Hello and greetings from the British Airways lounge at Heathrow, where I sit awaiting a flight to Los Angeles. I’m heading to LaLaLand for three days to 1) “take meetings” 2) spend some time with my brother, who has been living there for a wee while or 3) pretend I am in an episode of Entourage. Possibly all of the above.
Since my last missive my tour has taken in a couple of dates in bonnie Scotland, so here’s a quick update of what happened at each.
Saturday was Glasgow, and a venue called The Garage. As the name suggests, it was a proper rock venue, suitably grungy, and judging by this bit of graffiti backstage, has played home to the best punk bands the world has seen:
The gig itself was suitably raucous, and featured a scientist by the name of Dr David Greenalge, a drunk and loud and quite excited Aussie called “Ah… Darren”, and young man sat in the front row with both his girlfriend and his parents (Side note: his girlfriend looked a lot like a younger version of his mother. Calling Dr Freud!)
The show was memorable however for the presence in the front row of a man called Adam, a man I encountered just under a year ago in an Edinburgh club called The Stand.
Those of you who have seen “Inflatable” will know this story, but last year at said Edinburgh gig, I got chatting to Adam – a long-haired, heavy-metal lookin’ dude, who told me he worked in forensics. He then proceeded to tell me the most horrific story ever.
I won’t repeat the story here, as I don’t want to ruin it for anyone that is yet to see my show, but suffice to say it involved two corpses, a drug addiction, and a gangrenous willy; it is a story I intend to tell my children in order to get them to stay away from drugs.
Well, Adam turned up to the show on Saturday, and took to the stage to help me retell the tale. In what was a touching moment, I thanked him for providing me with the most off-colour story I have ever told on stage, but also told him that it was time for us to go our separate ways. I had a career as a comic to follow, he had his life in Glasgow, and as the theme song from the Bodyguard played, I carried him off stage in my arms, as the gig came to an end.
I will never forget you Adam, or the abhorrent images you managed to put into the minds of anyone that saw my show this year.
The following night was Kirkcaldy, for what was the final night of the Kirkcaldy comedy festival. I performed in The Adam Smith Theatre, named after the Kirkcaldy-born “Father of Modern Economics”, to an audience that included two hundred and ninety Fife residents, and a German exchange student called Marius.
I began the show by asking the crowd to teach me a bit of local slang, and within five minutes learnt that “braw” means “good” as does “bonnie”, “baffies” are slippers, and a kitchen bench is known as a “bunker.” (I may have quite callously suggested one shouldn’t use the word “bunker” around the German)
After asking via twitter for some more slang, and being told constantly that all I had to do was end my sentences with either “ken” or “eh”, I discovered a cracking term for being drunk – “blootered”. It seems the most Fifey sentence ever would be “I was so blootered I left my braw baffies on the bonnie bunker.”
The only other moment of note from the audience was a young fella called Colin who mumbled incoherently but seemed to suggest he was in a local band called February Stars. A bit of searching from the sound tech found their myspace page, so we all had a listen to one of their songs, while Marius provided a German rap over the instrumental bit.
I then promised that I would make an appeal here for you to visit myspace.com/februarystars and at the very least have a listen to their music, but preferably leave them a comment as well. Let’s take this group to the top people! Maybe they can do a double-headliner bill with The Gabriel Finn Experience.
Three hours sleep and a flight to London later, I now find myself in a Heathrow lounge, giggling at the fact that while all the businessmen around me make important phone calls about “contracts” and “deals”, and send emails to heads of departments – I am typing away about braw baffies and infected willies.
What is even more ridiculous is that I am the second comedian this weekend to have played Kirkcaldy one night, then flown to LA the next morning. Apparently the very talented Scottish comedian Des Clarke did exactly the same thing two days ago.
Add to this the fact that Ewan McGregor studied in Kirkcaldy – and I think we have a new slogan that should be on all official town signage from now on:
“Kirkcaldy – Gateway To Hollywood.”
I will let you know if anything of note happens on my US jaunt, and being that Danny Wallace, Brendon Burns, Des Clarke and Wil Anderson are all in LA as well, it probably will.
I can see it now – An Englishman, a Scotsman and three Australians walk into a bar…
More to come soon