s. According to everybody lulu comes fae every scheme in Glasgow! I’ve even my own Lulu story of an uncle who said he pumped her in the 60’s. His words, but he was also a raging alky so who knows..
So it’s the Friday before Xmas which means most comics throughout the land are looking forward to being heckled, ignored, threatened and generally not shown the respect that a chancer deserves.This is the time of Xmas works nights out were all the workers get to see what a cock Davey fae accounts is when he has a drink in him “…and I just pulled ma cock oot in front ae the cunt….cunts were pishing themselves” Aye Davey it was fuckin hilarious.
I’ve had good gigs all week but that ends tonight as I’m at Glasgow Jongleurs which for the rest of the year is a great club but not this weekend! As a wee warm up for the main event I’m doing a Gas Company works night. 5pm which sounds ok until they add they’ll be drinking from 12.
I’ve never been on a works night out as I always like to limit the drunken sex pest in me to strangers.
Did another couple of jail gigs on Tuesday.This was at the brand new Low Moss Prison which is a state of the art jail. A big difference from when I was in it in 93.Then it was an old army camp with billet’s that housed 30 prisoners in each one. Bullying was on a different level and the memory of seeing guys being made to do a “Madonna” still make me laugh! Don’t know if you can Google a Madonna…
Really looking forward to Sunday night at the O2 Academy for the benefit gig for The Clutha. 1500 tickets sold in 3 hours and some cracking comics on the bill. At this very moment every single one of them is trying to decide on their best set so they can blow the rest of the fuckers off the stage!
So if yer out and about this weekend try and not be a sex pest with yer co workers. Keep that for the strangers
Something that most comics have heard is the old chestnut “you get paid loads for just 20 minutes on stage” I suppose that person who is seeing me in High Wycombe and hears that unmistakable English accent of mine probably thinks Ive just strolled up to the gig. They don’t realise it’s a 780 mile round trip for myself and I’ll attempt to sleep,while driving, for 2 seconds at a time on the way home. On Tuesday I had my regular soul destroying journey to Aberdeen. I’ve driven a lot further for gigs but I can honestly say getting a blowjob from Miss Venezuela while driving would not make this journey any better. At least on most journeys I can go into auto pilot while thinking up hilarious anecdotes to tell the adoring fans who are waiting at the Bowling club ,but not on this journey. It seems 284 speed cameras are needed for this stretch of road, meaning I have to pay attention at every fucking stage of the drive. Now most people reading this will be thinking I’m exaggerating the number of cameras. Of course I’m exaggerating the numbers,I’m from Glasgow so it’s allowed. “There was hunners ae the cunts!!” when looked at seriously will always result in the number being less than 6.It’s allowed though. Another thing that annoys me about this drive is the amount of road that does not have lights. Ideally I want lighting that cunts from that space module can see. It doesn’t help that my shitey car has the light power of 3 scented candles. Even on full beam I never get flashed by other cars, simply for the fact they don’t notice. I have thought about getting spot lamps put on the car but seeing as I drive a Citroen estate and not a 1970’s Ford Escort I will give that a miss. Of course after all this stress of the journey I then arrive at Aberdeen. Everyone knows that the stereotype of the tight Scots is a pile of shite. Everyone except Aberdonians. I’ve genuinely met some who in the words of my wee mum were as tight as shite in the neck of a bottle. I recently met a women on a plane who after boring me to death for several hours about her big time oil working husband and how well off they were, then told me she lost her book she took on holiday, but she made sure she stole 2 from the hotel.
So my gigs this weekend range from a comedy club to a sun bed shop works night to a Castle. I’ll probably just use the word cunt at one of the gigs. Cheers
So last night I got to play my biggest crowd when I opened for Bill Burr at the O2 Academy in Glasgow. 1500 people all there to see someone else meant I was a wee bit nervous during the day. Having spent the whole day going over my set I then got a text saying could I call Bills manager Dwayne to talk over my set. I called the number to talk to Dwayne and he asks if I do stuff about dogs and i say yes and he says Bill has a wee bit on dogs and I’ll have to drop it from my set and I’m thinking bastard! Then you have to imagine an American accent saying ” and do you do a bit aboot getting mad wae it” I’m trying to tell Dwayne I’m not doing the Arches bit then the cunt starts laughing and I realise it’s Kevin Bridges!He thought it would be hilarious to stress me out with a prank call!!
As for the gig? I think it went as well as I could have hoped for and I heard laughing…Then had a few drinks with Bill(he’s ma mate now so it’s Bill!)and got told the highlight of the night was Bill taking the piss out of the fact I got the jail for stealing books!
With a massive hangover today I then had the privilege of returning to HMP Barlinnie to do 2 comedy shows for the cons,along with Scott Gibson and Pat Rolink. Having spent time there as a resident a few of the officers remembered me and even a few cons. I’ve did a few of these jail gigs and there has never been a bad one. I think the guys appreciate us doing them. The highlight for me was an officer showing us the Hanging Cell where they…well the clues in the name. Big Scott had never been in the jail so a guy showed him inside his cell. Pretty depressing seeing it all again. Poor guy was only in 5 days and you could see he was struggling and no telly,x box or pot noodle makes that any better.
I have no idea who looks at this site so if you could sign up to the newsletter that would be great. I have no idea what a newsletter consists of..I don’t think the clue is in the title. Cheers