Janey's Blogs - April 2005
the 2nd of April 2005
of an Era
looks beautiful in the sunshine, I am here gigging comedy at Laughterhouse/Baby
I begged husband
to book hotel in advance but NOnono..'we will get a room when we get there' he
pedantically insists. Its that 'man' thing where he refused to ask for directions
or how to change a plug or deliver a baby...thing...
I was worried
and rightly so, LIVERPOOL were playing at home (thats the football team, not
the whole city just deciding to play at home) the place is like Bethlehem, its
almost biblical and the Pope is dying slowly in time to the build up of one
very Holy Catholic city about to kick a ball.
As the poor
wee Polish pope slowly draws breath, the whole city is flooded in red, yet strangely
subdued. We managed to get a hotel room because I LIED at the front desk of
the very upmarket glamorous Crowne Plaza and insisted my room was
booked. I got a great upgraded room and cheap!
the gig went well, I managed to persuade five over forty but very handsome Liverpudlian
men to come on stage. The stood there and smiled as they lampooned 'Westlife
Twenty Years on" at my behest. I love 'em.
Called my eighteen
year old daughter Ashley when i snuggled under my fluffy sheets all cosy and
happy with husband, I needed to check she was ok on her way home from her Karaoke
presenting. ( she is having her year out before uni)
( dont ask -she is a bit posh), all is good I am in a cab going home, will call
you from landline to let you know I am home"
Yes I know
I am overprotective but she is in Glasgow!!
I waited for
twenty minutes in the darkness....she must be home by now?? I start to slowly
panic...what if the taxi driver snapped at her funny incessant chatter ( she
gets that from me)and bludgeoned her ...God I wish she was quiet like her father...what
if she is lying dead in some cold ditch???
My heart starts
to race it is 2am SHE SHOULD BE HOME...what if she is dead and thats my payback
for telling a joke about a dying pope?
I call and
call yet no answer. Her Mobile will not be answered...aaarrrggghhh....she may
be dead? Why my child???
lying in there in the darkness I hear her voice.
on mamma, cant talk" she then hung up. My soul leaked into the soft matress
and fell three floors to deepest earth.
Oh God, what
if she is trying to talk and is being tied up in some boot of a car? Why is
she not at home? Where is she???
sorry I never answered the phone, from the cab window I saw my mates, then they
jumped into the cab and we all went up the student union, I am sorry I never
I am fine, have a good night"
I finally slept
and dreamt of her sitting there in bunches singing to her playmobile toys and
trying to make her teddy bear stand up.
interesting as sat at the next table was Sir Terry Waite, he is very very tall.
We both stood at the hot breakfast bar and got all impatient and annoyed at
the time it took to fry eggs....fuck you would think all that prison time would
have taught him some patience!!!
We went walking
through the beautiful sunshine to avoid the constant updates about the pope...is
there NO other news?
Poor man, they
have camera's trained on the Popes window as if when he dies a wee catholic
man will rush to the glass fronts - open the nets and scream 'he is dead'.
Everyone is praying and millions are on their knees. That confuses me because
surely he is getting into heaven?
I mean thats
like taking flowers to a hooker....its a sure thing dude you are the POPE you
are getting into heaven, quit the praying...and start worrying because if he
doesnt get in WE'RE not!
We walked up
to the amazing Catholic Cathedral in Liverpool. As I sat there outside on the
concrete slabs a youngish weather beaten dirty looking woman came over to me.
she asked in her broad Glasweigan accent. She must have heard me talking.
am" I replied and smiled. She looked tired, there was a seven inch scar
running down from her eye to her mouth, her eyes had that sagging 'punched too
many times' look about them and her dark greasy hair was pulled tight into a
pony tail. Her breath reeked of beer.
give me money?" she smiled, her gappy mouth and toxic breath startled me.
am sorry no cash" I smiled back.
" My name
is Hannah what is yours?" she asked.
for a while and she told me she was off heroin for six weeks.
done you, so are you on methadone?" I asked " or just replacing it
straight to the point ya cunt eh?" she answered back as one Glasweigan
can do with the other and not take offence.
is my boyfriend" she introduced me to a big lanky shaven head drunk man.
hannah" he told me. I believed him, i hoped when he stopped loving her
he didnt punch her coz it looked like thats what happened before....or i was
just imagining every Glasgow woman lived like my mother had done.
'Have you had
a long journey?" Hannah asked me as I squinted into the sun to focus on her
it looks like yours was fucking harder though" I replied.
a big dirty throaty laugh. I liked her laugh, I think she laughed a lot and
possibly laughed at the wrong times. Like me.
at my belly" she lifted up her thin tee shirt and showed me a soft wrinkled
puppy-soft like brown tummy, skin too loose on muscle." I have had sunbeds
and got brown"
skin cancer is all you need" I added sarcastically but with a hint of humour.
She laughed again. I like Hannah, she held my hand and kissed it, leaned over
and hugged me. She reminded me of my mum. Hope she stays alive. My mum never.
As I write...the Pope is still alive. Poor wee man, let him go. Am hoping next Pope will be black. That will be very twenty first century.
the 2nd of April 2005
dies - I didnt
lovely. I had very good gigs and enjoyed the stage time.
he finally got to go 'home' to God/Jesus (am not sure it gets confusing to me,
what if he died and went up there and God is just a wee man standing there with
a scabby dog called Jesus). Anyway I am glad he is out of pain.
Got up in hotel
and had lovely breakfast ( why on earth do we eat that much in the morning at
a hotel?) I ate so much I needed to go back to sleep. I had a nasty nightmare/morning
mare should know better than to sleep 'out of hours' whenever i go back to slepp...fucking
hell descends on me mentally.
On the subject
of nightmares--I was amazed to find out that there was programme in USA where
FReddy Kruger actor Robert Englund had a reality show where guests explained
their scary dreams and he recreated them for you to confront your demons!
I wonder how he could recreate my mother (who is dead), lying murdered
and floating in the River Clyde, just when I lean over to touch
her she jumps up and tries to pull me in with her...then it switches to a pram
that i look in and as I pull the wee baby out a big purple blob appears
and covers me entirely and sucks the life from me, I pull open the baby's chest
and rip out its heart and hold it up through the purple jelly stuff, it turns
into a small flying object that gets smaller and smaller and flies into the
corner of my eye and I feel it penetrate my brain, sharp jagging pains ripping
through my head!
Yes I know
...how fucked is that? What goes on in my head??? To recreate that dream it
would be a big budget because sometimes Brad Pitt appears, then a cute black
man and then I have sex....I know weird eh?
Meanwhile the drive home was nice. We always stop in Morecambe and have a wee stroll and cup of tea ( how old are we getting? I am sure we are turning into the old people who walk along the sea front dressed in mushroom or beige acrylic with their hands behind their back smiling at the horizon) Morecambe was a bit breezy after all the nice weather we had been having I was hoping for sunshine.
to reinstate the age thing we needed to stop FOUR times so I could pee...I have
a bladder like a scatter cushion. It's all down hill from here they say...well
at least I am still alive.
Got home to
find that my FINAL manuscript of my book 'Handstands in the Dark' has arrived.
This is the final final final. I need to check it once more as the book goes
to print NEXT WEEK !
Have a good Sunday I am off to read .....
4th of April 2005
I would just
like to point out to all reading that I am not as bad a daughter as she makes
out. She screamed at me on the phone when she did get in contact and as a result
the guy I really fancied left because I was too busy fretting over what dear
old mother was going to do when she got back home. Yet again my sexual life
has hit rock bottom due to the mental infiltration of my Scary mamma! Whenever
she comes back from a trip she tells me that shes hidden tape recorders
round the house and knows everything I have done, making me therefore spill
my guts to a woman who actually has no proof and uses guerrilla tactics as a
form of mothering skills. I wont have sex until Im 40, but no doubt
shell be hiding outside the room to scare my poor victim of Rhohipnol
4th of April 2005
in Glasgow in the sunshine. It was lovely, the sun burst through the clouds
and I wore my new sunglasses
then the rain slashed down in horizontal sheets
and all the lunchtime smokers ran covering their ciggies for that last drag
before they get snuffed out in the rain.
Am glad I no longer smoke!
I am shopping
for a new dress for the BAFTA television awards in London in two weeks time.
I have no chance of getting anything nice, Ashley will look amazing as she is
tall and beautiful and looks good in a scabby bread wrapper. I look like a wee
fat woman dressed as a glittery dalek.
stressed about the book Launch and the play going to soho theatre in June. Everything
worries me as I have no real control just now.
I have people at Random organise some press, my publicist organise other, my manager Martin organising other stuff and my Edinburgh Fringe show. I am used to doing everything myself.
I wrote a piece for Red magazine and am very pleased with it, the publicity for the book is kicking in and recently was interviewed for ELLE magazine and need to get the photos done for the issue in June. Told husband I need my hair down for photo shoot, he says You look fine, why are you worried?
He has no idea how scared I am getting my picture in a big glossy magazine, he think all I need to do is smile and make sure my hair is combed.
He thinks I
look wonderful, which is nice but after 25 years of marriage he is not going
to say Fuck I made a mistake, you are an ugly cow ( he never admits
past mistakes, he will stick it out..I think its called
I need to stop
worrying about the book being released, once its out there I can only wait to
see what people think.
I have a great publicist Karon Maskill (she also looks after Eddie Izzard!). She reminds me that it will all be good then as we all know I get the backlash! Thats life.
birthday is this month and I am treating her to the flight in London and BAFTA
party and stay in posh hotel, her father is buying her a guitar ( I think).
She is learning to play a guitar and she is enjoying it and he is very much
up to encouraging her to keep going. I
played violin when I was a teenager, I really really want to learn it again
and hopefully this year I can do that.
Maybe Ashley and I can start a wee acoustic duet.
the 5th of April 2005
Dreamt last night about my brother in law 'Dick'. He is mentioned in my book. I never really got on with my in-laws. I have SIX brothers-in law and we were not what you can describe as really close 'Family'. In fact they make the Borgia's look like the fucking Waltons. Apart from being a family that concealed guns and explosives (well- my father in law for sure) they were a bunch of annoying men who hated any woman who actually had an opinion or point of view.
u imagine how much they took to me?)
Anyway, I had
weird dreams about Dick, one of my many in-laws and this morning I
went walking listening to the wonderful IPOD. In the middle of my Eagles mix
and me singing along to it as I walked along the busy street I spotted none
other than Dick, my old brother-in-law!
and chatted to me for a while, like we were old friends!
I haven't spoken
to him in ten years! How odd, I felt good because I no longer felt intimidated
by his opinion of me (I used to really hope they liked me so I could fit in,
then I realised that IF I fit in I am like them and that scared me).
My brothers said you will make lots of money writing that book about them and
they wont get a penny"
I said" Yes thats right" and I smiled at him.
He looked so
old, all grizzled grey hair and slack jowls on his pale face.
the book is about me and what I saw Dick, not really about you or your family,
but if they feel their story wasworth
telling and is worth millions, then really they should have written a book,
thats up to them"
they dont write do they? And you always were good at 'spilling your guts"
he shot back at me.
right Dick, I was always good at telling the truth"
I smiled and
could hear Hotel California still humming away in the one ear that I left my
IPOD headphone in. I was interested to see him, but even he is not worth switching
my IPOD off totally!
We said our
He did not
even ask how Ashley was or showed any real interest in his brother (my husband).
I dont hate
him or my brothers in law, I dont actually hate anyone. It is a part of my life
that is over. My husband has been away from his family for so long now I
actually forget he has brothers. He tells people he is an only child and an
orphan. (Both his parents are dead).
So on another
note I got a nice email from RED magazine who say they loved my article! I am
so pleased they do. I enjoy wrtiting so much.
I am currently writing a screenplay for a movie with another Scottish talented comic, we have had good interest already. Cant really say much yet, but as soon as I can I will 'spill my guts' appparently thats an East End way of describing "Writing the truth".
the 5th of April 2005
Was going through
all the paper work tonight. I had to do loads of things.
1) Pay bills
( fucking world demanding my cash for stuff and things).
2) Sort out
all the bits of paper that sit beside the computer with wee bits of phone numbers
and writing on it (aspergic husband makes me detail all and take notes)
3) Sort out
Ashley's birth certificate (she lost her passport...I know how many times did
I ask her to take it out of her fucking tatty handbag thats overstuffed with
So I was going
through all this and finally found the lovely embossed certificate. I love reading
it as it makes me smile seeing her name in large copperplate writing. As I opened
it I quickly realised it was actually a death certificate of the man who murdered
what happened...a couple of months ago, I got a call from Random House who are
publishing my book.
They said "Janey
you cannot properly say that Peter Greenshields killed your mother as despite
him officially being charged with trying to kill her before, he wasnt actually
charged with her murder. We all know he did it, even his confession to your
friend does not count, you need to find him and ask his permission to legally
write that he murdered your mother in the book"
that -I will just find him and kill him"
dont even say that"
I went on the
hunt for the man who killed my mother. Husband said-" Just say he is dead,
trust me if he surfaces to complain about you telling the truth in your book...well
we can deal with that"
So I told Random
House that Peter was dead.
go get a copy of the death certificate"
So I sat and
wondered how to find him. My first thought was that- maybe he was dead. So I
went to the public records and asked if they could find a death certificate
for a Mr Peter Greenshields, last know to be alive in 1986.
I sat in the
stuffy records room. There were people sitting at computers all excitedly reclaiming
their 'real parents'. Adoptees and misplaced grown up's trying to find their
missing childhoods and all smiling at the fruitfulness of their long paper chase.
There I was hoping for a death.
tapped her fingers on the computer, then wrote something down. She stood up
and put her chubby hands around her mane of hair and secured it up quickly
using a pen to hold it like a chinese hair pin, she then bent down to this
big metal filing box and pulled out a wee film roll thing. She inserted it into
a big flat screen. Her fingers scrolled along with two wheels at either side
and she pushed her glasses up her freckled nose, leaned into the big screen and
a baker?" the small fat woman with glossy thick red hair spoke.
he was" I remembered. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest, somewhere
in my memory I recall him being a baker.
is a Peter Greenshields, he died in Glasgow in 1996. Seems he lay in his flat
and was found six days later, he died by choking.
I stood up
and cheered, I frightened all the happy people trying to find a real mother.
I found the killer of mine. He was dead. I bought the copy of his death certificate
and read it thoroughly, it was the same Peter. I recalled his birthday and his
mothers name was Beatrice.
recieved the copy, smiled and went ahead to print that my mother was murdered
in my book.
Its all legal.
To make it
more morbid yet slightly funny-today is the anniversary of my mothers death.
called the club she thought she had misplaced her passport in, after explaining
to them she will need them to detail a police report with her....guess what
THEY FOUND IT!
Good, dead people and passports found.
the 6th of April 2005
me story about the weird creepy man across our street.
you know that man Mr Fellow's? He was the man who went through our bins and
collected all my old school papers and then tried to give them back to me..remember?
I do remember that man why?"
me yesterday, and said to me ' I was in the market and there was a wee guy who
was wearing a Von Dutch hat, then a big fat ginger man grabbed it off him,
now I chased the fat ginger man and you do know that I am a karate
me at this point he started to flail his fat arms about to show her his dexterity
at hand to hand combat. His big fat red face sweated at this small exercise.
I got him to the ground and headlocked him, did five star pointed karate chops
and took the hat off him, ran back to the young guy and gave him back the hat
and do you know who it was Ashley? It was Cindy Lauper"
The man clearly
is a fucking crackpot.
I pissed ourselves laughing at the story, seems my daughter meets more nutters
Had scary nightmares
last night. I really hope they go as I get older but I guess not.
I cant bear to be that scared forever.
Managed to book an amazing FIVE star hotel in central London for the BAFTA TV awards weekend. Ashley and I are going to get beauty treatments in their very posh Spa.
I doubt a mud
wrap and seaweed body treatment will work, coz I spent my childhood falling
about in mud and dragged my wee feet through seaweed on the scary Scottish beaches
for years and I am still an ugly cow. Maybe my feet are wrinkle free though!
am off to check.
( see you soon)
YES YES! They
are - My feet are smooth and have no wrinkles....fucking sea weed and mud works...hurrraaahh!
the 7th of April 2005
I am dead sick
of hearing and seeing that wee 'Sweety' yellow nasty bird that people (or fucking
idiots) can download onto their phone.
I am not 'trendy'
but apparently they have a Pop Chart for 'Downloads to your phone' fucksake
people actually listen to a song on their nasty wee phones??
I am old aren't
broken and lost her phone six times, somehow it always manages to come
back to her, and it always works, albeit a bit dodgy. Her screen is so screwed
she cannot even read a text anymore never mind download a shitty Busted song.
It is all squewiffy
and the screen is so distorted it looks like a small version of 'The Dead Sea
Scrolls', if she gets a text she has to switch the simcard to another phone
to read the text and then swap over again, reminds me of my crazy brother Mij
( he is a mad fantasist) who used to have two telly's one that had volume and
one that a picture both on top of the other!
Mij is great,
he told me when I was younger that a lion escaped from a zoo and he tamed it
and trimmed its fur to make it look like a big dog and kept it as pet!
I miss his
funny tales, he lives out near Edinburgh and I dont get to see him much.
I am having
a late night and am going to try a new herbal remedy for nightmares. I bought
it on Boots the Chemist, its a herbal sleep thing, so I will let you know if
it worked or if I spent the whole night running as my blood leaked out of my
wounds as I fight of scary monsters.
Am bored with
the Pope death, Election and Prince Charles's wedding. In one Month we will
have a New Pope, a new Princess and a new Prime Minster.
We should just
swap them all round
the 7th of April 2005
Ashley was up early to go to work and I recall smiling at her and falling back
to sleep, then woke up at 1pm!
Watched a Meryl
Streep film 'Manchurian Candidate' all about rich people who implant the Presidential
candidate so they can control him. Made me wonder who the fuck implanted Blair
'There is no weapons, we can find no weapons, hey Fuck it lets invade!'
watching Meryl Streep as during the Fringe two years ago her son was in a theatre
group at the Underbelly in a show called 'St Fatso's Lament'.
Ashley was helping out in the PR office ( I still never got reviewed despite my child helping out, only took four fringe appearances for me to get reviewed and then finally last year I got fourteen or something!)
ANYWAY I digress,
Ashley was told that Meryl Streep was in the venue watching her son's show and
the Scottish press were crawling all over the place. Ashley was told to go find
Meryl Streep and a get a wee press quote and pic of her in the Underbelly. Ashley
was under stress as Aaron Barshack had just called an impromptu press call and
Ashley was on her own and all the press crew were at the Perrier Lunch. Sixteen
years old, hormonal, too hot, tired hungry, flustered and trying to find chairs
to accomodate BBC, Sky News and Radio stations en masse with Aaron throwing
a strop and Meryl Streep sneaking through the crowds.
high and low and could not find the woman and she didnt want to be overly intrusive
and wait outside the room her son was in, so she went to the loo for a
ciggie and sat there quite upset as she failed her task.
Then she walked
briskly through the venue asking a few people in the queue, she stopped a tall
blonde middle aged woman and man and said "Have you see that woman ...erm
foget her name, I think she was in a film where she boiled a bunny...erm..Glen
The woman smiled
and answered "No not lately" and smiled as Ashley thanked her and
It was only
later that she discovered it was not Glen Close but Meryl Streep she was supposed
to be looking for and did not know it was Meryl Streep she had spoke to!
How we laughed.
meet her later in the toilets and quietly apologised for her mistake, Meryl
smiled and assured her it was fine and she told Ashley she hoped she was enjoying
being at the Fringe as much as her son Henry was. How nice, what a
I have no place
to make fun of her, I am the woman who asked Russell Crow to show me his cock!
And yes....he did.
8th of April 2005
and a snooker ball
Was a great
sunny day, then it snowed! Yes sunshine and snow
we are all gonna DIE!
Went out to
meet Jeanette, she was my best pal at school when we were five. We met up again
recently after about 27 years and its as if we had never been apart. She
is so easy to be with, despite the small frame and loveliness she is a wee bully!
She makes me
Eat soup ( and I hate it)
2) Nags me about my heartburn and diet
3) Nags me about not having my diary ready to take calls and bookings (she was there today as Glastonbury was confirmed but I had wrong diary and no pen)
She has a good
heart and just organises me every time we meet, like she did when we were kids!
I love seeing her, I can recall how distraught I was when I realised she was
leaving my school ( she moved away when we were about eight, then I met up with
her at secondary school) she was my best friend and always shared her sweets
and made sure I got to play games, she was like the worlds smallest social
convener! She involved me in all things.
about my book and she told me she cant bear to read it, as it covers the sexual
abuse I suffered as a child, the child she knew in fact. That disturbs her she
told me and she cannot believe that she didnt know it was happening and
she feels bad she didnt help at the time.
ONLY FIVE AS WELL, I reminded her, but being Jeanette she wanted to think
she could have done something, I appreciate her feeling for me but it was not
her fault nor anyone elses except the abusers fault. Its weird how sex
abuse manages to spread its guilty wee tendrils out and snarl everyone in its
wake, like some evil Wandering Lizzie plant that wraps itself around
bricks, mortar and everything it comes into touch with.
I assured her
she didnt have to read the book!
My pal Monica
is the same, she almost throws up when she reads bits of the book that I send
her for a quick opinion check.
please send me happy bits, not the dark passages, I really cant bear it, I hate
to think of what that man did to you, and the way you write it, with that sinister
monologue from the child as she feels that man come near her is very frightening
for me Monica said.
So there we
have it, I need you all to know it is not all sad and scary, and there is a
funny story about my mammy, a big scabby dog and a snooker ball. Trust me its
the 9th of April 2005
I forgot Prince
Charles was getting married today.
So anyway my
best pal Monica called to tell me she is in Glasgow ( I forgot, some mate I
She is promoting
property in Montreal at the Property Show in Glasgow, where Ashley is also working.
I went down to the SSEC and met them both!
They did not
know they were fourteen feet away from each other! Ashley was organiser the
Seminar Hall or Seminal Hall as she called it!
all this going on I forgot to watch Charles get married.
Not that I really care to be honest, I mean I hope he is happy.
Him and Camilla
have been together 35 years apparently! I suppose the upper classes dont
let the married partners or other children come into the equation, if they want
it they get it.
thats what upset some people, it wasnt that Charles hurt Diana (
I personally think Diana knew what she was stepping into and if Charles had
a lover then Diana had fifteen for sure) I think what upset people is that Charles
acted like an ass and when he was annoyed his public deigned to
frown on his relationship.
I think that ordinary people just couldnt understand that the upper classes fuck each other in full knowledge of their partners and attend parties with your lover or even go to dinner and hang out with your lovers husband.
I mean in real terms thats what the Utterly very lower classes or chav culture does in UK. We have TV shows where the mad very lower classes parade themselves on TV shows and casually tell each other in indecipherable language about how they have no shame about shagging or sleeping with their mates and having kids to casual sexual mates,
They brag about
swapping with each other and you will see downmarket magazines scream-
with my best friends husband the night before my wedding
We balk at these people and in reality these are the people the upper classes sneer at yet actually thats the behaviour the upper classes take part in -without the selling of the stories to down market publications (except for Diana..she did!).
was shagging behind everyones back. I dont care, Camillas
husband didnt care, Diana was too busy shagging Rugby players, Polo players,
Royal security and swarthy Arabs to really care.
Charles and Camilla to CHAV land.
I remember the fuss and pomp at Charles and Dianas wedding. I watched that wee telly in that old pub I used to work in back in 1981. I had only been married seven months and was swept away on the whole fairytale of it all. I hoped they would be happy, I wanted to be that loved and that beautiful. I wanted to live in London and shop in Chelsea, I wanted to hang out in Sloane Street and buy designer shoes that were delivered to my door in beautiful bright band boxes.
I was desperate
for personal hairdressers and make up artists. What a life!
I was in the Calton in the East End of Glasgow, shoplifters and thieves would
be my courtiers and bring shiny gifts in plastic bags lined with tin foil to
divert the security systems in the big stores, my hairdresser was the wee gay
guy who would come into the pub and fix my hair for me and my make up was done
and taught to me by the hookers who worked in the sauna brothels
and showed me how to blend my foundation. One even showed me how to cover
All these years
later I do often stay in Chelsea, I eat in Kings Road and get my shoes in Sloane
Street, I even have my favourite hairdresser in Fulham road. It doesnt
make me glamorous at all, I never married a Prince, but I know how to cover
10th of April 2005
Had a late night last night. Went out to dinner up at Oran Mor with Monica and the staff she works with at the property company. The food was just delicious; I had big fat Scottish scallops that burst with flavour in your mouth! Yummy.
One of the
guys in the group was from New Zealand. I had been in NZ three times, going
over to the comedy festival and spending time there and touring.
I also spent
time in Great Barrier Island, which is a small island five hours by ferry from
Auckland. The ferry trip over is awesome, you see whales and dolphins trail
being the big lumbering boat. The island is just really heaven. They have their
own electricity and they have no pollution and they grow all their own produce
and live from the sea. They even have a big Irish bar right there in Tryphena
I stayed in
a house built by this nice dude called Wayne McVicar (Scottish descent), the
house was just amazing with lovely wee twisty staircases and a big circular
bedroom with one wall completely glass with a view of the beach! Heaven on earth.
His back garden had a big camomile lawn with a stone bath set in the middle
that is perfect for moonlight baths. There is no street lights giving
off heavy light pollution, so therefore the sky and constellations are so bright
you can lie there and the garden is lit by the moon and stars and the scent
of camomile soothes your soul.
I had NEVER
EVER been so relaxed and amazed in my entire life.
So me and Michael
( the guy from NZ) chatted all about that beautiful land and guess what??, he
is over here working so he can pay for a house on Great Barrier Island. I wish
him well and I told him I do want to return there someday, he promised to keep
me a hammock in his garden over looking the sea. How nice!
So with all
that wondrous memory still seeped in my mind we wandered out of the restaurant
and into the Glasgow rain and was promptly greeted by a wee fat Scottish couple
shouting at each other outside the nightclub next door.
She had on
a big red Basque top and flowing black skirt; her ample boobs were bulging and
swelling over the top of the tight fabric. I thought she was in fancy
dress but that was her in her Saturday night best, her wee ginger headed
man was wearing a frilly looking Adam and the Ants type shirt which
made me really think they were in fancy dress. I dont think they were,
I think that was genuinely their style. God help us!
started shouting at the bouncer who was refusing them entry to the nightclub
(maybe he too thought they were in fancy dress).
and shouted and then gave up arguing with the big passive bouncer.
Four feet away
for the door they started shouting at each other, then as if by magic a big
lanky teenager in a Rangers football top approached the scene, leaned over and
slammed a fat squelching, dripping kebab into the ginger mans face!
shouting at the woman ya cunt he screamed at the wee man, as dark red
sauce ran down the wee blokes face looking like bright neon blood
The fight ensued,
lanky teenager busty basque woman and ginger kebab man all rolling around screaming
and snarling abuse at each other.
a Saturday night.
I was ashamed
of my happy guests having to see it all.
my head I smiled as I remembered that camomile lawn and Great Barrier Island.
was no-one there who dressed in bright acrylic and slammed kebabs into a face?
I am definitely
going back, in fact I want to be there now.
10th of April 2005
Me a Mother?
Being a mum
is good fun, but my 18 year old ( soon to be 19) has decided that I have to
behave myself more. There is an article in a Sunday magazine about mothers who
embarrass their kids, like how Sadie Frost snogs young guys in the street and
her tits keep falling out of top and how her husband swap antics
got into the newspaper.
All of this
has outraged her 14 year old son Fin.
To be honest
if I had known wife-swapping could have meant I had a chance to shag Jude Law
then I would have taken part no problem, I may even have got a toaster for my
husband if not the sexy Jude boy, (upper classes shagging each other? See Charles
and Camilla theory on Saturdays blog!)
has told me to stop flirting with the sexy Kiwi guy as I am way too old to have
such fun. I was not flirting I was genuinely interested in his views on NZ.
according to Pleshette Murphy (who is an expert on Motherhood) young girls
are asserting their own sexuality at 18 and the last thing they need is to imagine
their mothers are doing the same thing and that Young girls should
not have to compete with their mothers.
but there is no way I am competing with my daughter, she is tall and lovely,
I am small and fat. No competition! She wins.
I am not good
at flirting; I go all red and odd if I think I fancy someone.
I recall doing
a gig in Wimbledon, the room was full of well fit tasty guys and I flirted all
the way through my set with a cute guy standing up the back. It was good on
stage to be able to have that fun, and to be that outrageously sexy with him
but when the gig was over I stepped out of the light and blushed and giggled
Then that bitch
Monica went over and brought my victim over and introduced him to
me, he smiled and was full of sexual confidence and I turned into a big lumpy
block of wood and stumbled over a bag whilst trying to shake his hand! I could
hardly speak and just ran out of the venue. Luckily my tits stayed inside my
Me? Badly behaved? I think not!
11th of April 2005
My alarm woke me up early, forgot I had a meeting with comedy producer Gary up at BBC Scotland! I realised that a quick shower would be the thing, although if I wet my hair it will go mad curly..Dilema dilemma then I decided curly mad hair is fine, its a comedy producer I am going to meet and all clowns have curly hair!
He will just
think I am the original clown.
burst through my living room curtains but I am now accustomed to- sunny yet
cold Glasgow- finally after all these years living here!
went well and I am excited about the new projects I am about to embark on.
Went over to
Oran Mor afterwards for some tea and a bacon bap.
The place was so bloody busy then I remembered Robbie Coltrane is performing there today in a play by Peter McDougall. Oran Mor has a big theatre space in the downstairs area. I have watched a good few plays there. Anyway the place was heaving so I snuck round to the whisky bar. It is an awesome building; it was and still is I suppose a big majestic church that houses two theatre spaces a whisky bar, restaurant, a brasserie and conservatory restaurant.
There is amazing
paintings on the walls by the artist Alasdair Gray and the architecture is breathtaking.
I sat in the
whisky bar sipping tea and met William McIlvanney the Scottish novelist and
poet. He is a great writing inspiration to me and we chatted about books and
stuff for a while, he is such a lovely gentleman and is looking forward to reading
my book! Can you believe that? I am so chuffed like you cannot believe!
I walked home
smiling in the warm sunshine (yes sunshine and warmth, how crazy is that? Soon
it will be sunshine and snow like normal!) So there I was sauntering up the
road with my big jacket draped around my arm.
When I got
into the hallway for my flats, I saw a big black fancy spotlight lamp stood
there near the steps and I remembered that last night when I went out for milk
at midnight, I saw a big lamp in a skip truck in the street waiting to be collected
as rubbish, I liked it so I climbed into the skip and pulled it out and brought
It was really
heavy so I managed to get it into the hall way and plugged it in, it worked!
Then I switched it off then on again and BLEW the fucking bulb! (I am Electra!!,
I blow out bulbs just by switching them on all the time, I have blown three
this week at home!) I am so fucking mad, it worked and I broke it.
Anyway it is
downstairs for husband to get bulbs for and to bring upstairs. He sighed when
I told him and he asked me to stop climbing into rubbish skips and dragging
things out and bringing them home.
last week I climbed into a skip in Lime St and found two nice picture frames).
help it, I hate waste.
the 12th of April 2005
Spent the whole night getting all the clothes out to get packed for London this weekend. Ashley seems to need five ..yes FIVE different handbags and no doubt six pairs of shoes.
I remembered my first handbag when I was twenty. It was big and square and black hard leather.
I got it from
my husband as a present and on that first night taking it out back in 1981 as
we went for our wedding anniversary, I had no idea what to put in it. I never
owned a purse, (my husband carried the cash),I didnt smoke or carry pens or a
diary. I had no make up ( never knew how to wear it). I never had
keys ( again -husbands job).
I stood in our wee flowery wall papered bedroom and looked around for something to put in my bag to weigh it down.
So I found
a pair of heavy metal pliers!
Yes!- old red
plastic handled pliers was what I put in my bag to give it some bulk! I sat
in that old Indian restaurant in Sauchiehall Street, eating curry and chatting
away to my husband and every now and then I would look at my new leather bag
and naturally feel the need to look inside it and the smell of new leather would
envelope me, then I would giggle as I saw the old dirty metal pliers sitting
All these years
on and I have TOO MUCH SHIT in my handbag and at some point I am going to need
pliers and wont have them!
I told Ashley
this story and she just stared at me and said "You had absolutely nothing
to put inside a lovely new bag but tools? You couldn't have put a tampon or
a magazine or pen or paper or maybe even a handkerchief? You had to put in pliers?"
I smiled and
She had her
first leather bag at five when she went to school, it was a fee paying school
and everything had to be just right.
Her first real
adult handbag was Mulberry. She collects them, I collect pliers.
She never had to use tools, she has good taste, she has never had to peel explosives from a wall. I have. I may need pliers!
the 12th of April 2005
and Pop stars!
I am over week
late with my period. I know everyone ...click away from the scary subject matter.
My legs hurt, I am very hot and as I was shopping trying to find something to
wear that covers my giant breasts, I felt sick and need to pee (AGAIN). Then
it struck me, I may actually be pregnant, my heart started racing and I stood
outside a betting shop ( I know...nice) and vomitted again, this time I
brought up beetroot. Then I panicked even more as when I was pregnant with
Ashley I had a big passion for pickled beetroot and yes I ate a full tub
of it yesterday!
I call my daughter "I think I am pregnant" I shout.
out a big sigh "Holy shit mum, you are exaggerating again, do you actually
still have a womb? Do you actually still have sex? On second thoughts dont answer
that please, now I feel sick"
Then she hung
up on me. Two minutes later the phone rang.
a pregnancy test and do it when you get home, honestly how can you be so irresponsible?
Are you trying to ruin your life?" She sounded like me...but posh.
I walked home
and ran through way too many scenarios with variant degrees of shock and
panic. Images of me trying to do stand up and vomit with a huge pregnant belly
at Edinburgh Fringe.
Images of husband
smiling and being over the moon at being a father again ( he would be so happy...weirdo).
me being the oldest woman at the pregnancy classes. Visions of me being sad
at home with a wee baby and my daughter and husband jetting off round the world
with my hard earned cash, sending me postcards and happy messages.
Then a wee
image of me cradling a gorgeous black baby with huge brown eyes!
I liked that
image, although the explanations would be funnier, how do you explain that you
are pregnant to the 'big black man' that lives inside your head?
I carried on
I met Dante
my mate in the street. Dante used to be part of the rock band GUN and is now
in El Presidente, he wrote and performed the title music 'Point of Yes' for
my play that went to Edinburgh and is now going to Soho Theatre in June.
"Janey guess what, I have great news?"
you know is pregnant?"
what?" he then looks confused and shakes his head, laugh and adds "We
are on Top of The Pops next week with our new single 'Rocket'"
great news Dante I am so pleased, well done"
are also playing the John Peel tent at Glastonbury so we can come see you do
am looking forward to watching you guys up there live"
We hug and
go to part, then I realise I need yet another pee, my heart sinks with
fear and I walk with Dante towards his cafe in Cambridge St. He runs
a bistro there with his family and its my daily haunt, I practically wrote
my play there and most of my book as I drank too much coffee and helped
serve lunch when they got too busy.
I sat on the
toilet and felt miserable.
I came out
of the toilet singing.
I am NOT PREGNANT!
Hurrah....a good day all round.
the 13th of April 2005
and night goggles.
I am never
having sex again, can't bear the worry. That's a lie. I will...anyway about
the night goggles...well that's a weird story.
I have an older
brother called MIJ, he is a mad bat-face nutter who lives out near Edinburgh.
MIJ has had a relationship with heroin and other chemicals for many years.
He is now apparently
straight. Despite this problem he is the funniest maddest fantsist in the world,
when we were younger he told me he had turned into Bryan Ferry for a fortnight
in 1975. I didn't really believe him, but watched carefully in case he became
Donny Osmond whom I loved dearly.
is funny and always has a tale to tell, he once convinced me when I was six
years old that the woman across the street who had just had baby, was lying
about her child as she couldn't actually have babies and in fact what
she had in that pram was a wee monkey from Glasgow Zoo. I stalked that woman
for days until she eventually asked me why I was trying to peep into her pram
and I said
see your wee monkey please?"
She beat me
about the head with a handbag and screamed at my mum "Get your fucking
cheeky child away from my baby".
me tonight to tell me he had a mobile phone for Ashley.
Here is the
conversation, I swear this is word for word.
listen I have a phone for Ashley, it has a thermometer, a radio, a camera, a
MPC player (dont ask), a clock, a calculator" (At this point he was now
just listing the office features on this phone) "A alarm, a thing
with a pen on it and night vision goggles"
vision goggles? What the fuck?"
it just night vision actually"
me-"What the fuck is that? I have never heard of that on a phone?"
joke it has night vision Janey!"
He was now
sounding very boastful of his I suppose stolen goods that were being passed
onto my unsuspecting child to be palmed off as a birthday gift, he was proud
to tell me of this night vision wonder.
Yes I am not fucking joking it has night vision, she will be very impressed,
she may need night vision as she is a teenage girl and its a dangerous world,
it could stop her being raped"
on how the fuck can night vision phone stop her from being raped?"
it means she can see the man in the dark and stuff like that"
that could mean she will just be able to identify him which in turn could actually
mean he will kill her so he will not got to prison"
I liked this
conversation in a bizarre way as NO ONE courts my penchant for disasterous incidents
that might happen to my beloved daughter. Whenever I start talking about how
she could be hit by a car or mugged or spiked with drugs, sane people like my
husband and friends tell me to shut up and stop fucking being so melodramatic.
Here was someone agreeing with me and maybe even coming up with some sort of
safety device. Albeit my mental spassy 'Walter Mitty' brother, I was getting
very excited about the 'night vision goggle phone'
the night vision feature, that sounds awesome"
heres what happens, when you press any key and I mean ANY KEY, a green light
is on the screen and you can see everything"
me (now terribly
dissapointed at this sudden awareness of what the 'night vision' is)-"
Its just the green screen lighting up isn't it? MIJ thats just a light that's
on every phone isnt it?"
Janey, its no even that bright to be honest, if she was being attacked she would
need to hold it up really near his face and then it would scare her coz then
her attacker would look a bit like the Hulk and that would frighten her so maybe
tell her not to do that"
MIJ ( now trying
to change the subject)-" Did you know the guy from the Eagles lives round
the corner from us, here in Grangemouth?"
The one with the eye patch"
that not the guy from Dr Hook"
it not just a guy with an eye patch? Maybe a rapist who's eye got fucked up
when someone flashed a green phone screen into his eyeball in a struggle?"
you are gonna be sarcastic I am no talking to you anymore, and anyway it is
him from Dr Hook, I heard him whistle a Dr Hook tune in the post office when
I was in cashing my disability book"
song was it?"
Walking on the Moon"
MIJ need to go, see you tomorrow"
I love him and I cannot wait to see him, he makes me laugh like no one else.
the 13th of April 2005
is in Glasgow this week doing a big sell out tour. I am in awe of him and
would love to meet him again. He is such star. I do not have a ticket though!
I might call
MIJ and see if he has Billy's mobile number! Surely a man so well connected
as MIJ will be able to do this?
this morning as I had really bad nightmares last night, I could not get out
of them and the pain felt physical as I awoke. My legs hurt and there is a pain
in my head that just sits there waiting patiently to pounce. I need to get fitter.
had her FIRST ever tantrum!
Yes she is
18 years old (19 next week) and last night she sat down to her favourite moment
of the week. To watch the O.C. Yes that fabulous teenage sexy L.A drama on E4
Satellite staion. She is addicted to it and nothing but nothing gets in the
way. If she was offered a night with Justin Timberlake she would get on her
sexy boots and go BUT if this was on a Tuesday night...NNNOOOoooooo...she MUST
Ok lets go
back a few weeks here, husband tells me he cannot find his credit card, we have
to cancel both our cards and organise a new one. As soon as the cards came through
we got a note to inform all our direct debit services that took the cash straight
off the card and let them know the new details as everything would now be stopped.
The only thing
we have off the credit card is the TOP UP TV subscription.
Yes! You guesssed
it, as Ashley sat all comfy on the lovely sofa all snuggled in cushions with
her tea and biscuits all set to enjoy.
onto E4, and the television went blank and the screen said
TOP UP TV SUPPLIER
so loud, her dad and I ran into the room, I thought she had been shot by a scary
sniper who lives across the road? (What is wrong with me?).
She yelled "What is wrong with the TOP UP TV?"
My mind went
into overdrive and in my head I could see that piece of paper sitting beside
my bed, I never called them to give them the new number, I fucking forgot.
think I was suppsoe to call them and give them the new credit card number, shit
I forgot sorry"
Dad its all your fault for losing that card, it wasnt even lost mum"
She screamed and threw her biscuits at her dad "He had just put it in the
Welsh Dresser, you big odd, daft, forgetful, stupid and annyong man"
you scary old, fat silly, non-letter opener, you mental attention seeking freak,
you could have called them and sorted this, call NOW!" she threw the hands
free phone at me.
I fumbled through
the letter and as I managed to get connected, Ashley ripped open my wallet,
the velcro rasping as she tore in apart violently, she thrust my credit card
into my hand and stood there red faced hissing, "Do it now"
I started to
laugh, I could hear her dad telling her to calm down as it "Will be back
on at midnight and its repeated again on Sunday" She screamed at him and
threw her slipper at his head. I giggled more as I have never seen her throw
a fit, it was funny.
I managed to
establish with some Scottish boy called Graham that my new credit card is ready
and we went through all the transactions, he assured me the service will be
resumed in half an hour.
now throwing cushions about the room and still shouting.
I could hardly
contain my laughter, she spotted my smirking and ran at me wielding my packet
of Veganin painkillers I got yesterday for period pains. She threw the three
white plastic strips at my head shouting "Mum dont laugh I love the O.C"
down after she realised she could watch it at midnight. We laughed as she picked
up her tantrum props, the slippers, the cushions, the biscuits and my painkiller.
She laughed as well, then as we sat there and waited for the service to resume,
it was nearing midnight and E4 still refused to work. I tried calling TOP UP
but they were closed by now. It still isn't working, Ashley knows she can watch
it up in her grandads house on Sunday if need be.
So after nearly
19 years I saw my child finally have a tantrum.
Today she is calm. TOP UP TV is back, she is hugging the TV as I write.
the 14th of April 2005
girls and Peter Kay
Got a call
from The Babycham Funny Women people as it seems the stand up competition for
funny women is not getting enough females on board. I am hosting the Glasgow
heat, and am hoping a wee bit of press may alert all those women out there with
Celtic comedy bones will come down to the venue
Saturday 14th May
Baltica Comedy Cavern, 36 Bell Street
Merchant City, Glasgow
0141 552 5924
I love working
alongside a whole bunch of women for the night, as a female comic its rare to
be on the bill with ANOTHER woman, as comedy bookers tend to only book One
tits on the gig. I know..how weird is that? You never really think about
it until you are on the bill and there is another woman there, its nice.
was asked about doing gigs in Greece with a comedy company, but they had to
refuse me in the end as they only get one room for the comics and as the other
comic was a man it would be too awkward for us to have to share a room, so I
lost the job to another man! Nice! To be honest there is very few women comics
I would actually share a room with as well as the boys! Its fucking assuming
girls can only share and if you put two comics of opposite sex in a room we
will have sex! What if we were both gay? Or one gay? Why do we only get one
fucking room is a better question!
news for you, I was in Kings of Comedy live on TV every week on Channel 4, and
I shared a room with six men, and guess what
back to the female comedy night at Baltica -Ashley my daughter says she will
do a slot on the night, she did stand up when she was 11 years old until she
was 13 and still occasionally does a wee gig, here and there. She makes me laugh
so much at home, I am glad she has her fathers height but my humour!
interesting and challenging for her to do comedy as an adult; she says it scares
the shit out of her, as she had no fear standing on stage as a child. She gigged
back then with Peter Kay, Adam Bloom, Omid Djhallai and many others. She loved
it and made friends.
Last year in
December, I was in London doing comedy at Soho Theatre and Ashley flew down
later in the week to see me, so I went to airport to meet her. Standing in Heathrow
domestic arrivals, I spotted the great Peter Kay, he remembered me and we had
a hug and a laugh, I told him I was waiting on Ashley coming through the gate
and he was asking how old she was now and stuff. Just then I spotted her and
pointed her out and he couldnt believe how tall she had got. Then he watched
her coming through the gate and started shouting on her and he stood there with
his arms outstretched and she ran and hugged him like they were really old pals!
She had only met him once before! He teased her about her boots and style and
chatted for a while.
away to join me and said How surreal was that? I was coming through the
gate and saw this big round man that looked a helluva lot like Peter Kay shouting
Ashley, and then as I got closer I thought Holy shit that
is Peter Kay, wasnt
that lovely of him to stop and spend time?
it was, he is a genuinely nice man
cool people I would not mind being locked up in a hotel room in Greece with
Peter Kay, how funny would that be?
So if there
is any women out there near Scotland and you want to come along for the night
and be funny or support funny women, then Ashley and I will be there waiting
to say hello and give you a smile. I will even hug you.
Baltica Comedy Cavern, 36 Bell Street- Glasgow
15th of April 2005
BBC Radio and backseat booze sellers!
I was shopping
today, last minute stuff for tomorrow. I bought a necklace and a wee bag all
in a lovely blue colour that I like. I wondered what the hell I am going
to wear to the BAFTA's on Sunday night! I actually have nothing really planned;
I have packed two dresses and a couple of tops and skirts.
I met up with
Monica's sister, Mum and her wee niece Gabrielle whom I adore. They are in Glasgow
for a couple of days; I bought wee Gabrielle a colouring book, and new pens
and a big book. She loved it and wee both sat and drew nice pictures. As I was
in Jo Malone (for those who dont know she makes the best fragrances and
candles in the WORLD) Gabrielle skipped into Accessorize and begged for a plastic
crown with shiny plastic jewels. Gabrielle came swaning into Jo Malone resplendently
adorned complete with sparkly crown. The woman assistant who wrapped my sumptuous
body lotion in a gorgeous box, spotted Gabrielle in her crown and smiled and
bowed, Gabrielle simply waved her royal hand and smirked at the woman as if
to say " I know you are jealous of my shiny crown, but deal with it
It was good
to spend time with the wee one. I do love her.
Later on that
night I had to go to Arches to do BBC Radio 5 Live 'Comedy/Politics' debate
live radio show! The small crowd gathered round as I tried hard to be 'funny'
about politicians, it was annoying as they kept cutting me off and going to
another subject or guest. It was ok, but not great.
Ashley my daughter
sat in the audience and watched the show and yawned a few times, i could hardly
The show wrapped
up and we waited on Argyle St for my BBC car to take us home. Just then a silver
car came screeching round, it slowed down and indicated to me to come over.
Ashley looked at me with a puzzled look on her face and slunk behind a stone
pillar. I leaned over to the car; the driver was thin with spiky hair and told
me to open his passenger door.
I stood there
and thought for a second and pulled on the door handle, as soon as I opened
it I knew he was not a cab.
I am no a cab, listen do you drink this stuff" he leaned into the back
seat and I could see plastic Morrisons bags with instantly recognisable
red vodka tops peeping out of the white plastic. He pulled back the bags and
I could see that is was Smirnoff Bottles.
what makes you think I am going to buy vodka from a man who stops me at
the kerb in a silver car? Are you ill?"
about her?" he points to my daughter who is standing there in a mini skirt
and knee high boots and then said " Does she want a drink?"
funnily enough I dont fancy buying alcohol from a wee man in a silver
car and passing it onto my daughter, weird that eh? And to be honest we are
actually standing outside a pub, where we could get drink from someone who doesn't
drive it through the streets first"
Do you think she might want a ride home?"
NO, I am not letting my child get into your car, dont you have people
to stop and offer vodka to?"
need to lighten up you weird old woman" he screamed and screeched off sticking
up two fingers at me.
I laughed as
I walked over to Ashley who asked "Did he think I was a hooker, did he
think you were my old pimp?"
I need to re
address my style. I have no idea what I actually look like, I was dressed
nice for the radio show but apparently I look like fucking Huggy Bear.
Ashley and I laughed all the way home, somewhere in Glasgow there is a man who sells vodka from his back seat, Glasgow's smallest exclusive bar.
15th of April 2005
As usual, I
wake with a start when i have an early flight, nearly screamed then realised
that it was only 7am. We managed to get on an earlier flight because we were
so early at the airport, as Ashley was desperate to get there! Was nice to go
that wee bit earlier and we sat beside Sharleen Spiteri from Texas on the flight.
Ashley so coveted her Converse boots, as soon we landed she hit town and bought
The hotel is
just amazing its the Atheneum on Piccadilly, lovely big 5 star suite, this book
had better sell or I will have Ashley out there as I pimp her to pay the bills!
(am Joking I have got it covered, I can hear my husband scream back in Glasgow
as I write this, although he doesn't read this blog, my lovely wee step mum
does and she will call him and tell him that-)
a) I have booked
B) I am writing
about prostituting his only child
I wish my step
mum (whom I love dearly) did not read this, it makes me feel odd, she is such
a lady and this is really literary scum as far as she is concerned!
not it as he does try to not read anything or watch anything I do as he feels
he wants to keep out of 'all that showbiz shit' as he calls it.
so, its hardly fucking showbiz and it can be shit.
Well, we went up to BAFTA offices to pick up tickets and had drinks in the newly refurbished BAFTA bar, very swish.
I am now excited
and we have a party planned for this evening, we are meeting old friends. Ashley
has 99 things packed to choose from, whereas my fat ass can only fit into the
one pair of jeans (that may be used as a tent at Glastonbury) that my lardy
ass can fit into. Lovely!
My boobs have
got so big that I may need to order them a bra from Kvarener Tall Ship Makers,
as they may be the only people who can handle that amount of fabric and supports.
I have worked
out a good diet and read on the plane about a woman who lost SEVEN stone, the
plan is...I dont eat till January next year, which is good coz it's my birthday
I have left
Ashley in Balans in Old Compton St, a great place to eat and run by gay men.
Two things could have happened since I left her 20 minutes ago
1) She has
sung some showtunes and has the staff dancing 'buffalo ball step change' type
moves, as they twirl and side step the customers and 'ballet' into the street.
2) They have
tossed her onto the street for assuming gay men like showtunes.
the 16th of April 2005
we got on our gladrags and hit the town, well I say 'We hit the town' in actual
fact Ashley hit the town, I kinda hobbled, as my leg hurts.
It took her
half an hour to go from devil to diva, I remained looking like the second stage
of 'possessed by demons' no amount of Jo Malone body lotion and Touche Eclate'
make up concealer made any difference. The huge marble bathroom has very harsh
lighting (and mirrors to show you from all angles!) I felt like crawling under
a blanket or just dating David Blunkett whichever is easiest on the eye.
We did have
fun in Soho, the night was warm and the city is buzzing with people. We went
to my old haunt and where I used to run comedy The Atlantic bar in Glasshouse
St. The huge doorman who is six foot five picked me up to hug and kiss me (Meaoow!Grrrrr)
and he dropped me suddenly as he set eyes on my younger, taller prettier version
of me whose skin still fits her-Ashley.
what's your name?" He smiles and leans down to kiss her cheek.
demurely, he becomes all manly and protective. I shout "Oi That's my daughter,
hands off, attention on me"
They both ignore
me and I decided this might be the time to set fire to my leg to get attention.
After some introductions, we walk downstairs. "He is lovely who is he?"
Atlantic Bar doorman whom I have known for about five years, but suddenly he
has forgotten me," I laugh but I realise that I will never be sexy, sassy,
smart or anything like that, I am the mother of a child who is now a sexy woman
and that makes me ancient.
I watched her
walk to the bar to order drinks and I watched men watching her. I dont think
I ever had that in my life, I am not being self doubting or self pitying here,
but I was never the girl that turned people's heads. I was the 'funny one' that
they would chat to, not the tall sexy one they all wanted to date. That does
not mean I was never sexy or pretty to some degree but I never had that 'Head
turning' factor that I see in so many women. It did not make my confidence dip
but I just acknowledged it and smiled, I am just me. I am 44 and look what
I managed to produce - compliments to the chef - is what I say! There were many
beautiful women there last night, all confident and sexy and having fun and
that was awesome to see. It's good to watch them having fun, dancing and not
all of them need a man to buy them drinks.
I chatted and we bought a few cocktails, I am not really accustomed to booze
and two drinks makes me pissed! Ashley went very quiet at one point whilst I
was enjoying my pissed-ness and she said very solemnly "Mum I have something
very serious to tell you"
Me (heart thumping)
"What is it?"
I am a lesbian, I am gay, I am sorry if this is not the time to pick to tell
levels disappeared, I looked at her and she was quite teary looking, I was not
worried but a wee bit shocked, this would explain why she is not bringing home
boys or dating.
I looked at
her and said "Good for you, what ever makes you happy you know I love you"
I am joking, I was awfully bored and you went quiet, how was that for acting,
did you see my eyes. I can cry on demand"
I laughed out
loud, but then I thought what if she was just saying that and was testing the
water, and backed off, did my face show an emotion that made her retract? I
voiced this to her and she smiled. "No Mum trust me, I am not gay, probably
life would be easier but No, I am not and your face was fine, I am lucky that
you would support me in anything, and dad would be cool. Do you think that big
doorman is single?"
I am constantly
amazed by her madness and I do know where she gets that from.
We are off
to the park today to rehearse 'Smack-The Point of Yes' as I performing it on
Monday in Glasgow.
Will be funny to watch tourists run as I scream about heroin and shoplifters in Hyde Park.
17th of April 2005
and a bacon roll
morning, I have just woke up and I have NOT got a hangover but I know a girl
who has. Ashley! Well not a hangover really more a lack of sleep and big sticky
face covered in last nights make up, her pillow is the Turin Shroud, i am sure
I can see Jesus and Bungle from Rainbow imprinted on her expensive Egyptian
cotton pillow case.
We had the
best night ever last night. She had a work out and I did an interview for the
Independent paper, we then did make up and dressed and went to meet my best
mate Monica, who lives in Chelsea.
After a few
bars and a few drinks we ended up at a fancy schmancy night club in Mayfair
owned by an old friend of mine from over ten years ago, he knew I had a daughter
but assumed she was still the nine year old he remembered in pictures of her
that i showed him, he was in for a shock!
The club was
heaving. Now I cant stand busy mad places because I am over forty and need a
quiet room, with space to sit down and fold my jacket, keep an eye on my bag
and talk about me for forty six hours. We got a good table that had been reserved
in advance and Cristal Champagne was delivered in a big lighty up coloured ice
bucket that changed colour every twenty seconds or I saw an aurora borealis
in a night club-you work it out.
brightened up, there was 'hot fit' guys everywhere.
What the fuck
is it with that combination of Cristal Champagne and Destiny's Child that makes
you dance that much? I dont know, but I danced, Monica danced and Ashley never
sat on her ass once!
I saw a young
very thin hyperactive blonde girl barely dressed and staggering near our table
( I hate that as they ALWAYS fall on me, I can spot them from 50 feet, they
bob and weave and then fall on my table splattering drinks ).
This time I
was ready, she seemed to have no real control over her hips or knee joints and
her erratic dancing/staggering actually worried me. Five times she got so near
she stumbled against the table, luckily I had my bodyblocking technique going
on, I covered the table with my body (not hard) and every time she shunted up
against us, I held onto the champagne bucket with one hand and table with other,
that stopped the lot from toppling. I told her three times to fuck off and fall
elsewhere, then I looked at her, she was very young.
I went to the
loo and she was in there, she was coked out of her head, she looked about 16.
I started to
turn into her mother and watched as a few older guys were passing her about
as they danced and touched her, then to my horror, her skinny vest slipped off
and down from her shoulder revealing her body more. By this time her body was
permanently shaped into a weird 'S' shape and she was buckling. I got security
to get her out and find her friends to get her home. Luckily, she was with a
big group who finally took responsibility for her.
It made me
sad, it really was none of my business and who the hell am I to get involved?
Anyway it kinda
made my night a wee bit more enjoyable that she was gone and hopefully safe.
When I got
back to my table Monica was sitting with the tallest, muscled and cutest black
man I have ever seen. Ashley smiled and gave me the thumbs up to indicate that
Monica may want some privacy with her new found friend. They had a dance and
I was in charge of bag watch. The club owner came over and we had a nice chat,
he could not believe Ashley was an adult and he danced with her and we had more
champagne delivered to the table.
over as I gulped down yet another glass of bubbles! I was a bit tipsy, she smiled
and handed me a tiny piece of paper saying "This is his phone number please
put it my bag" She promptly went back to dance with him.
I stuffed it
into my mouth - I ate it for a laugh, as I thought she was pretending to have
his number, all the people at the table laughed as I did it and cheered me on.
We left together
and got cabs back to our beds later that night, Ashley slightly drunk and danced
I woke up this
morning and was horrified to recall eating that phone number.
me this morning to wake me up and said
a great day, we had a fun night and somewhere in my bag is a big lovely man's
I want to die,
what if he was 'THE ONE'?
I may die.
18th of April 2005
and live stars
The big day
WE left the
hotel on time and as we got into the car, the tall and very formally dressed
doorman told us that Paula Yates had won the marathon.
uninterested anyway) Isnt she dead?
she was the first over the tape at the London marathon; she was crap in Greece
at the Olympics but was amazing today!
Me-Thats Paula Radcliffe
Doorman-Who is Paula Yates?
Me-Dead, bye then
Well -both of them have pissed in the street, so maybe Paula Radcliffe was running in the spirit of Paula Yates.
The BAFTAs were amazing but exhaustive fun!
up lovely and was so excited, I was wearing a new lipstick and new pair of knickers,
both were invisible to the eye to be honest, but nice none the less.
The red carpet
experience was great for her; she walked gracefully whilst I shuffled like a
geisha behind her.
ceremony was long and a bit tiresome and getting onto the celebrity buses
to Grosvenor House was fun, all those famous people queuing and running in the
eaten all day and had anticipated getting dressed and getting her ready, I was
so nervy and full of caffeine that it was hopeless even attempting to chew food,
so by the time we got to the dinner, I was hungry but we could hardly eat at
all. (Maybe this is the way to lose weight? Just attend so many ceremonies and
get constantly nervous?)
We both ate then danced ( I know, me dancing dont even picture it, but I saw fucking celebrities dance worse than me)
to at least forty six songs; I could only manage a few as after ten minutes
my eye broke. You know that bit of elastic that holds your eye to your brain?
Well after a few dances mine snapped and I had a sharp headache and had to sit
down and breathe slower.
Ashley on the other hand, has skin that fits her and is full of vitamins and nutrients and can dance for hours and hours. I got tired and chatted to a woman who was very drunk, quite famous and very sad because her man left her .so I cuddled and consoled some actress. Nice
Here is Ashleys version of the night, because she met more people and seemed to have more fun than me-
First of all I would like to scrap my mothers comment: She scrubs up well Like Im some sort of Dickensian street urchin who passed as a princess.
We need to
start from the beginning of that day to truly understand what went on. I woke
up at nine with and then promptly fell asleep again. Mum on the other hand stole
the banana I had been saving for my breakfast, claiming that it smelled funny
(a likely story) and went out. When I awoke it was already 2pm and we had to
leave the hotel at five so I jumped up had a shower which washed all the fake
tan Id painstakingly applied the day before- off, then Mum did my hair
in those roller rod things. I think she enjoys it far too much as they rip the
scalp off of you when youre putting them in.
When we left
the hotel mum looked lovely and I looked like an older more wanton Shirley Temple
(The hair rollers had worked a little too well.)
When we got
to the red carpet we were too early so we got out of the Taxi and walked down
to the Tescos in our frocks to get some juice because my tongue was sticking
to the roof of my mouth.
When we were
watered, we walked to the red carpet, I was terrified that Id trip and
fall and the whole world would see the big blue knickers I had on under my thin
tights. Mum on the other hand was behind me muttering: smile and keep
your chin up! I did as I was told and it went surprisingly well. A few
of the autograph hunters looked at me as if to say is she or isnt
she famous? they soon realised I was not.
The hall quickly filled with, actors, musicians, directors, producers, press and other industry folk. I have to say I was truly taken aback by the sheer velocity of the whole event.
and anticipation was quickly gone when the ceremonies began and I needed to
pee. I had drank the complimentary bottle of water given to me and mum being
the daft old woman that she is had immediately lost hers, so I gave her a packet
of salty pretzels to see how long it took for her to need a drink so that I
would not be the only person needing to vacate the hall mid ceremony.
went by pretty quickly though some said not quickly enough; I dont think
anyone apart from the nominees actually enjoy these things.
was nice and quite uneventful, we were sitting next to nice people, I didnt
eat the food mainly because I work in catering and I know how haphazardly these
meals are thrown together.
The Party was the best bit, mum and I walked into this big hall lit with pink and red lights, at this point it wasnt very busy, though the music was blaring.
We found a
big black patent leather seat which was like something out of a dominatrix dungeon.
As soon as we sat down we got chatting to the other occupant of the couch, his
name was Gerard and he was one of the Shameless cast. He had to be one of the
nicest, down to earth and funniest young men I have met. He took me and my old
mammy up to the dance floor, we were the first people to dance and it was hysterical,
after about 2 minutes, mum got all arthritic and had to leave the dance floor
and me and this guy were left standing there like two great plumbs.
We got bored
of dancing to the countless Michael Jackson tracks the DJ was playing so he
started doing impressions of what he would be like if he was wearing my high
heels, I then had to run to the toilet because I nearly peed myself at the looks
on peoples face as this boy staggered around the dance floor pretending to wear
I have to say
that the women there were stunning, and there was me with a Marks and Spencers
skirt pulled up over my boobs to look like a short cocktail dress, my hair finally
dropping out of the tight curls flapping about my head and my mother plodding
along behind me, giving any man who looked at me the evil eye.
I settled in
a little after an hour, the self consciousness was gone and I found myself dancing
madly with half the cast of The Bill (long running cop drama on
ITV), there were three main points I noticed about these guys:
1) They were
all quite drunk and mad.
2) They are
all really small (in fact practically every actor I met was tiny, when mum was
looking for me she said I stuck out over all their heads and she didnt
have to look hard)
3) The old
guys in that cast can seriously dance; the old actors whod been in it
since I was a wee lassie were out- dancing all the youngsters, doing angry hip
hop style moves.
It was only near the end of the night that I looked around me and realised my new found friends were the people who I had idolised as a child watching them on the TV screen week in and week out, these are the people my friends scream about when they watch an episode of their show, the people who can evoke tears with one look or line.
I have to say
its a weird feeling but an easily overcome one because everyone in that
room was in the same boat; they were all just big attention seekers like me
and my mum.
the 19th of April 2005 @ 01:27:37 AM
Posted by Steve:
Hello and Congratulations,
your Journal has been selected as one fo this weeks Bravenet Journals of the
Your journal was nominated by a fan of your work and we wholeheartedly concur... this is definitely one of the best Journals we've seen. Great work, keep it up!
the 19th of April 2005
Ashley is 19 years old today!
I am so happy
that she reached this age without getting pregnant or married. The first to
do so in a long line of females in my generation. I was married as a teenager,
so was my sister and my mother and my grand mother and her mother!
She got the
much heralded 'phone' from my brother MIJ, the onw with the amazing night vision...it
doesnt work, the reciever ariel is broken and there is a weird looking video
captured on it that involves a childs voice saying "The shop had
an evil man inside it" and if you look at the screen the camera is pointed
to small scrawly pencil drawings as this childs wee voice talks of the 'evil'
I screamed and dropped the phone as the voice screamed and the child shouted
" He is killing me"
Holy fuck a
modern technilogical version of 'Rear Window'
to solve the puzzle and it turns out to be his grand son wee Connar had made
a short film with a story board of a horror film he thought up and he did all
the voices and narrative with the illustrations! He is seven!
What a talent,
we thought MIJ had been taken by strange aliens ( He lives in Grangemouth near
Bo'ness which is the UFO capital of the world!)
WE also thought
it was a thing like that film 'The Ring'
I have to go,
my sister just called and has to go to hospital as she think she has a hernia,
she wants me to go with her.
a) I hate hospitals
b) She will be getting all the attention
c) I will need to break a limb on the way there to get more attention than her.
the 19th of April 2005
Still the 19th
of April, I had to rush off to meet my sister at the local hospital, she has
a suspected hernia. I felt awful, as I had organised a birthday lunch for Ashley
and was planning to buy her an IPOD, but my sister had to come first.
was so bloody busy then after a fashion we were finally taken into a consulting
room. A very young oriental man came in and in his slightly broken English,
he managed to get most of the info needed from my sister.
He went to
take blood but then could not get the needle in, my sister was crying and I
wanted to punch him on the head. I asked him "What is the current records
on MRSA bug in this hospital?"
long have you been a doctor?"
year and half a month"
you killed anyone yet?"
My sister looked
at me in horror and fear.
but I nearly killed.."
ok I am only joking"
My sister started
to cry so I stopped annoying the doc and hugged her.
She is being
kept in overnight to get the hernia scanned better. I am so bloody exhausted
as last night the minute we got home from London I had to rush off to Yoker
and perform my play "Smack -The Point of Yes" for the drug forum people.
I was very
very tired as we had only four hours sleep, then got up to catch the flight.
I was worried that I hadn't performed the play to the best of my ability,
its about drugs coming to Glasgow and how it affected the people in the streets,
its also a bit funny despite the bleak subject matter.
I did the best
I could and was terrified to read the review today in the Glasgow Evening Times.
I opened the paper with scared stiff fingers, saw the photo of me and gingerly
read the review.
IT WAS GREAT!
HURRAAHHH! Here is a wee snippet
hones her storytelling skills every week in comedy clubs, but she's even more
engaging when sinking her teeth into subjects that matter. She tells us she's
no better than addicts...just luckier." Glasgow Evening Times
I am happy.
I am so glad I did the play well, just got a phone call, my sister has been
let out of hospital and they think it is just some soft tissue.
All good! I
also managed to go to shops and get Ashley her very coveted IPOD and in PINK!-
the 19th of April 2005
This has been
the most stressed out two days of my life, well not since I gave birth have
I been that stressed I suppose. I had to get so much done today and I feel as
though I am just chasing my tail round in circles.
always makes me reminisce of past days. I was so scared to go to hospital and
actually give birth to her, I thought I could be the first woman ever to just
stay pregnant forever. Mind you I feel fat enough just now to convince
me that I am eternally pregnant.
I cannot believe
she is 19 years old, the day I delivered her I was just so worried she would
die or I would do something that harmed her instantly.
As it turned
out she refused to be born and stayed in a state of labour for three whole days.
I thought I was going to die, when she was finally dragged out of my body, I
felt like a torn and ripped Christmas stocking that had just delivered
the greatest gift to all ! My husband was so happy when he saw her, he held
her gently then promptly felt faint and almost fell on the floor holding his
I watched as
a wee Scottish nurse, scooped the baby from and him and with her other hand
and leg she lowered my husband to the floor, where he lay for a while!
Both of us
on our backs and Ashley being the centre of attention in a brightly lit hospital
I am finally
chilled out, she is making me tea and I need to stop stressing and enjoy her
company before she goes to Uni and out of my life for a few years.
I cant even
begin to think about that, how will I cope without her smile every day?
I am back to stressing....shit...
the 20th of April 2005
I know what
your thinking, why is that todays title?
Well to be
honest and old face from past called me today, and that can always throw me
back a bit. I used to live in the East End of Glasgow and I ran a bar there.
I married into a family who did use/hide guns and weapons (its a very long complicated
story), anyway for many years it was just the way things were in that part of
the city, I never used guns obviously ( though I did get to shoot one for a
treat in the middle of a field at night, it smells funny and the kick back is
awesome, I never actually shot anything that night-I hope!)
So about ten
minutes ago of one my in-laws cousins called me to say they saw me in the newspaper
last night and they want to come see my play. I explained it is next performed
in London so that would be difficult for them. We chatted for a while and I
keep forgetting it's been so long since I was part of that whole scene. He was
the guy who helped us when we got caught with guns in my in laws house.
I do sometimes
miss the old pub and the people there. He chatted for a while then hung up.
I ended up
sitting there remembering a lot of my past and recalling how scared I was when
the police actually found those guns and semtex in my father in laws house.
As I am writing
this I realise i did actually shoot someone as a child, here's what happened,
my brother had a slug gun that fired metal pellets. I was so fascinated with
this rifle that I used to play with it when he was out of the house, so one
day I opened the window a tiny bit and slipped the nozzle of the gun out just
I sat there
for ages looking down the cross hairs on the sight part that sits above the
weapon. Just then I saw a man I knew to be my school pal's father, I squeezed
the trigger and felt the gun go POP! I saw that poor man fall to the ground
screaming holding his ass! I was terrified and fell to the floor, clutching
the gun. I scuttled across the floor like a commando and hid the gun back under
the bed, slowly I crawled back along the floor and watched Mr Simpson stand
there shouting angrily at whoever the fuck shot his ass.
My heart was
thudding in my chest and I was so scared he would know it was me. I could not
believe my first attempt actually hit a target!
I went into
the living room really worried and after a while furtively asked my mum if a
pellet could kill someone if they were shot in the bum.
I suppose it could kill as the pellet could travel through the blood stream
and then go into his heart and kill him stone dead"
I sat there
and could feel the blood drain from my face in fear.
did you know someone who got shot by a slug gun?" Then she got more hysterical
"Has your fucking daft brother shot someone with that fucking slug gun?"
i was just asking"
I was worried
about going to school the next day in case Mary Simpson told me her father was
dead after being shot in the bum and the pellet had travelled to his heart and
killed him stone dead.
when I worked in the pub in Shettleston where I met my husband, I used to serve
Mr Simpson his beer. I used to watch him closely and stare at his ass trying
to imagine if the slug was still there or did it just bounce off him. I am sure
he thought I fancied him, I was always checking his old ass every time he came
I have so much
to do today and Ashley has a flu.
Poor wee chicken
I will go get her some painkillers.
the 20th of April 2005
I am using
my laptop as my main PC is being a screwy unhelpful bastard today. I am not
as stressed now that I am getting through stuff, I have to confirm lots of gigs
and book signings and the Scottish book launch. Also need to get tent and stuff
ready to fly to London as I need to get other luggage and bits for my work down
there, I am demented trying to do ANYTHING other than fucking sleep in a tent,
am still trying to get a motorhome thing that we can park at back of cabaret
tent like other comics last year, I hated sleeping in the tent, drove me mad.
I loved performing
at Glastonbury, it was really nerve racking but fun at the same time, I had
fun hanging out with people I had hardly met before like the late ledgendary
Malcolm Hardee. He took me a good walk all round Glastonbury showing me stuff
and pointing out various bits of interest. The walk took ages as he seemed to
know everyone and they all stopped for a quick chat with him, it was like taking
a stroll with Mick Jagger...everyone wanted to touch him and laugh for a moment
in his presence. I am sure there will be many people who will miss him terribly
this year, his untimely death shocked the many many people he knew in the comedy
industry, music world and just in general. He was so well thought of.
I have to either
get a tent or quickly become the elderly groupie of some famous rock star with
a huge....star like winnebago!
Must go and
sleep, have just downloaded loads of really cool hip hop/R&B music onto
my IPOD and cant wait to lie in bed and listen to it as my husband moans that
he can hear sweary rap as he tries to listen to some strange boring report about
titanium drills being exported to Botswana or some dull dreary play about a
minister's wife in a rural village coping with too many parishoners gossiping
about her red lipstick! (trust me I heard part one last week, I almost sat up
and drank petrol for relief).
I like sweary
the 21st of April 2005
sunny in Glasgow today, what a difference!
I finally got
mail today, I think our postman has died and in his place they have given us
a geriatric asthmatic donkey with an attitude problem and aversion to handling
paper. We can go four days without a letter then get eleven at once all with
dates that are usually five or six days old!
I have finally
got my second part of my advance payment from Random/Ebury publishers. It is
only three months late. There is a reason for this. My literary agent is
about as functional as my postman. I
was directed to her by someone as I did have a publishing deal but NO agent
to do it for me. I had the book commissioned all I needed was
someone to broker the deal-how easy was that?
She was nice
at first and then she has proved to be very incompetent, never answering
calls and when I once flew to London to ask her for a copy of my contract, she
refused to see me and told me to sit in a cafe in Soho and she would send an
office assistant round with it! Subsequently when my second payment was due
in December, she never asnwered any of my calls to get it sorted, so I spoke
to the publishers myself and hinted that they send ME the cheque direct and
let my very unavailable agent invoice me for her 'cut' and I would send it after
a few ignored phone calls!
when she got wind of that SHE EMAILED ME IMMEDIATELY!
Anway so I
have the cheque, I smiled and opened the next letter which was my VISA bill
and then I stopped smiling as that just cancels out my book cheque...lovely.
I am hoping
this book sells well as I have over spent a wee bit and hate worrying about
cash, failing that I will sell Ashley on Ebay, she may fetch a few pennies?
My best mate
Monica who lives in London has had the busiest week ever, she does PR and management
for restaurants and chef's.
Her main client is Heston Bluemental and he just won "The Best Restaurant in the World!"
I mean you
cant get any better than that! He is a THREE Michelin star chef and this latest
award means his cooking and menu and restaurant beat EVERY single other
restaurant in world, he is officially superior to all those chef's on TV 'Jamie
Oliver, Gordon Ramsay and the rest.
been dealing with world wide TV and press all week and has no time to talk
as Heston is being feted around the globe, well done to him and well done to
my pal, if he is the best chef in the world she is the best PR!
I am off to to work out how much I will get for Ashley on Ebay.
the 21st of April 2005
diary years ago (a true excerpt from this day April 21st 1979)
I went to the
drawer under my bed to get out an old photo frame as I have new pictures to
put up. As I dragged the huge heavy drawer out, I noticed a familiar dark purple
cover with gold letters on 'Letts Diary 1979' I couldn't stop the smile
from spreading over my face, I remember sitting in my mum's house at aged eighteen
(the year I met my husband).
here is the entry for today......
I hope that
shitey song Bright Eyes is not number one this Sunday, I fucking hate it, some
shit song about a rabbit, load of pish. I want Squeeze singing 'cool for cats'
to be the number one. Cats are better than rabbits any day, i could kill a rabbit
but not a cat, I killed my cousins rabbit a few years ago but that was an accident,
I would not kill a rabbit deliberately.
They keep playing
the 'rabbit song' in the Palaceum (this is the bar I worked in at weekends and
where I met my husband). The boyfriend is now the fiance as we got engaged on
Tuesday 17th April. He took me round to the beer barrels at the side of
the bar and I sat there waiting to see why he was so excited, he gave me this
wee box and in it is a beautiful gold ring with a diamond. It's called a solitaire.
I can't believe I have a diamond.
I showed it to my mammy and she said it was nice and she thinks he is good for me. I went over to Peter's to see her, I hate his house. it's really really clean and frightens me a wee bit, he looks at me funny and she talks shite when he is there, it's like she doesn't talk like she always does and he makes snide faces at her when I laugh at him for something.
He knows I
know he is a cunt, I wish that wee bastard was dead. I can see a big punch mark
on her arm and she said it wasn't Peter it was when she fell drunk.
I bought a
beige dress and it looks ok with my black shoes.
I laughed reading
it and felt sad inside, I remember writing that passage. I remember my mum as
I wrote that part of the diary. Her boyfriend Peter had been beating her up
and all this came out eventually.
Oh well, I
started this as a happy thing and it ended up quite sad didn't it?
22nd of April 2005
and Red magazine
day in Glasgow! I am so hungry and really want to stuff myself with cakes and
buns but cant I must clean the house. The worse thing is - every TV programme
at this time of day is just full of cookery shows or people who want to make
their home better.
I dont really
understand people who spend all their time 'Improving their home' the money
spent is just astronomical! It's just a house, why do people get so obsessed
by soft furnishings and painted skirting boards?
I am the woman
who finds things in skips and takes them home! That big lamp I found works perfectly,
my daughter Ashley says it will have some electronic fault and burn us all to
death in the night! Pah!
I have a few
interviews to do soon and am not sure how I feel about that, it's all to do
with the book coming out. I am quite happy to talk to people I know about it,
but chatting to people I dont know who have just read my book makes
me feel weird. I never really know how people really feel about the book, as
they all say nice things. No doubt when the press start slagging me off, I will
fucking wish that statement hadn't came out of my mouth!
God knows how
I am going to behave when I have to do those live TV shows chatting about 'my
life'. I will probably freeze and talk shit! I have done live TV before when
doing comedy and stuff, but this is different.
I wrote myself goes in RED magazine in May as does the ELLE interview. I now
have Guardian, Times and various others to get through. All will be fine I am
Must lose weight
incase they describe me as a wee fat rolly polly woman.
I really want
cake. Even as I sit here and write I can feel my boobs getting in the way of
my hands, that is not a good sign unless I am 23 years old and incredibly slim
with a penchant for shagging TV soap stars and hanging outside clubs in my knickers.
I am 44 years
old and if I am found outside a nightclub in my knickers then you know that
I have finally snapped and took to drinking petrol, snorting drugs and running
through the streets in my pants screaming about talking animals!
Wont that be
a good article for the Guardian to write about?
I need to go eat. See you tomorrow.
the 23rd of April 2005
me chatting about my oversized boobies on that last mail, I got an email from
a comic in London. He told me I had lovely boobs and at this I said" How
the hell would you know?"
Well I still have a pic of them on my mobile!"
I have a picture of you sitting on top of a police car with you top pulled up
and you have on a lovely pink bra"
yes, I remember now"
Let me fill
you in on this sordid story, last August at the Edinburgh Fringe I had been
to the Bound and Gagged comedy party (trust me thats their name -nothing to
do with bondage) I was having fun and not really drinking and then the police
arrived, I NEVER stay anywhere in a house when the police arrive, last time
I did, I was charged with possesing fire arms. So I ran down all the stairs
in this big Edinburgh tenement, the old building had a big wide spiral grey
stone staircase and an old rickety wooden curved bannister, it seemed to go
on forever. I was near dizzy by the time I finally ran out of the door
at the bottom. I was amazed to see it was daylight. It was 6am.
I was laughing
at the sight of all of these comics in the street and on spotting the empty
police car parked at the bottom of the flats, turning on their drug fucked heels
and scuttling away. Then I spotted a female comic I know,
"Janey the police car has keys in why dont we steal it, for a laugh..?"
Now I know
I have a bit of a reputation for being 'mad' but fuck that!
lets not do that".
then I dare you to climb on top of the car and show me your tits!"
then!" ( remember I am an attention seeker)
onto the bonnet of the vehicle, pulled up my top, I was grateful to know
I had on a nice bra and balanced myself on the police car, to the
cheers of a few comics, I even danced.
At this point,
I heard the police radio's crackling as they too descended the stairs. I jumped
off the bonnet of the car and ran laughing to my festival flat, fell asleep
and forgot all about it.
and this phone call.
He sent me
the pic by text and to be honest, I like it. I am so glad I bought the bra as
well, Bravissimo is a great shop for big boobed woman like me.
So as I sit here, late at night on a Friday in Glasgow, I have bushy hair as I can't be arsed blow drying it, I have on mismatched pyjamas, no make up and a spot on my chin, I smile . I know that sometimes I can stop being a housewife, a mother and a wife and sometimes I can get my tits out and dance on a police car, all I need is some encouragement!
24th of April 2005
crash and Catholics
yes my pc has
crashed totally, i have effectively lost most of my emails (again) I have lost
half of my diary (Thank God John Fleming who does my website and stuuf had most
of it) the rest of the gigs and info were wrote on a bit of paper, screwed up
in the bin. SO I had to wade through yucky bits of steak pie, ashtray material
and stuff I have no idea what it is to get to that wee bit of paper to get the
other gigs. AARRGGHH!
As if that
is not fucked up enough i did a gig last night at Blackfriars in Glasgow. A
gig that had no real door control, people were walking in talking, there was
a private party up the back of this small long room celebrating 'Real Ale'.
Yes, you read
right, Real fucking Ale!
A bunch of
cardigan wrapping, organic, sandal flapping, thick rimmed specatacle wearing,
bushy haired, acrylic bedecked corduroy clad bearded ( even the women) weirdo's.
If that wasn't
quite bad enough to have to do comedy in the middle of a chat about 'Ptarmigan
Duchers Caledonian Home Brew' there was a bunch of very loud, drunk Irish men.
They sat right
at the front and I watched them decimate act and compere before me.
As I took the
mic they demanded to know if I was Catholic or a Protestant! I explained I didnt
understand 'poor talk' anymore and tried to ignore. No good -they stood up and
talked loudly throughout the act. I managed to get them to sit, and verbally
ripped their throats out to the delight of the comedy audience that was intermingled
with the corudoy crowd.
The one person
who was on the door, controlling the audience and supposedly taking ticket money,
was the same person who was serving and running upstairs to the bar above. I
did manage to control the show to a degree, the Irish boys constantly interrupted
EVERY joke/story and I had to intersperse each story with a comeback and keep
them at bay as I kept the crowds attention for the punchline.
This was a
nightmare, they were in free, they were not up for comedy and were too drunk
therefore the people who did pay were pissed off and some were arguing with
the Irish crowd.
This is why
comedy clubs do NOT flourish, wee clubs that are set up by people who assume
they will run on their own, or that the publican/under paid barmaid will make
sure the night is managed well are just badly thought out. Those people who
paid to come along, will not come back, those people who may have been converted
to comedy will probably never come to a live gig again, Irish boys will wake
up and forget they ruined a show with booze and sectarianism.
Me? I am going
to make sure the smaller nights I insist on supporting are better organised
before I even bother to waste shoe leather going.
I am off to
cry about my PC, may call police to Just balantly lie and report porn and
see if they can retrieve my hard drive?
Worked for Gary Glitter! (that was a joke ok?)
24th of April 2005
a computer doesnt help. This I know to be true, shouting at the person
who was allocated to save the stuff also doesnt help. It only
creates a loud noise in your house. I stopped shouting and we-husband and daughter
Ashley decided to pack up and go to the beach. Actually to be honest, Ashley
did not want to go, she wanted to stay in her bed, but because I took the tuna
sandwich filler in the picnic box, she decided the only way to get a crusty
roll on her favourite spread was to come with us, so she dragged herself out
of bed and came with us.
I was glad to see she had wiped off her eye make up the night before. I despair of her penchant for sleeping in full make up, she seems to think its ok and I worry she will damage her skin. I do recall being 19 though and I know I thought I would never get old or worry about my skin. Ha! Youth is wasted on the young indeed.
I do feel it is absurd that the amount of cash we spend on colouring in our face and then the crazy cost of special wipes to then rub it off! But we do it, we are women in the 21st century and we are under pressure to look good. Well, I am on the lower end of my forties and am hoping I can reach 50 then give up trying to look sexy, fuck that time out!
I am joking, I dont think I look remotely sexy, I think my dress code is more Urban angry lesbian than Chic Desperate Housewife.
beach out at Balmaha is lovely, a stony setting on the side on Loch Lomond.
The sun shone so strong I got worried I would burn and covered Ashley up as
A young mother
came by with two small tiny boys who were identical twins. They were so cute
and dinky, she smiled and the wee boys waved at me.
I looked at
husband and watched his face soften and melt looking at the cute wee things
OH MY GOD! Imagine having twins, oh no, I would die at having twins! I whispered to him, still in a slight shock at the thought of having TWO small kids at that age, no matter how cute.
Husband- Twins, I would love that, I would love two more kids and twins would be amazing, it was easy having twins my mother said he grinned looking at me. I reminded myself that his brothers are twins, my niece has twins and multiple births are scattered throughout both families.
My heart thudded in my chest. TWINS? Is he mad?
Me-Are you serious? How on earth could we cope having two more kids? We have just got her up and off to Uni, what goes on your head? I was genuinely shocked.
Husband-Yes, well I could bring them up and you can carry on working
He had it all worked out, Ashley was lying in her wee beach tent that she has mastered erecting after a whole year of putting it up. She was lying listening to her IPOD in one ear and us in the other.
please tell me you arent thinking of having sex and babies She then
sat up and looked at her dad Papa, if you had twins would you love me
more than them?
I sniggered, here was un chartered territory for the man who knows everything (except how to save info on PC and manage to love more than one child).
Husband (now uncomfortable)- Erm. I would love you more as I have had you longer he smiled at his own ability to get out of that one, but she is my child as well remember and will take this as far as she can.
Ashley-Papa, you love me more than you love mum dont you?
I knew she was just making him uncomfortable, his position of only totally loved child was being threatened by all this twin talk. He looked at me and went to wink and she shouted Look at me not her and say you love me more than anyone or thing ever!
I smiled and squinted through the sunlight and watched her, all six foot of her lying their with her pale face and his brown eyes and her fat petulant lip demanding his attention.
Husband-Yes I love you more than anything and anyone
She sniggered and looked over at me, smiled and stuck out her tongue and lay back down giggling. Husband looked confused and bewildered.
Me-See that kind of manipulation would THREE FOLD if we had twins and her at home
He shook his head, smiled and went back to watching the wee mum holding the twins near the water. I hope he is not really serious about more kids, I am looking forward to getting my life my way, not being saddled back down to spoon feeding and swing park visiting.
Never the less, I like the spring arriving, I love the beach at Balmaha. Roll on summer so we can start roaming all over Scotland on our days off.
Thats what families do when they are not shouting at each other.
25th of April 2005
nightmares again last night, seems there is no pattern to how it happens. Managed
to sleep walk as well, woke up half dazed in the living room sitting on the
I decided to
go a walk today, also went into the Bistro where my mates El Presidente own.
They are a great rock group and were on Top of The Pops on Saturday morning,
seems their new single 'Rocket' is going places. They wrote 'The Point of Yes'
song for my play thats going to Soho Theatre.
I am having
my Scottish book launch there as I did sit in there daily and write the book
and play inbetween drinking Dante's coffee. Funny to watch him on stage singing,
I keep waiting for him to serve me up a latte, then sit down grab my note pad
and read what I had just written. He is very talented though, as is Guilanno
his older brother. They wrote that song for me after i gave them a brief description
of the storyline and it fitted perfectly, the lyrics were haunting and the melody
really did bring the script title to life. It was played at the beginning of
the play and end.
So here I am
back home, the sun is still bright outside and hopefully this will not be 'our
A few bright days does not a summer make!
25th of April 2005
problems and life looking back
I hate to admit
this out loud, but i have a bald patch. Self inflicted to be honest. I used
to tie small strands of hair into knots as a child, then if the knot failed
to come undone (as always) I would rip that peice of hair out and throw it away.
I am doing
I did this
under extreme stress when I was small and my mum found loads of hair under our
bed and was flummoxed by it all. I haven't done this mad habit in years but
am back to ripping it out and at the right side of my head just above my ear,
the hair is thinned right down and there is a distinct bald spot. HOLY FUCK
I need to quit.
When i did
"Kings of Comedy' TV show on C4, i was chewing my hair ends and pulling
on it a bit as having a camera on you 24 hours a day was nuts! I actually saw
the tapes of my doing the hair thing and was appalled at how mental I looked.
I do know this
is a real illness and have read up on it, there is some poor people who actually
pull out their eyelashes. I do pluck out wee hairs on my eye brows and have
plucked my arms and chin to the point where they have bled.
At least I
am saying it out loud and telling you (whoever you are) reading this.
I am going to stop.
the 27th of April 2005
pudding and tampax stories
This is weird
I know, but as I walk home each day from town, I pass this big bush just past
the wee school. I hate going near ir as it extends onto the pavement and scratches
ago as I walked past it I looked down and there on the ground just under the
bush and clearly visible was a big 'Yorkshire' pudding. One of those ones you
get frozen from supermarkets usually filled with sausages etc. It is about the
size of a small side plate, you know the kind?
Anyway I remember
looking at it and thinking...how the fuck did that get there? I mean it's not
a snack food, you would have to cook that at home and bring it out and throw
it on the ground, so I started to imagine scenario's as to how it got there.
a husband was thrown out by his wife and she chased him with his dinner and
threw it behind him?
anorexic had been to dinner at a friends house and slipped it into their bag
and dumped it before getting into their car?
is not the point I am trying to make.
walked home and under the bush, the YORKSHIRE PUDDING is still there...NOT mouldy,
not eaten by rats or birds BUT intact and still brown and crisp looking!!!
A few reasons
for this are
A) It is a
genetically modified food that never deteriorates, it is full of so many warped
genes that even rats wont eat it.
daily puts out a big yorkshire pudding for a small rat community and I just
happen to be there before it gets noshed.
C) It is a
plastic prop from some food programme and I am too stupid to tell the difference.
I have no real
idea, but if it is there tommorow I will take a photo of it ( which will make
me a scary geek).
note, I was chatting to a mate who collects Airmiles, this made me smile, because
husband was obbssesed by Airmiles a few years ago, to the extent that we had
to shop only in Sainsbury's as they gave Airmiles points with food purchases.
This is a true
story...I am not proud but here goes.....
used to do 'Special Offers' on goods to get you to buy more and save the Airmiles,
one day we went in and there was a special deal on 50 Airmiles with boxes
of Tampax. Aspergic husband worked out in minutes that if we bought loads it
would mean Sainsbury's were in effect actually paying us to have them! (dont
ask me, I know nowt about figures).
He stood there
in the supermarket aisle, looked at me and asked in a loud voice " When
do you stop having a period?"
I am pregnant I suppose"
I mean menapause thing"
dont fucking know, are you trying to work out how many periods I will have to
justify buying 8 million tampax?"
but it's ok cause luckily I have a daughter and she will have years of periods"
At this he
filled up the trolley with hundreds and I mean hundreds of Tampax boxes, Ashley
ran away from us in shame and waited in the car. I stood there bemused. He was
challenged at the check out where a silly manager realised that my husband was
making cash out of buying the Tampax.
are not allowed to buy this much sir"
call me sir, you dont know me and there is no sign to say so"
slunk off and other customers watched as he counted the boxes for the assistant.
loudly at checkout) 'Is there a sell by date on these?
women dont care how old something is, they will still stick it up their vagina
providing it does the job"
I wanted to
die as he loaded up the car way past the windows with Tampax. Ashley sat on
the floor of the car and refused to carry them upstairs.
A year later we all flew first class British Airways to Los Angeles/Las Vegas and San Diego on the Airmiles aspergers man accumulted and we have still got enough Tampax to last another year! He ain't all bad!
the 28th of April 2005
and dead flies
had a mental
day yesterday, after sending out 35 email invites to various media people and
comics to come to my book launch at Soho theatre...I was informed by Random/Ebury
that the date had changes from Monday ( the date I had sent to people) to Tuesday
7th! It wasn't Random's fault, it seems to have been changed by Soho theatre
It seems everyone knew this but me...well there's no need to tell me eh? I am after all only the author.
I sat yesterday
so stressed trying to compose a new email at my pc and chomped my way through
a big Eccles cake or in Glasgow we call it a 'Flies Graveyard' because when
you bite into it it looks like millions of wee flies stuck together.......it
is actually raisins, but now I wish I hadn't said that or fucking even wrote
it now. I feel sick!
Why do I open
my mouth and say this stuff aloud?
it's now in print!
So now I have
the invites out for both book launches, one in Glasgow and one in London. I
am scared the book will bomb totally, and that no one will want to buy it and
it has to get pulped..like in that Alan Partridge sketch.
Woke up this
morning way to early for my liking. ( I like to sleep until midday). I was up
at 10am, husband is off out to get yet another thing to maybe fix the computer.
(He is taking this computer virus thing a wee bit too far, he hates internet
hackers who send virus's- I suggested putting a condom on the internet portal
thing and he shouted at me- I thought it was funny).
On Friday I
am off to do Manchester for two nights, I like Manchester, I just hope it likes
the 28th of April 2005
how to work
After all these
years of marriage, you would think husband would know by now how to understand
some 'Trigger signs'?
doesn't. Even when I unleash the hormonal cloven hoofed hell that comes out
of my mouth on these ever frequent occasions, he continues.
likened him to one of those confused lab rats, who despite being shocked by
a small voltage every time they nibble food at the electric wire they
keep going back and doing the same thing over and over.
When he says
something really fucked up and annoying she whispers 'Thats right wee white
rat, keep prodding your nose against the wire' or 'Ok heading for the shock
again lab rat'
In last years
blog I gave out some HOW TO WORK JANEY TIPS here is some more..for my husband...
tip A) If I
looked bloated and there is a red ring around my waist that indicates my knickers
have become 'tools of the devil' and they are threatening to slice me like cheese
wire DO NOT SAY " Are you too fat for those sexy knickers I bought you
tip B) When
I burn my hair trying to straighten it and cry at my curls DO NOT SAY "
I love it when you look like a bushy woman, just leave it curly like Tina Turner,
she loves her hair curly and it makes you look like Roseanne".
tip C) NEVER
SAY AGAIN IN PUBLIC "Janey is really weird coz she can even snore whilst
lying on her side".
tip D) Never
be stupid enough to be offering a six foot three stand up comic one of my leather
belts to hold up his jeanswhen
his snapped because you think that I am the same waist size as a fifteen stone
tip E) When
you think I am really asleep, and you can tell this as I am snoring on my side,
NEVER EVER assume that if you put your freezing cold hands on my boobs, that
will tempt me to become awake and maybe turn around and kiss you.
tip F) If I
am ever pushed to buying make up in front you in a store NEVER EVER SAY TO THE
ASSISTANT-"Please dont let my wife buy this incase she ends up looking
like you do with all that purple stuff on your eyes..have you been too near
a smokey fire?...why is that eye stuff 26 pounds?"
If I want to pay fifty quid getting a back massage, you shouting you will 'rub
me' for fifty pence is not funny.
- NEVER EVER assume that I want fucking 'lavender bath salts' as a birthday
present, I will never get over that humiliation in January at my birthday. I
wanted an IPOD and despite shouting it at you for three weeks prior, you still
never got the hint. I bought it myself.
tip I) NEVER
look at old photo's of me and say' That was the years when you could really
bend your legs and you didn't have a wee moustache"
tip J) Always
make me tea when you are busy and I want it, always ignore me when I cry about
my mental hair ( but dont try to run your fingers through it, it's like a badger
trap) Always tell me you love me, even when I feel too fat to bend down to tie
my shoes. Always pretend to be interested when I tell you what happened on the
way to the shops. Always do that nice thing when you put your hand on my thigh
when you sleep, even when i am on the other side of the bed, you make contact.
Always do that.
I will try to be less annoying and shouty.
the 30th of April 2005
and no sex
I wrote 'No sex' at the top of this blog bcause I am officially very old, I slipped in the hotel's bath and hurt my leg!
am an old woman who needs bath aids, maybe a non slip grip handle or a stick
was lovely yesterday, I read the reports of rampant bank holiday sunshine....and
yes I awoke to RAIN...
I had a nice
gig last the acts went down very well, Todd Sawyer the US comic is very dry
humoured and funny, George Egg was hysterical and Gina Yashere was just brilliant,
she really did rip the roof off the gig.
I am in a shitty
Thistle Hotel and am thinking that as I travel in these really good/really shit
hotels I should actually be a hotel reviewer.
yesterday as I saw El Presidente on GMTV it was nice to my mate Dante in full
swing then I saw Heston Blumental on telly -he is my mate Monica's client and
just been voted the 'Worlds Best Restaurant' ( I do know famous people) Then
I watched Andrew Neil (Newspaper media mogul) and I recalled how he used to
drink in my bar years ago and he like me is from Shettelston which yesterday
according to Department of Health is YET AGAIN the worst place to stay in Europe!
If you live
in Shettleston ten years will come off your life! Thank fuck I moved out!
tonight again...sorry this is short but I am in Easyeverything and there is
a big fat sweaty man in acrylic beside me looking at 'Animals who like sex'
on some webpage and I no longer ever want to see a horse like that again
( my own fault for looking at his screen)
Janey (running downstairs to get cleansed in the Manchester rain)
the 30th of April 2005
It really is
a small world, as we were driving into Manchester yesterday, we got a bit lost
and contrary to popular belief, men can ask for directions! Well actually I
can ask for directions after being directed by husband to do so! We always get
a bit lost when we get into new cities, and as we slowed down in the busy traffic,
I spotted a guy to ask but noticed he had head phones on so the next person
approaching answered as I yelled "Excuse me!".
The young woman
came over to the car. She smiled and said "Hello Janey Godley!"
It was Lucy
Porter! Stand up comic from London, Lucy was in town to perform at Comedy Store.
It was nice to stop and chat, I like Lucy.
At the gig
last night we were talking about our ages and our parents. This got me thinking
more about who I am at this age.
Women my age
(44) are generally described as the 'Punk Generation'. We are old enough to
have been teenagers when the real Punk wave hit Britain in 1977. We are
women who by now have had our big 'White Wedding' and are possibly
onto our second marriage, we will have paid the bigger part of our mortgage,
our kids are now young adults and according to latest statistics we will probably
have had two lovers and one abortion.
I feel cheated
on the two lover thing and am happy to have missed the abortion but I do agree
with the other statistics.
We are not
the 44 year old women our mothers were, my own mother had grey hair, none of
her own teeth, had more wrinkles and was considered ancient at 44 back in 1979.
She was an old woman according to me at the time. I was just 18 that year and
I thought she had lived her life and was now relegated to being a granny that
made soup and would now watch as her children got married and brought home the
wee babies for her to sing to.
I didn't know
she was still sexually active, and possibly had ambitions. In 1979 I didnt
know that she only had three more years to live. Had I known that then I would
have spent more time with her.
Women my age
in this century have an upper hand. We have better skin care, more awareness
of diet, better health screening, and are more valued in the work place than
our mothers. Women in their forties are no longer considered menopausal nightmares
and are now climbing the corporate ladder, they no longer require childcare
and have no guilt about working longer hours with more committment to the
job and the 1980's under achieving jealous annyoing spouse has either been divorced
or has finally grown up.
The only problem
I can see is where we fit in in the fashion sense. You only have to look at
Patsy Kensit, Lesley Ash and Carole Vordeman to see that 'Looking good' does
mean 'Mutton Dressed as Lamb' or resort to fattening up your lips to clown status.
my age have a bit of a short fall where clothes buying comes in. All the high
street stores are geared to the 'Sienna Miller' gypsy look, I cannot wear that
hip 1970's stuff...it doesn't work and you cannot wear wrap over tea dress's
as they do make me look like my maiden Aunt and you cant do 'ironic'
My dress sense
falls somewhere between 'Hip street/angry teenage lesbian/flowery baggy woman
who keeps too many cats.
I do wish fashion
houses would design something that can understand older women have breasts
that are no longer 'above' the Empire line, that real woman do have hips and
we all dont want to look like Bet Lynch in leopard print wrapover dresses this
I am old enough
to enjoy sex without the stress now, most women my age have realised by now
what they like, how they like it and when they want it.
I know what
bits of my body dont look as good and I now know how to ignore it and enjoy
are over- we have done the whole sex with high heels and red lipstick shit
and we aint going back. We want Egyptian cotton sheets, Jo Malone body cream,
a decent music collection, some good long sex and if the man in our lives can
no longer provide it, we are self assured and wealthy enough to go get it ourselves.
I feel like
I have just delivered my first party politcal broadcast! Vote for me!
Must dash and go to get ready for the gig.