Bullying On The Circuit

It’s been a long month in Edinburgh for almost everyone involved. Whether it’s been successful or miserable, wet or dry, cheap or expensive, drunk or sober; It’s been a long month. And it’s an easy month to get swept up in nothing but what’s going on in that little city. I didn’t know the Olympics had started for most of last August. It’s a shitload of fun but it has its trappings, I think we can all agree.

So this is a quick note to some people who’ve lost their self awareness.

This year in Edinburgh a well known comic got a zero star review. I haven’t seen the show so can’t comment on the show or the review. I also don’t want to comment on the widely read rebuttal of the review. It might be sitting on the fence, but I think that those aren’t the most important issues.

I’ve read on facebook, a lot of people having a go at the comic. Generally taking the piss as well as having a personal dig. I also know of several comics who went to the show to take the piss in person, laughing in the wrong spots and heckling in one way or another. I think it’s pretty sad to see people who are meant to be grown-ups taking part in out-and-out bullying. I understand if you don’t like the comic or the show, everyone’s entitled to their opinion. But I think having a go in public behind someone’s back is not only an awful thing to do, but also an awful indictment on those people’s character.

It’s easily done, I understand. We all talk about other comics at gigs or in car journeys. It’s an insular industry and sometimes we need to vent our frustrations with the circuit. But I just feel like this is taking it a step too far. It’s a considered attack on one of our peers, there’s no two ways about it.

We’re comedians. Probably two-thirds of the circuit has come through some form of bullying. It comes with the territory. I would have thought we’d have the self-awareness, or at least the humanity to not kick someone whilst they’re down. Surely, someone you don’t like, losing money and confidence in probably one of the hardest months of their career, should be enough to appease your ego. Taking it further is only regressing. And when you’re using someone else’s failure to quell your own insecurities, nobody wins.

I’m not having a go at anyone in particular. I’m not trying to champion the comics case. There’s no vested interest or ulterior motives. I just think we need to remember to have a bit of respect for one another, not as comics, but as people.

I know this sounds wanky, but I just think it’s an important thing to keep in mind.

Money Time!!!

Isn't it weird that clocks count up and not down? You know, like a timer counting down to your final moment of life? That'd get you out of bed in the morning.

"Wanna go watch Sex and the City 4; Life's a Manhattan?"

I don't think I've got time for that.

"What is the time?"

A quarter to dead. I really should go.

We've decided not to focus our lives on time, the most limited resource we have, but MONEY. Everything we do is dictated by money. Everything, every day. You buy your alarm clock. You have to pay for the hot water. You bought your breakfast cereal and paid for a travel card for the bus. You work to get money, where you purchase your lunch, and get in some over-time for some extra dough. You come home to your rented house, watch a DVD you've hired, then eat some food you've splashed out on before lying down in the bed you bought and thinking about how you're going to get ahead.

This isn't the way it should be.

Money shouldn't be the centre of our universe, our Time should be. And that's why I think we need to use Time as a currency. Lets attach a value to the minute, make it a global currency and let equality be rolled out to the masses.

"I worked for 90 minutes."

"Well done John Terry. Here's £90 for you. And Ng, you did 100 hours stitching Nike's this week, you get £100."

I work 20 minutes a night, I'd probably take a hit for global equality. If the money was good.

Cocky f*ckers, those homos.

We are an arrogant bunch, aren't we. Mankind. there's not really anything else that shares our cockiness. Animals aren't arrogant. You might get a pigeon that waits til your really close until it flies away, but is that really arrogance? Sure, hypothetically we could eat it. We are Man. We eat what we want. But that's not exactly the height of conceit. The height of conceit, that would be going to the ocean dressed like a seal and floating around thinking that "No shark would eat me!" Surfers are far more arrogant than a pigeon will ever be. Until I see a pigeon dressed like a hamburger, then they'll be catching up.

But aren't we right to be arrogant? We're Homo sapiens. Two Hundred thousand years and we're still number one. But it's gotta be more than that.

How else can we justify our self belief?

Not enough death or disaster. If we were to all be properly rattled, like a meteorite hittiing the Earth, that might put us in our place. But science'd explain it away as a natural disaster and we'd continue upon our priveliged way. I think science has alot to answer for in that respect. Cos a few hundred years ago, earthquakes, blizzards, hurricanes. That was Gods Wrath. That couldn't be explained away by science. That was the big guy upstairs ensuring we paid penance for our sins with a bout of heavy precipitation. But then science came along, with its reason and rational, and put nature in its place. Once we could explain it, we were one step closer to controlling it. Our personal stocks were boosted. Gods dipped significantly. Now, in this increasingly godless age, we have not only forgotten our place, we've forgotten it ever existed. But pretty soon we'll remember. Cos if this conceit continues, we'll never do anything about this "climate change bullshit." And the it'll be too late. We'll all be doomed, and we'll remember our place. It's down there with the worms.

Front-line inquiry.

Every time someone dies in war, there's an enquiry. Why?

If I go to Tesco, come back with shopping, I shouldn't have to explain myself.

If someone goes to war, comes back dead, Good. That's what wars for. That's how you know it's working.

I don't think it's funny that people are dying in war. It's incredibly tragic. I just think it's interesting that we live in a country where an inquiry is not a luxury, it's a right.

Cos I can't imagine it's like that on the other side. I don't think they have the same deal in Afghanistan.

Atash: Have you seen my I-Pod?

Babur: Dave's got it.

A: Well, where's Dave?

B: He's dead.

A: What?

B:He's dead

A: What happened?
B: He went to war.
A: And?
B: And now he's dead.
A: How?
B: Well, you know how in war, they've got guns and stuff?

A: Uh-huh.

B: Well, that's what killed him.

A: Well...well, it's not fair. I-I-I don't understand. We need to get to the bottom of this.

B: Uh, we're Afghani peasants. We ARE at the bottom of this.

A: But can't we get some sort of investigation. Find out what happenned?

B: Who's gonna pay for that? The government?

A & B: Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!

A: Ooh, but seriously. Greg's a lawyer. Can't he do it for us.

B: Greg's dead

A: Dead?

B: Yeah

A: War?

B: Yep.

A: Bugger. (sigh) This is fucked. Why can't we live in a country where they let us investigate these things? Where no life is any less valuable than the other?

B: Because they won't let us in.

A: Well what about England?

B: They're the ones that killed Dave and Greg.

A: Oh, right. Ah well, I guess my I-pod's gone then.

B: What did you want it for anyway?

A: Oh, I'm just on my way to the front line, I wanted something to drown out the screams until I get killed.

B: Want my Walkman?

A: No thanks, I'd rather die in style.

Well, therein ends todays preaching, I hope you've enjoyed yourself.

The Clones

I went to a fancy dress party the other night. I love em, coz you can pretend to be anything. I love going as a productive member of society without social anxiety and trust issues…or a pirate! But everyone was taking all these photos, which did my head in coz the party wasn’t even that good.

Here’s my tip, if you’re at a party and you have to tell people to smile, quit snapping. That’s just me. Some people there were loving it.. One of my mates, No photos. He’s not shy, he’s a Red Indian. Apparently a photograph steals your soul.What are they talking about? Steal your soul. Most of my photo’s struggle to capture your image. It’s not my cameras fault. Fuck, when I got given it, I was told it takes photos with more detail than the human eye can make out. That’s handy. “Ooh, I Can’t wait to evolve, then I can really enjoy these snaps”

You know, people are now being warned not to have their keys out in photos, coz the images are so detailed that people can copy your keys from the photo.
Mental, right. Thing is they’re copying our keys now, but soon it’ll be our finger prints, our retinas, facial recognition. We won’t be able to have a Kodak Moment without having our identity stolen. My real concern is that one day, a photo of me is gonna fall into the wrong hands they’ll blow it up so big they can see my DNA, then splice that with a high resolution pic of an unfertilized egg to make a fucken clone.

You might think “A clone? That is radical” Uh-Uh, I don’t want another one of me. I’m not being precious, I just don’t think I’m worth duplicating. And if I thought I was, I’d be a prick. And Jordan’s full of shit, two pricks are not better than one.

I guess the scary thing is, it could have happened already, and I don’t know about it. None of us would.

You know, you get texts

“See ya tonight!”

You text back “What?”

“Oh Sorry, wrong Richard”

Meeting people “You look very familiar." or “Richard, I saw your exact double on the train today”

Then it’s suddenly gonna fall into place. One night I’ll rock up to a party, and hear MY voice telling MY anecdote to MY friends!

"Who the fuck are you?"

“Me.”

"Yes you!"

“I’m me”

"You?"

“Yes”

"What?!?"

He’ll come and stay, but I don’t wanna live with me. Notes left in my own handwriting. My favourite pirate costume’s always getting used.. Every time I need the toilet, so does he. “I was here first!” Though, with my scent, it’s a bit like smelling a roast before you get to eat it.

Then one day he moves out, fuck knows how he affords it, Probably with the steady wage from the proper job he got using MY degree.
Good riddance I say. Now I can get back into things. Jokes jokes jokes.
I keep chasing my dream, things go okay. I seem to be talking a lot about clones and their faults in society. Given how many there are these days, I’m considered old fashioned
I tell him to come see a gig, but he’s too busy with the kids.

“I’ll do that joke about Cameras you like”

“Are you still doing that?” He’ll say.

I can’t wait til he’s dead so I can do my own eulogy at my own funeral, and talk about what a good bloke I am. Prick.

On Facebook, his status is successful.
I’m eating takeaway chicken in my underwear in a hostel in Scunthorpe.

I write a joke about a dog with two tails, he buys a new car.

I break up with my Mrs, he gets back with her

He’s banking and flying his new red jet, I’m wanking in a friends bedsit.

He gets engaged. I get felt up by a drunken hen do.

He’s giving a talk to the board, I’m playing to an audience who’re bored

Christmas with my family, I couldn’t afford it this year.

His kids are growing and so are my debts. I dust off by finance degree, just out of curiosity.
Here I am 47, driving a 1992 Dihatsu Charade that’s more rust than rustic. Housemates that loathe me, broken relationships,and more debt than Africa.
He’s living the life I should have. I feel like my livelihoods been taken away. My life is shit, it’s all a waste, and all I can think is, "There’s probably a joke in that".

I feel empty. Like something’s missing. So I guess maybe that’s what the Red Indians were talking about