Ironic Tonic

A tribute to the Brave

2010-11-23T02:56:00.000-08:00

Grab life today, embrace it, shake and force it to do things your way! In the process never forget to show a little love to those around you, especially those with mental illness.

This year two of my friends have lost the fight with depression. When you hear such sad news as the loss of a loved one, if the loss is due to old age, or accident, whilst still tough, it has a reason, there is a hook to hang your emotion onto. However when you hear that your friend took their own life the situation for those left behind is far different.

Anger, resentment, tears, frustration, sadness and regret all intertwine into a big noisy mess inside your head.

'maybe I should have called him' 'why wasn't i there for him' 'if only I hadn't dismissed his troubles as melodrama or attention seeking' 'I should have noticed he was that bad, I should have known, I was his friend!'

These thoughts and a million others race through your head as you try and resolve the hurt that is biting at your heart.

Here's the thing though, there is no way of bringing back a loved one once gone, there is no cure. There is however a vaccine that might help those suffering from the same disease hold back its symptoms.

If you have a friend or a colleague who is suffering from depression or manic depression or any one of the many terrible mind maladies which display similar warnings, then there is one thing you can do for them right now and its really quite simple.

Just show them some love. Don't judge them. Don't scorn them or hate their moments of melodramatic self indulgence. Don't try and assign reasons for their behaviour using your best judgement from your sound mind that has no idea of the complexities and complications, the demons and the torture some have to deal with. Do not pretend you understand their pain if you yourself have never known such pain. Do not figuratively patronise or pat their head in wayward lip service. Just give them a little more love.

Many people with the many forms of depression are often the most creative and colourful members of our world. They are impetuous and bouncy one day and morose and negative the next. They build great walls of personality and bravado and lull the world into thinking that they are ok, they love the fight. They make it seem as if the fight is a tough one but one which is exhilarating in its pursuit. We often see those who suffer as somehow the strogest amongst us and thus the least likely to fall. This is a fragile illusion and the many dear friends I have said goodbye to are sad proof of that.

You may not be able to save a friend, you may not be able to extend their life one day beyond the day they decide their time has come, but you can wave them off with a heart that is clear in the knowledge that you did everything you could. You spent that extra moment to share a smile, you hesitated before judging them and you never forgot to tell them that you valued them and loved them.

Good bye my dear friends. Sleep well and peacefully.
x

poetry & cheerful reasons

2010-10-07T05:33:00.000-07:00

Its national Poetry Day so I thought I would share a couple of recently scribbled musings and then I came up up with a list for a magazine article recently 'Reasons to be cheerful' and thought maybe you would like to read it too :)

Written a couple of weeks ago whilst gazing accross Morecambe Bay very early one morning.

Morecambe bay journey

Whilst cockle pickers flick salty molluscs from watery cracks & distant mountains cast lonely authority over this ancient muddy wasteland.
Behind me sits the chaos of a world in brick built regularity, in front of me the wilderness in random, ordered singularity.
Behind me the past, in front of me the future, should I advance or retreat, conquer or be conquered, make a stand or take my seat?
The decision is simple, the route unknown, but my strength is certain because my destination is home!

Woman

Like rose petals fallen pon a glassy pond,
Your sweet eyes soften and sweeten my world.
Like sunlight falling into icy depths,
Your smile is the moonlight melting my night.
Like jewelled armour your your strength is your tribute.
Your beauty is your spirit, your laugh and your kiss.

..............................................

Reasons to be cheerful

It was 1979 when Ian Dury penned the famous ‘Reasons to be Cheerful….’ This was the last hit he had with his group the Blockheads. His lyrics were born out of frustration and written in a time of national unrest and turmoil…. This all sounds very familiar eh?

So here are my reasons to be cheerful… make up your own tune!

‘Reasons to be cheerful.’
by Jools Constant; ‘the only comic in the village!’

* The new leader of the free world has great Abs.

Can we get buffer than Barrak Obama during international ‘Let’s Get Buff Week?’ Yes we can!

Barrak is set to be Torso of the Decade. With his handsome grin, buff body and position of extreme power, he will have a queue of Monica Lewinski’s begging him to pay for their dry cleaning.

* You’re now unemployed, but just think of all the extra time you have with your Xbox.

Thanks to rising unemployment, sales of video games are on the up. Another bonus is that MFi has closed…. So with all your new free time, you couldn’t fit that new kitchen, even if you wanted too.

* Sarah Palin is still alive so we still have someone to laugh at now that Bush is probably dead.

The Moose hunting Moose is the main reason her team lost the election. Ms Palin is so stupid, she makes George Bush look like Steven Hawking without the wheelchair! Her knowledge of world geography is based purely on Disney films. If she had ever been elected President she promised her first act would be to hand out free lipstick for all Pit Bulls!

Yet despite all this the right wing extremists think she's the best.... the very same people also have lots of guns and a very limited IQ, lets hope their trigger finger gets twitchy when MRS P is passing by!

* No-one has any idea who is running the Country now, so we don’t know who to blame or moan about anymore.

I’m not even sure which Man is really in charge and I am not remotely interested in new coalition politics. I do know that now the benefits are being slashed, rich people are uncharacteristically grumbling! I don’t really care as long as they keep recycling our rubbish, it has been revealed that cheeky councils all over the country are throwing our tins it into landfill! Throwing away our rubbish – it’s a scandal! I will write a strongly worded letter on recycled paper, and very soon that too will be recycled and my prickly anger may be mopping the bottom of the very ploiticians I disdain!

* Only 123 shopping days until Christmas

Take advantage of the Poundland Sale now! They are still selling the remnants of the Woolworths stock. They have 300 Mona Lisa Jigsaws left. The pick-a-mix stand is completely empty except for the coffee creams and even the ‘Barbara Streisand sings Black Sabbath’ CD box set is still available if you hurry.

Christmas is almost here, it's the best ever reason to pig out on chocolate without the ‘Obese Police’ wagging their chubby little truncheons at us.
Every day we are being told off for eating the wrong things; burgers, chips, pizza, carpet! With Christmas on the way we can fill the trolley full of chocolate without the Check Out Operator hitting the alarm button and having our kids taken away by social services.

* Big brother is over forever! Yes!

Who would have guessed that by shovelling 10 nuerotic oversexed village idiots into one hole the result would be benign dribbling dross of the highest order. The series ran 9 seasons too long me thinks!

* I know times are tough, but you wouldn’t sell you Ferrari and replace it with a wheelbarrow, would you?

Why is Rooney riding a bike when he has enough money for a taxi? Lets take heart, even with all his money, advisors and resource, he can still cock things up just as spectacularly as us mortals

* Michael Douglas isnt too well.

KZJ may soon be single again. Dancing shoes at the ready lads.

* Angelina & Brad haven’t bought any babies this year which means they are becoming more affordable for the rest of us.

Now that they have their Quality Street tin filled with a United Nations calendar of adopted kids, they are turning their attention to old people and the disabled. Apparently they have put in an offer for Cliff Richard and the whole of the England Rugby team.

* Greggs has not gone bankrupt.

You used to be able to guarantee that if a Banker invites you out to eat, it would be an expensive steak washed down with a very exclusive Red. However in these tough financial times he's thinking; ‘Greggs,’ washed down with a bottle of Dandylion & Burdock! However cold the weather, however little money is left in your pocket, a steak pasty & a Chocolate Flake Fancy will always wash away the boyfriend blues. Bankers are quickly tightening their belts as its going to be at least another twelve months before they get anymore multi million pound bonus's from us taxpayers

* The French are still in France.

Bon Bon. When the French Market visited Newport recently they had no-where to park their vans because the Welsh Sheep Farmers blockaded the car park. We had vans stacked up all the way back to Bon Marche.
Some people dislike the French so much they have suggested that we force them as a nation to adopt Russell Brand and Ricky Gervaise.

* I haven’t heard mention of the Ryder Cup for a full three days!

We are considering re-naming Newport; Celtic Manor City, electing Terry Matthews as President and turning the Castle roundabout into a putting green. The river is to be a new Water Hazard and there will be a windmill built at the end of the footbridge for those who fancy a bit of Crazy Golf.

* Cheese and onion crisps.

If there is a God in Heaven, you can guarantee he will have a secret stash of Cheese and Onion under his bed – which makes sense I guess as he probably invented them first. The last supper would not have been the same without a crispy cheese starter.

* Finally, here is the most astonishing news I have ever heard – after last years’ unveiling of Amy Winehouse at Madame Tussauds, they decided to do some tests and they found there were actually less artificial substances in the wax model , than in Amy herself. Shocking but true!

Always remember; Smile, and the world smiles with you. Frown, and the world will think you are constipated!

Pursue your dream!

2010-01-07T09:02:00.000-08:00

Less than3 years ago I was just a builder, and a pretty good builder at that, (that’s just an estimate of course!) Here I am now, a professional comedian stalking the motorways of Britain, slithering down the slip roads into comedy venues countrywide and actually getting paid proper money for parking my jokes inside people’s heads in an attempt to make them laugh.

Less than three and a half years ago I did my first ever gig – my material was delivered straight from the open pages of The Big Compendium of Jokes, which was an unwelcome gift the previous Christmas along with a bag of Satsuma’s and a multi tool spanner thing, (the only tool I would ever need again, the instruction booklet promised I could now throw away all other tools!)

Then a friend pointed out a comedy competition, run by the BBC which was looking for new comedy talent living in Wales. Foolishly I filled the form and clicked ‘send!’ The night before my big televised debut, I reluctantly read the ‘terms and conditions’ (men don’t generally really do instructions!) To my horror it said that all jokes must be your own and original. One or the other would have been fine, but both….!

I turned up in front of an expectant viewing public with a complete gaggle of comedic musings. The judges though, rated me, but their advice, (like the drink I downed before going on stage) was short and clear. They said that I was a ‘born performer’ I had ‘great stage presence’ and had a bright future in the comedy business. However…. now here’s the crunch! I quote ‘Your material is Shit!’
Their advice was direct and useful. ‘Get out there, do your time on stage, work hard, develop your material, work even harder, and learn your craft and then, if you are very lucky, you might make a living in this business!’

Well I guess I have been lucky if you consider that now I am performing in some of the biggest clubs in the UK and earning a living doing what I love the best. However, that ‘luck’ has cost me quite a high price. I am driven by a passion to make my voice heard above the hum and noise of mediocrity, but my passion has come at a cost.

After working up to 10 hours a day as a builder I would climb in my car and drive hundreds of miles to perform gigs in a wide selection of pubs and clubs as I developed my skills. In less than 3 years I did over 600 gigs. The routine, the lifestyle and the passion which drives me has cost me my marriage, my beautiful home and the security which I had spent many years, until that point, meticulously building around me.

My life has completely changed now, I’m living almost full time in London and my week is centred on my performances and the constant need to improve, develop and progress. I have paid a high price for my passion, my hobby. Now as I begin 2010 and look forward to the year ahead I have to ask if the price I paid was worth it. Well if I concentrate on NOW and appreciate that I am living a life that many people could only dream of and that if my career keeps going in the same trajectory, I have a pretty sound future ahead of me, then I’m ok. I have at last found a world in which I fit and belong. If I looked backwards and count the real cost of the journey, perhaps my conclusions would be a little different.

Comedy is the most difficult and demanding thing I have ever done. I leave some gigs and it feels like my whole world has fallen apart and others like I’m Bruce Lee, Clint Eastwood and George Clooney all rolled into one…… invincible and untouchable!

The thing is, when you climb on that stage and feel the buzz of the audience in front of you, when you feed off the collective energy and lift the mood of that big room full of people, there isn’t a greater feeling in the entire world. When you step back down again and you know that you have left them happier, entertained and satisfied, just like you’ve just delivered a mass inoculation against the woes of the world outside, then all the pain, all the mindless motorway monotony and all the personal disruption, suddenly disappears. I’m no saint, I do this for me, not for them. I need this and am driven by a deep rooted hunger to succeed, to prove that I can tame the toughest of all adversaries, not the unending expectations of the restless crowd, but my own lack of completeness.

May people say they respect comedians, they hold them in the highest esteem, and yet they show this respect by laughing at their woes, giggling at their misfortune and roaring at their messed up lives.

Yet every night we get back on stage in full knowledge that whilst the audience is laughing, they don’t have the slightest idea of the time, effort, rejection and personal mishap which goes in to creating every single minute of our performance.
So I ask myself, after the year I have had, would I do it all again to get to where I am now… I guess the answer is a resounding YES. I would have preferred to have not had the stress, the pain and the major disruption to me and especially those around me, however, regrets are only useful to songwriters and melancholic murderers. I prefer to learn from my mishaps, build on my mistakes and press forward in an even greater determination to accomplish what I set out to do.

That multi tool spanner now lies useless at the bottom of a box, the Satsuma’s have gone mouldy and the joke book stabilises a wonky drinks cabinet, but that Christmas was the last one I will ever spend unhappy.

My advice is; Pay the price, follow your dream, wholeheartedly believe in where you are going and who you are. This is the only way you may ever succeed, you may not die wealthy or famous, but I absolutely guarantee you will die happy and a little more complete.

Where have all the Policemen gone?

2008-10-27T01:14:00.000-07:00

We have hundreds of traffic laws but no policemen to enforce them. Newports’ traffic police are too busy polishing their patrol cars ready for the 2010 Ryder cup, to do their proper job.

Every day I travel through the centre of Newport, usually by car or push bike & I am getting increasingly angry about the bus lanes being flooded with arrogant oafs who will continue to ignore the law. Whilst I sit there in my car, during peak times, obediently obeying the law and queuing up alongside a bus lane, many, many cars use the bus lane and regardless of the rest of us playing by the rules.

The general speed of cars has increased also. Many a Chav can raz his Corsa as fast as his fake Nike trainers can press the pedal, with no real worry that anyone is going to stop him. Around town where there are so many children and old people, speed limits should be 20mph everywhere. At the moment the actual average speed feels more like 45mph.

In London, the bus lanes have cameras and fines as an incentive not to ignore them. In Newport, the only restricting factor is your own bravery. Will you be brave enough to face the anger of your fellow motorists as you nip up the inside and save yourself 10 minutes?

When was the last time you saw a police car stopping a criminal motorist in Newport? When was the last time you actually saw a proper traffic car.

Here is my solution; either, get rid of all the bus lanes and speed limits and in true Darwinian style, it will become survival of the fittest. Or properly enforce the laws that you, the authorities, established in the first place.

Alternatively you could allow citizen power to sort the problem and I will mount a machine gun on the roof of my pick-up truck and open fire on the next ignorant arse who ignores the law and thinks that bus lanes are shortcuts and speed limits are quaint traditions which should be treated with absolute contempt.

Edinburgh Fringe Pt1 - flying lessons

2008-09-20T16:43:00.000-07:00

Edinburgh Fringe 08 was such babble of high res stimulus.. that had I been attached to one of Bransons balloons, he would have managed to circle the globe 3 times before being forced to land just to empty the chemical toilet!

Over 25 days I did around 70 performances, 46 pints of Guinness, 14 pints of Heineken, 8 cuban cigars, 20 single malt whiskies (just one lump of ice in each,) 20 litres of coke (coca-cola not coca-caine!) & 1 glass of orange juice (but only because I thought it had Gin in it!)

Each day started around 2 pm when I would leave my campervan and a walk half mile of countryside and then fly 20 mins on the top deck front seat of the Midlothian Omnibus. The first show of the day, a panel show, was at 4 pm preceded by an hour of giving-out flyers and taking-in copious amounts of coffee and crepes. After show 1, then off to several other venues around the city to perform guests spots on other peoples shows. After a hearty meal of haggis I would then casually saunter down to the White Horse by 8-30 for more flyers and streetwise banter. At 9-30 the lights warmed the cheeks of a verbally semi naked double act between David Mulholland & I. Quick dash to another guest spot, then roll into the Library Bar around 1am.

The Library Bar was the place to book if you are in any way involved in the Fringe. It was fun and full of Luvvies dancing Jazz hands through the cold air of their insincerity. Once tired of air kissing drama students, I would head up stairs to the very much more exclusive (don't you know!) Loft Bar. Now, the Loft Bar was mainly access by special pass only.... after a deft 10 minutes of charming a hot authoritative lady, my cooling words landed said special pass and heavens doors were opened to me. The rest of the story is just verbal mud wrestling in seas of Pimms bubbles with the rich and famous. By 5am my hobnobbing climaxed and networking would be satiated by the haunting call for last orders. The night bus, (back seat bottom deck,) would then deliver me safely back to the womb of my little bungalow on wheels.

This is one days routine... I did this pretty consistently over 25 days, with a few parties and an occasional afternoon in the M&S food hall just to break the monotony a little. After such a gruelling and relentless routine, I was glad to come home just to give my liver time to forgive me and my head time to repent. Arriving back in Newport felt like peace had been declared. The cacophony of Edinburgh made Newport seem like a sleepy village, Newport outdoor market became a village fete and a Newport saturday night seemed like a loud whisper in a reading room.

The adjustment has been genuinely difficult, but Im glad to be back.... making plans now for next year - my first solo show 'Come Fly with Me.' ?

Why the long silence?

2008-09-06T06:59:00.000-07:00

This year has been really tough. The silence in my blogs is a reflection of the silence in my head!

After the heady success of last year and my swift progress in the funny world, this year landed with the lifeless thud of an autumn apple.

I spent so much time and money pursuing gigs last year (sometimes up to 5 a week at opposite ends of the country) that after Christmas I had to get back into the real world and work hard at my day job to pay the bills.

Between January and August this year I have only done around 40 gigs. By comparison, at this Edinburgh fringe during August, I did around 70 performances in 25 days. At least the shows I am now getting are paid gigs and thus the rewards are beginning to match the effort.

Not being constantly in the limelight and needing to work hard doing a very physical job, left me feeling flat and without enough energy. Not even enough to come into this blog confessional booth and ask for absolution.

Another issue which has stifled my cerebral cosmic juices is my constant fight against Manic Depression. This year has been tough because for the first time ever I have had a long period of very flat, almost apathetic moods. I have never had a moment in my life when I have not been passionate about something, raving and behaving in reaction to whichever wind blows my way. So to feel nothing and be neither up of down is a very strange place indeed.

12 years ago the doctors told me I was bi-polar and I would need to be on drugs to stabilise my mood, probably for the rest of my life. During the 3 years of taking the medication I formulated a series of Cognitive Behavioural Therapies in order to manage my condition myself. I have self managed (without medication) for 9 years and have battled (successfully) to remain stable. I have worked hard in all areas of my life and have continued healthily, financially & socially quite successfully.
However, as with every battle, there is one draw back. You see, I have to be on my guard and constantly, I need to carefully monitor my behaviour and motivations in order to counter the mood swings before they happen.
The draw back is ,that it can be quite mentally tiring, it can drain you of at least half of your energy, whilst earning a living and caring for the family, takes up the rest. I have always been determined to keep working and have never ever claimed benefits of any kind. Whilst this sounds a little noble, its actually an important part of the solution. Having focus in life and routine is one of the many weapons used in controlling the beast.

During the last 5 years I have helped mentor several other people with the same condition. Helping them understand that there is a future for them, a future where self respect, control and stability are actually possible. Through using the techniques which worked for me, and tailoring them to the needs and circumstances of each individual there is always a vast improvement.

This years Edinburgh fringe was a great boost for me. I am now an better comic than I have ever been and I have even more determination to make it a full time career. With the renewed energy, confidence and enthusiasm, I am ready to start causing trouble again.

I have set myself new goals for the year ahead before the next Edinburgh Fringe. The Edinburgh Fringe has become my Christmas and New Year all rolled into one. I have so much fun up there and gain so much, in so many ways that it is now my official year end and thus September is now my January and here are my new years resolutions.

1. Complete the records of my Cognitive Behavioural Therapy methods which help to combat Bi-Polar disorders and make them available to others.

& Be an even better Comic and write a one-man show for next years Edinburgh

5& Be a better person than I was last year.

I guess that will do for now.... tune in this time next year and if I am not dribbling in the corner of a psychiatric ward somewhere, I may be a little more content than I am now with a few more goals achieved.

What are you going to do? C'mon speak up!

When beautiful meets stupid they move to Bournemouth!

2008-05-12T11:42:00.000-07:00

There's an ancient Chinese saying; Wise man say - There is only one thing prettier than a Bournemouth Girl - and that's a Bournemouth Boy!

I spent this weekend in Bournemouth. I had a gig on Saturday night in a club by the pier. It wasn't my best gig, and wasn't even fun. Before the gig, as always, I spent some time watching the crowd (in a non creepy sort of way.) They were a lively energetic bunch, many Hen Nights and Stag Parties and blokes who had spent the day cooling hot heads with icy beer.

When I think that I have the measure of the crowd, I delve into my notebook and select a selection of gags and stories I think will suit the audience. The mistake I made on Saturday night was assuming that a lively crowd was a clever crowd.... oh how far from true that was. Great one-liners that have never ever failed me, suddenly died horrible deaths. Stories which have been honed and perfected, smothered blank faces like damp pastry on cold rhubarb.

I came off stage feeling completely gutted, never in over 130 gigs had I ever had such a bad response.

The headline act for the night did very simple, rude and basic gags (for basic read 'groin and toilet.) His 16 years experience really showed and he worked the audience like a true pro and made the rest of us look like complete beginners. He had clearly met this species before.

The whole experience seemed very indicative of the general difficulties that I have communicating with anyone in Bournemouth. The twilight pavements are pebble-dashed with young and beautiful people, manicured and quaffed with just one thing in mind; Themselves! They have just one goal in life; Money!

Within the first sentence of any conversation, you must mention that your Daddy has a big boat, or that your Maserati cant be with you as its in being gold plated by celebrity artists. If you fail to make it over this hurdle, their eyes will glaze over and they will wander off, mid word, seeking more glamorous prey to bank.

I travel the country from coast to coast conveying mirth and devilment to all types of people from all over the world. I love chatting to new people and have a diverse group of friends. Never in my experience have I met such a collection of two dimensional, empty headed orange tanned ballerinas.

The failure to amuse the audience was completely mine. The failure to to develop into well rounded and interesting individuals is completely theirs!

Before I go on stage in Bournemouth again, I will clear my mind of all intelligent thought and refuse to use any words of more than two syllables... perhaps then, the poor bejewelled invertebrates will laugh their little hollow souls all the way back up their superficial bottoms.

Vote for your pocket

2008-04-21T02:25:00.000-07:00

Yet again the Bank of England has stepped in to save financial institutions who have overstretched themselves and now cant pay their bills. Wondering how to vote on May the first??? I have a the answer, a sure method of picking the right candidate..... read on.

For around 8 years now banks have been shoving credit down our throats like an insecure grandmother stuffing her very chubby grandchild with ever more chocolate pudding. With mortgages up to 5 times earnings and credit cards scattered like confetti at the feet of people with neither the income nor the intellect to manage them, its hardly surprising that the financiers are now struggling to pay their bills. They are conveniently blaming the American financial crash on our current situation. It is obvious to anyone with even a profiterole for a brain, that the banks have been playing a dangerous game for too long and their downfall is by their own hand.

I am angry that the banks and other financial institutions have had the free reign to force feed the nation on unsustainable credit. They have done this using clever marketing which focused us all on the ever upward spiral of our house values and a Utopian view that the economy was never going to be anything other than glorious. They have encouraged bad risk in order to increase profit ts and penalised those who pay their bills on time.

I have an Aunt that several years ago inherited some money, around forty thousand pounds. To her and her family, who had always struggled financially, this was a massive amount of money, an amount beyond their wildest dreams. Here was a chance to purchase their council house, pay off some debts and put themselves on a proper stable footing for the future. Instead, they booked extravagant holidays and filled the house with the best Twinkly Tat that QVC could offer. In no time at all the money was spent, the debts were piling up and they were on the beg for family money to bail them out. It was entirely their choice to spend their fortune in the way they did, however, now that they cannot pay their bills they should not be assisted by those who have been careful.

This should be true for the banks also. They ave partied hard and gorged themselves paiying no attention whatsoever to their future financial needs. Like an alcoholic fire eater they have been mixing business with pleasure and swallowing too much of their own nonsense which really isn't fair and should be stopped.

Here's my way of making this whole thing equal again. Find a bill that has been nagging at you for a while, maybe a gas bill, council tax or that overdraft you just cant seem to pay off. Photocopy the bill and pop it in an envelope along with a polite letter and post it to all the major political parties. Whichever one of them pays your bill first, that's the one to vote for. After all, what is a few hundred quid to them to buy your loyalty, when they have promised billions to irresponsible bankers who have given no assurance of future support and no promise of good behaviour.

Smokers are saving the world.

2008-04-10T13:20:00.001-07:00

Smoking can actually improve your health, whilst benefitting all around you.

Being forced to smoke outside is also such an unexpected bonus for socialising and networking.

I am a cigar smoker. Holidays and Birthdays its big old Cubans... the rest of the time its little slim Cafe Cremes'.
I have tried to give up several times. If we were still allowed to smoke indoors then I would probably be smoke free by now because the social issues and peer pressure would have extinguished the habit long ago.

The fact that we have been banished like lepers is soooo cool.
Here's why;

1. I have a short attention span and I fidget. Having a regular excuse to walk out on a conversation helps in so many ways.
If the conversation is slow (read boring) it gives you time to re-group your thoughts and start afresh on a new tack.
I also get some exercise and fresh air hence calming my restless limbs.

2. I like meeting new people but I am very shy!
When with the rest of the outcasts, you meet people and have conversations that never otherwise have happened. I have made several new and very cool friends as a result.

3. Economic Benefits;
Old people find it the hardest to give up smoking.
Forcing them out into the cold, with an already weakened immune system and dodgy lungs, hastens their demise and thus reduces the strain on the health service and releases inheritances, houses, and jobs at B&Q onto the next grateful generation.

4. It will catch on;
Once everyone realises the fun us smokers are now having outside, (the flirting, the banter, the camaraderie and the release from meandering emptiness of a conversation cul-de-sac) then everyone will join in and start smoking outside. When this happens the Breweries will move the bar into the street to be closer to the customer. Then every night will be like a great big street party, the whole world will become friends and stress will be a thing of the past.

........and we all live happily ever after....
oh except that global warming thing... I have a solution to that, but it will keep for another day

Is Global Warming the new religion?

2008-03-12T03:46:00.000-07:00

Religion is the opium of the people, so penned some notable nobleman. Religion is dying and its influence receding. Has global warming become the new means by which our great leaders keep us drugged and pre-occupied?

For century’s vicars, priests and other religious leaders have dished out the doctrine and made sure congregations have always been kept under control by a rule structure that’s not quite attainable and punishments for failure, which leave you cold!

Seemingly in our brave new world of atheism and materialism, the ability of religion to subdue the masses is dwindling fast. The only time most of us set foot inside a place of worship is for weddings and funerals.

The rulers of this wonderful planet realised some time ago their ability to control us by means of our own feelings of inadequacy at failing to tread the path of righteousness, have long gone.

Whether Global Warming is real or not is quite irrelevant in this context. It has become a central issue around which the vast majority of the people throughout the world can be brought together in a singular cause. Whatever the language, whatever the religion or social background, this is marketed as a universal issue which affects all.

Just like religious doctrine, the whole issue of Global Warming is based on half-truths and heavenly mysteries. There is much scientific fact used to support it, but there is equally as much speculation and conjecture to fill in the missing pieces. It has been cleverly constructed to play on the issues most tender to us – the future of the world our children will inherit. In a strategy that a 12th century Pope would be proud of, the ruling parties have told us that we are all individually to blame for the predicament the world is in. Once we have been made to feel guilty enough for our actions, the collection plate is handed around and taxes are disproportionately increased in order to offset our guilt.

Governments not only benefit due to increased taxation. Whilst we are pre-occupied in atoning for our sins and pointing the finger at our neighbours 4 x 4, we are failing to notice the fact that big business and oil rich nations are seeing great increases in profits and yet make only a token effort to solve the problem. Like a magicians trick, we are watching the one hand whilst the other gets away with the deception.

We as individual citizens are being ‘told off’ every single day. We feel guilty every time we throw a glass bottle in a general rubbish bin, or take an unnecessary trip in our car. We are racked with guilt when we return from holiday to find the TV has been on Stand-By for a week. Our homes are becoming dull and lifeless due to those awful insipid energy saving light bulbs and buying a tomato, out of season is tantamount to treason due to the air miles it may collect.

I agree wholeheartedly that we should all reduce our consumption. I also agree that we should re-cycle and be more aware of the footprint we leave behind. I hate seeing anything go to waste and support every effort to make the air we breathe a little cleaner. What I am waving an angry fist at is the way we have been hoodwinked into believing every other issue is secondary and the only way to solve it is by taxation.

I drive a 4x4 as a working commercial vehicle and the next time I go to confession its going to cost me very heavily in increased road tax and if I want to take into central London, I would probably have to sell my house first. I would happily make all the sacrifices and pay all this extra penance, if I could just see the money being spent on sound alternatives and not simply bolstering poor economic management by those that Lord it over us.

And here endeth the end of the lesson. Amen and praise be to the recyclers and all those righteous ones in tiny wind powered cars, because they will inherit….. very little! The taxman and the Wealthy will get it all!

Personalised number plates! Harmless fun, or a wicked abuse?

2008-01-15T14:05:00.000-08:00

We all want to be a little different; we all want to stand out. I don’t care what people spend their money on. I don’t care how tackily flash, or how aggressively expensive your style is, you are entitled to wave it around any way you like.
This feather ruffling behaviour is especially true when it comes to our cars. Many of us choose to express ourselves by means of the vehicle we drive. I myself drive a big black pick-up truck with lights on the roof and a number plate that sort of spells HORNY!! I also must admit that there is something quite impressive when a big slinky car rolls past and the plate is only a couple of characters long, like JC 1,.... you nust know that he has as much in the bank as he does in his trousers.

What I do care about are those people who mess around with the font and style of the lettering on their number plates.
Some people do it to emphasise a particular spelling or initial set. There’s someone in Newport with a Mercedes 4x4 and they have faded out the numbers on the plate and emphasized the letters so that at first glance all you see is M ERC.

Some people simply add a coloured screw cap to turn 8’s into Zeros and R’s into P’s.

There are those other people who have italicised letters or graphics hidden in the font, which makes them impossible to read by speed cameras and number plate recognition devices.

This phenomenon seems to cover all areas of the UK and across every social type. This isn’t just a dig at Chavs. In fact, it’s more of a problem with the Bovis Homed, People Carrier clad, restless and pretentious middle classes, than it is with the neon lit Council Estate Buzz Boxes.

Whatever the reason, however innocent the motivation, the outcome and the consequences are exactly the same. People who mess with their number plates should be treated with great suspicion and fined very heavily. In London, those who tamper with number plates are treated harshly. In a Capitol constantly on alert for terrorists and serious criminals, a number plate, which cannot automatically be checked can cause a real headache and literally put lives at risk.

The final group of drivers who really get my goat are the Johnny Foreigners who come over here in their foreign registered cars and flout British traffic laws. This is because it’s a well known fact that penalties and infringements incurred will not be perused due to the excessive costs of tracing cross border number plate ownership. The law stated that you are allowed to drive for a maximum of about 6 months (I guess) on foreign plates. But if they are not recorded and not perused, how do we know that they are complying with the requirements. There may be some people who have been driving round the UK, free of charge for years and we wouldn’t know a thing about it.

To those people whose motivation is to avoid speed cameras… don’t speed! If you do, then take the consequences.

To those Cheap Skates who add dots and screw-caps to make your plate something it is not! Get a job, save up and get a proper private number-plate.

To those people who don’t pay their insurance or tax; get off the road and stop putting my premiums up.

To those people who re just paranoid that Big Brother is watching you a little too much!, Stop pretending your away on business when you are 2 miles up the road in a cheap hotel with a cheap squeeze!

To those people who need to prove they are a little better rest of us by crassly spelling their name onto their number-plate; wake up, you look like a Div!

To those from foreign climes ignoring the law of the land; go home or get into line in the post office and pay your way just like the rest of us civilised types have to do!

To those people heading into central London with a bomb on board, if you want the world to too see your point of view, persuade them, talk to them, run for Office! Blowing them up sort of eradicates your key audience!

My number-plate sort of says HORNY, purely by accident, if you squint. I bought the truck with it on and it amuses me very much.
I don’t care that there are cameras recording every step of my life. I am a law-abiding citizen and on the rare occasion I get caught not ‘law-abiding,’ I get a bit angry and then pay the fine. That’s how the system works. Why should you be different?

The End of the beginning

2008-01-01T11:22:00.000-08:00

I went to a party last night, the same eclectic house party I go to every year. I retreated to the garden with my celebratory cigar. As its Smokey entrails kippered my faculties, moments of lucidity between the hazy clouds helped me reflect on the past years journey. This time last year I was forlornly pondering my future whilst licking the weeping wounds of my business, which had collapsed during that previous year. I had no idea where I was heading and lacked any real energy to even debate it.

During March a friend told me about a BBC competition looking for new comedic talent from within Wales. I applied at the very last minute and had no confidence that I stood any chance of even getting through the door.

I sat down the night before the competition and read the rules (it’s a bloke thing, we don’t do instructions!) To my horror it said that the jokes had to be my own and original! One or the other would have been ok! The big pink ‘1000 Jokes for every occasion’ was hurled at a passing nun and I set about trying to create something funny at 12 hours notice.

Needless to say, I didn’t write a masterpiece of comedic verbal revelry on that sleepless night. Welsh chuckle bones were safe from sprain or fracture for the time being.

The day of the competition arrived, blinded by my own ego and deafened by internal self-delusion – I missed the fact that the audience weren’t laughing too much. I did make the Semi finals though, which gave my great momentum to carry on and try and make something with this tiny glimmer of talent, which someone there believed existed.

I drove forward on this new quest with enough energy and a passion to ensure I succeeded. I listened to the mountains of advice, which tumbled my way as I quickly climbed up the comedy rock face. I have been prepared to write, re-write and sacrifice loads of material in order to create a Set, which works, as it should. Whilst it was my ego, which drove me onto the stage, I had to stifle it many times in order to progress and guarantee my position could be sustained.

In just one year I have done over 80 gigs and performed at my first Edinburgh Festival. I have also set up Newport’s first regular fringe comedy night. Just before Christmas a big Comedy promoter agreed to start supplying me with a regular flow of ‘paid’ gigs. This is quite an unusual step as most comics have to do at least two years slog before paid gigs start to arrive.

I have worked my socks off and spent much money this year gaining the experience and stage time to put me in just this very position.
However – now looking forward to the year ahead, I am quite scared. I am scared I will fail. I am scared that now I am actually being paid to be funny, audiences will stop laughing! I am scared that all the hard work was for nothing as the next time I step on stage I will be found out as a fraud…. and not even a tragic hero dying in battle, just a plain old unfunny flop!

What does the next year hold for me? What does it hold for you? Is this the End?

Eat and drink and be merry for tomorrow…

2007-12-26T10:06:00.000-08:00

The Christmas Gremlin has already wiped its feet on the way out and left our homes looking like a tinsel and wrapping paper tsunami has destroyed all in its path.

The biggest issues left behind by the yuletide wave is not the irritating pile of useless cheap gifts from a perfumed auntie whose name escapes you. Its not the worry that your arse will be twice as big tomorrow as it was yesterday, and it wont be the fear that your boss will remember you goosing him at the Christmas party.

No, by far the biggest and most worrying leftover from the chocolate and pine needle orgy is the kitchen full of food you cannot possibly eat. Two days ago you invaded Tossco’s panicked by the knowledge that it would be closed for a unbearable 48hrs (how could they desert us at such a time of need!?) Multiple shopping trolleys were filled to gut straining levels with foods of a type and quantity that were obviously beyond the ability of our already over-stretched appetites to deal with.

Now fridges and cupboards, coffee tables and bedsides are stacked with a half opened, once nibbled, piles of seasonal indulgencies, which form a series of shrines and monuments to our vanity and greed. We may as well light candles and say a little prayer as yet another round of bread and wine are forced between our greasy, egocentric, retail fattened lips.

Ok, my rant is a tad excessive! Not as excessive though, as the grocery bill and the compound injustice of seeing the mountain of food, which will hit the wheelie bins as we tumble toward our New-Year box of Resolve.

Each year the excess creates guilt. New Years Resolutions and the deep down satisfaction that ‘I’m worth it’ then gently pacify the guilt!

Here’s a suggestion; for the first year ever, why not replace the guilt and the need to compensate for your misjudgement and turn it into something positive. Take that feeling of regret and shame and use it as motivation to redress the crime by actually doing something for others over the coming year.

Whether it is setting up a DD for a needy cause, or sweeping up at your church hall. Whether it is remembering to call on elderly neighbours or simply being less aggressive and self-serving whilst shoving your way along life’s’ commute. Find a way to say sorry for being such a greedy indulgent egotist.
This year give something back, and in the process you will gain much more than you will ever fit in a dozen Tesco’s trolleys.

Here endeth the lesson.
Jools Chapter 25 vs 12

Give the troops more drugs and less bullets

2007-12-14T14:48:00.000-08:00

Today’s’ news-mongers are grabbing desperately onto the reports, which state that there are nearly a thousand soldiers sent home each year for Drugs related offences.

Can you imagine how tough it is for some of our boys and girls who are fighting on our behalf in the most frightening and dangerous places on earth? Some of these people are literally boys & girls, barely out of school and touting guns, which they are then required to shoot and kill other human beings with.

They have to follow orders to drop bombs, which they know have a fair chance of killing as many civilians as enemy soldiers. They are surviving in the harshest climactic conditions often for very long periods without rest. They go through all of this knowing their family are a million miles away fretting whether the next roadside bomb has their loved ones name on it!

I’m a grown man, with much life experience and my fair share of bad times. I am worldly wise and generally pretty tough. I would readily hit the hard stuff if I were put in their position. If I were stuck in such an inhospitable hellhole with bullets ricocheting off my tobacco tin, I would find the nearest dealer and beg him to line me up a moment of bliss.

Or… Why not drop several tons of Weed on either side of the enemy divides. A massive party breaks out and everyone gets stoned. Anyone who has ever smoked a joint will know that shooting someone is the last thing on your mind; your first priority would be getting to the biscuit jar.

On top of all this there is a special team of volunteer set up to diffuse all the Christmas Crackers, which are being sent from families to troops. I am not kidding now; Christmas Crackers are listed as explosives and have to be diffused before entering Iraq! Sat around their sand strewn and lonely Christmas dinner tables, each time a cracker is pulled they are greeted by a silence created by the stupidity of the bureaucrats who sent them there.

I have a solution. If our brave troops have to shout ‘Bang!’ When their Christmas Crackers are pulled. Then why not also diffuse all the bullets and bombs that enter Iraq. (I’m no expert, but I think they are also classed as explosives.)

Then, just like when we were boys, if you point your gun at someone and shout ‘Bang,’ the enemy have to lay down dead and they are out of the game. If they refuse to acknowledge that they have been shot, then your biggest soldier and their biggest soldier have a proper scrap and decide things that way. Slowly but surely the mess in Iraq and the other world war zones, would be settled without bloodshed. Less shooting and less bloodshed means less stress, less stress means less drugs.

I really don’t mean sound like I am belittling the work being done by men far, far braver and manlier than I will ever be even if I live to be 350 years old. I am just trying to grab your attention in order to highlight a situation, which shouldn’t be allowed to continue. I just get annoyed when brave selfless men and women on the front line are expected to be ‘Superhumans.’ On top of that, when they are caught with drugs, they are shipped off home in disgrace!

Lets sort this out. Support our bravest of countrymen and women with proper balanced understanding and tolerance, considering the enormity of the job we are asking them to do.

Then if the families want to send them a Christmas parcel, don’t forget to include the Rizzlers!

Fat of the land

2007-12-08T11:37:00.000-08:00

Lets be more selective about about the habits we adopt from across he pond.

I was sat on a plane coming back from Texas, a very large woman next to me was talking incessantly and only pausing long enough to down another mini bottle of in flight wine. The more she drank, the louder she became and the list of things, which were ‘so cute and adorable’ got longer and longer!

I was ready to scream, but realised that if I did, a twitchy air Marshall would probably shoot me! I was pinned into the corner and escape was impossible, so I decided on the direct approach. If I could not shut her up, at least I ought to have a conversation with her and direct her verbal assault somewhere meaningful.

‘Why are you flying to the UK? Business or pleasure?’ I asked gingerly.
‘Young Man we are travelling to Edinburrow in Ingerland for a vacation’ she declared.
‘Ah, that’s nice, anything in particular you plan to do whilst you are there?’ getting a little more confident now!
‘We are going to Edinburrow to shoot Peasants!’ she announced!
‘No, No surely not! You are going to shoot Pheasants!’ I laugh all nonchalant and slightly nervous.
‘Young Man!’ she bellowed ‘I know what I’m going to shoot!’

Apart for the fat Texan lady another unwelcome American import and destroyer of our ‘peasants’ is MacDonald’s!

I live quite near to MacDonald’s and the thing that makes me laugh out loud, every time, without fail, is the MacDonald’s Drive-Thru.

Now, it is a widely accepted fact that McD's food isn't exactly the first name in healthy options. I enjoy a McD (now and then) it is very tasty, but eaten as part of a balanced diet etc.

Now, for you to go to a Drive-Thru to collect your 'fast food' is a bit of a dumb move. You know that it’s not a very healthy food and yet you compound this, by not even walking the 10 metres from the car park to the counter, to pick it up. Instead you sit in your car for 10 minutes with the engine running, polluting the atmosphere and enlarging your arse!
At least the exercise from car to door would in some way compensate for the crap you are about to ingest.
The funniest funny thing is that it actually takes longer to queue up in your car for the food, than it does to park and walk to the counter. So, get some exercise and get a life! Literally!People who go through the Drive-Thru have somehow been seduced by the American heart disease loving, life-shortening lifestyle. It is a vegetative utopia where everything is delivered to your car window. From personal services through to divorce proceedings, from Pizza through to exercise equipment, your average American needn’t leave the comfort of his haemorrhoid cushion ever again. Just look the evidence. The results of this cultural regression are the fat, cholesterol soaked American Drive-Thru role models you are emulating - argument won!

America has given us many good things from Cheerleaders to Elvis. We as a nation are accredited with intelligence, manners and taste, and as such we should make better decisions about which of the products and habits of our North American cousins we adopt and which we throw in the trash!

Stolen Identity!

2007-12-06T03:40:00.000-08:00

Only 1 in 5 schools this year are having a traditional nativity play. By panicking that we might offend someone, we are losing our identity as a nation. Why don't we just paint the world beige and abandon all the things, which make us who we are?

I am an Englishman living in Wales. One of the primary things I love about living here is this nations huge pride in its own identity. Traditions, nationalism and iconic Welsh-isms are oozing out of every pore of every brick, that built this proud people. The Welsh make no apology for their absolute indulgence in their historical landmarks and their reminiscent branding of their modern behaviour. And why the heck should they?

The UK has opened its arms to people of many nations for hundreds of years. Our country only exists in its current healthy socioeconomic state thanks to all those people who left their lives far away and made old Blighty their home.

Some came here by direct request, some came here speculatively, but whether press ganged or refugee, holiday maker or migrant, they all came to a place which understood its own self, which proudly wore its uniform with buttons polished and collars starched.

What is happening to us as a nation? Our history and traditions are the things which glue us together as a multicoloured melting pot of glory and strength. Many of our proudest historical moments include references to the part played by the many cultures who have helped secure our victories.

The Christmas nativity itself is based around the story of a prophet, born in the middle east. Its many facets reflect a conglomerate of fables and legends from all over the world. Did you spot a Christmas tree to the left of the manger? Even the date itself is based on the ancient winter solstice celebrations, Jesus was actually born nearer to October - do the maths, its fact.

The point I am making is, our history, our culture, our traditions, already reflect a multiculturalism which other nations do not even come close to. So why, Oh why, Oh why, are we in such a hysterical rush to 'dumb down' in an attempt to pacify our own fear of offending someone. The very people we are in fear of offending are the very people we already represent.

So, we can either paint the whole country beige, including the Red London buses and Prince Philips nose and slowly slip into a gloop of universal uniformity, (which neither offends nor inspires) and probably, given time, the whole country will resemble a great big Beige GAP outlet and there will be a MacDonald's in the garden of every house and the PC Police stood on every corner.

Or.... we can halt all this nonsense, maintain the traditions and celebrations which come from a rich and colourful multicultural heritage and shout out, loud and proud that we are British, we are inclusive, an we are here to stay, wrinkles and all!

A storm in a teacup at a teddy bears picnic

2007-12-01T11:24:00.000-08:00

This whole ridiculous fuss being made about the naming of a Teddy-Bear needs putting into perspective. I guess I risk 15 days hard time for this!

If this News item had broken at the beginning of April I would have naturally assumed that it was from the same people who came up with the great Spaghetti tree scandal.

For those 3 people left in the UK who haven’t heard this story, an English teacher in Sudan, during a perfectly innocent class discussion with 10 year olds, decided, at the children’s request to call the class Teddy; Muhammad. She has now been imprisoned and some are even calling for her execution!

Ironic, isn’t it, that the child, who came up with this lofty Teddy title, was called Muhammad.

Now I believe that everyone has the right to their views and beliefs and they also have the right to express indignation and disgust at another’s lack of respect for that belief.

This is not the story of a politically motivated extremist wilfully and intentionally insulting an opposing view. This was an earnest, hard working schoolteacher, who made a minor cultural error.

It’s not ok to call a cuddly harmless and lovable teddy Muhammad, but ok to call a small child it. Now lets just think about this. Which is more disrespectful? A harmless lovable toy, or your typical 10-year old boy who spends most of his time with dirty knees, a finger up his nose and a dead beetle in a matchbox?

The world is full of really serious international political and religious problems. Why has this tiny tiny issue been allowed to be used by a minor group of extremists to make it look like many Muslims hate Westerners, when clearly the two ideologies cohabit quite happily in the vast majority of places.

The prophet Muhammad is spoken of as a wise and reasonable man who had great diplomatic skills uniting many opposing tribes, which existed during his life. Surely he would not have executed an innocent woman for a momentary lack of insight. So where are this tiny number of his followers, getting their authority to pass judgement on her?

I fully agree that when abroad you follow the rules of that country. What I do not agree with is governments allowing the political hijacking of minor events by extreemists, when there are far more important issues that need debating.

I used to be a Christian – would I have been justified in executing everyone who calls their pit bull terrier or their goldfish; Jesus? I guess the Jews set the precedent for this by crucifying Jesus for claiming to be the son of God. They set the original benchmark in stupidity. Have we learned nothing in the last 2000 years?

After the success of Paddington Bear, Rupert Bear and Pooh Bear, perhaps this new recruit also has a future in print.