Halloween Special

Before we start, I must tell you now not to read this blog. I don't want to come across all Marge Simpson at the start of a Treehouse of Horror episode of the simpsons where she comes out at the start and goes "this is going to be really scary," obviously it's going to be scary, it's a halloween special, and they have to put that there for the kids, even tho as kids we loved the scary episodes even more and as grown ups we all think the simpsons isn't really a kids program anyway. BUT NO! I'm serious. I've never been more serious about anything in my life (apart from a comment I left on a website that gave Asylum of the Daleks a bad review.). The story that I will impart to you over the coming blog is very very very scary indeed. and it's all the more scary because it's all true! Yes, look, I am well aware that all halloween and ghost stories start like that but...Id say read the evidence for yourself, but you don...--

let me put it like this:

A girl called Hannah read this blog, she assumed it was some sort of joke or amusing parody of a ghost story. 3 days later she was dead. An incident with a flat burning bought about by ghostly interference.

A guy called Alex read this blog. He found the whole thing laughable. He wasn't laughing 24 hours later when he was dead.
Nobody can laugh when they're dead and I haven't made that up to scare you on halloween, science has proven it.

The scientist I asked to look over this thought it seemed highly scientificly impossible and said anybody who believed it was a complete numbnuts (his words not mine). Well he didn't look so clever when EXACTLY 24 hours later (give or take an hour) he stood on a plug....

BAREFOOT.

Arthur read this blog, he ignored it's message proclaiming "well I'll believe it when I see it." He certainly saw it when 24 hours later he was blinded.

Malcolm went to look into how his friend Jon had died and stumbled across this blog. "It can't really be cursed" thought he, but he wasn't thinking that 24 hours later when the newsagents had sold out of the paper he usually bought...

So do stop reading now, for the tale I am about to impart is not for the faint hearted and you ignore it at your cost.

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It was halloween and it is thundering outside. Dan, a boy, was at home on his own and is sat at his computer and is trying to write a blog.

it's night.

he cant think of whatt to write about, when suddenly and slowly he thinks about
those old chain-letters that you see some  times on the interweb and that used to pop up on My

Space from time to time. He always enjoyd parodying them back in the day/ Maybee Dan would look
for 1 of them to mock the grama of now, he thought.

Suddenly a chat window appeared on his screen.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Hi sexy.

This was most odd thought Dan, four he did not know anybody with that many x's in her name.

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Want to no some thing fun!

She asked and/or exclaimed. Must bee 1 of those porno pop-ups about girls looking for sex in his area now. Dan herd these contained viruses so didn't click on them, on the basis that if there in the area hed run in2 them in Tecsos sooner or later.

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: I have no eyes.
Boy: How ironic is the mad spelling of your name then?
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Huh!
Boy: Grammar joke! dw.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: wear was i?
Boy: "No eyes."
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: O i get it now. no i didn't mean that...I me....
Boy: Obvz. bad tayst jk sozzy. start again.

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Hi Sexy.
Boy: Start again.

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Hi sexy.
Boy: Start again.

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Hi Se...o i see wat ur doin. fukk yu this is imprtnt.
Boy: Sorry.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: I hav no eyes & i am dead.

Dan was begginning to doubt her nickname (SeXi) but beggening to understand her nickname for him (sexy).

Boy: Oh right, soz abt that.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: do u wnt 2 kno how i died.
Boy: ideally not.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Well...its a long story
Boy: in that case ***8**dan closed the window****

he leanned backk in his chair and returned to thinking about his blogs. wuld he rite a parody of one of thse chain letters? or not? wuld peepl still get them? he hopped they wud. those things were lyk super scary. mayb he wouldn't. just then a conversation window popped up.

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: yu cant silence me lyk that.
Boy: Aaaaaaaahhhh! (too make it clear, he said that rather than typed it) **he fell off his chair in horror** (again, he did it, not typed it).
Boy: **falls off chair in horror** he typed byway of explanasion

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx then patiently explained that you must signout of chat rather than just closing the window.
Boy: Oh fanx. ***he signed out of chat and closed the window**
Just then their was a knock at the door. Boy: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh! (see above) ***he fell of his chair***
Boy: I really need to fukking fix that bak weel.
There was the same loud knock at the door. he went down the stairs and opened the door and Saw a young girl standing there, he didn't recognize.

"YOU IGNORED ME ON THE INTERNET AND NOW IM GOING TO FUKKING

RAPE YOU YOU MOTHER FUKKER!" she exclaimed by way of introduckshion.
"What? But you mean that your..."
"yes..." she explained herself.
Lamenating the loss of innocence in childrens fancy dress costumes these days, dan handed over some sweets. "I fink all the smarties are gone," he apologised. "if yu want a tip stick to the usual 'trick or treat' opening line from now on."
"I THOUGHT THE RAPE LINE WAS PUNCHIER!"
"nO. pEOPLE WILL KNOW WHO YOU ARE BY THE TRACKSUIT, THE MEDALLION AND THE SACK OF CHILDRENS LETTERS FROM THE 70s" said Dan wisely.
Thanks Mr. said the sweet stealing girl (to clairify: she was stealing sweets, she was neither sweet nor a theif) NICE COSTUME she added.
dAN slamed the door in2 her face and she walked on to the next house. How dare she call his onesie a halloween costume? he was just chillin. she was barely even looking at him any way. idk wat the world is cumming to, fort dan.
He went back up to his room 2 mak a start on his chain-leter parody blog. AAAAAAHHHHH!!! he screamed and sat on his chair in order to fall off it.

wat he saw on the screen was truly disturbing.
.......................................
...............................................
..............................
.......................
....................

>>>>>>>>>>>>>
...................................



...........

He made a MENTAL note to change his screensaver from "My Pictures" to "windows default" and delete all evidence of that mental night out.

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

He sat in his chair and touched the mouse to re-move the screensaver. AAAAAAHHHHHH!!! *He fell off his chair*

Putting a book under the back weel of his seat 2 balance, it, he returend 2 the horrror on the screen. The conversation window was open again.

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: You can't stop me just lyk tht.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Theirs no way yu can stp me
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: I cann always talk too you.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Hullo?
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: You their?
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: .................
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: ...................
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: ......................
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Cinema Times, Taken 2, November 3rd.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Sorry, ment to type that into google. mybad.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: ..........................
Boy: Sorry, had to answer to the door. Trick & treaters.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: I know.
Boy: Howd u no?
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: I watched you.
Boy: Hu? He checks his webcam and threw a sock over it**
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: I can always see you.
Boy: Oh sheeeet! Th...wait a minute...didn't you say you had no eyes.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Well, I guess i did, but wat i mean is...
Boy: how u seein me then. im not available in fucking brail.
Boy: though im happy for you to have a quick rub if it helps you identi...no wait...eewww...
Boy: how necro is it if you're all ready having a convo with them first? Do you have photo of yourself?
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: I cnt tak a photo. I'm dead!
Boy: Right, but you can use Facebook. There's wi-fi in hell is there?
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Listen yu stoopid litto shit. I have no eyes. I'm dead. I was killed by my bf who was meant to luv me. he killed me nd hid my body under the floorbords of my house. then i killed him. now I'm contacting you from beyond the grave. Stop picking holes and be afraid. Be very afraid. 4 i gonna kill you. are you home alone tonight daniel?
Boy: Er....no.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: r u home alone if yu dont count yur cat as a person?
Boy: Er...yes. But hes' got lots of personality and hes' almost like a person.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: then y dont i come over and kill yu tonite.
Boy: Er....traffic? its very cold outside. and the telly is good.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: The TV is shit these days and yu kno it.
Boy: Fair point.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Right, I'm coming over.

Dan got up and ran away from the computer.
Boy: excuse me a minute, got to run away from the computer a second. he typed.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Sure thing.

I got up and ran around the house locking all the doors and windows until he was certain that nobody could possibly get in. A ghoulish face appeared at the window in the front door. "Just take them and fukk off!" Dan shouted as he through sweets threw the catflap before boarding it up...er...with some wood...that I keep by the cat door for just such an emergency as this.

SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Feel all safe now.
Boy: Yes thanks.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Remember aaaaaaages ago wen i aksed 'wear was i?' well.... i didnt mean it like

that. i meant wear was i wen i died!
Boy: Where?
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: my house
Boy: Well thats cleared that up, thanks. if theres nothing else, i was sort of trying to right an blog.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: then u moved in to my house. iv always been here. and u just locked urself in w/me. lmfao. u cnt.
Boy: then why are you using facebook to contact me?
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: dont know. just feels better really. you can really express urself better sometimes when your not face-2-face w/someone ya kno watt i mean?
Boy: Cool.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: anyway, point is, i died here 25 years ago and now i am back to kill u.
Boy: WTFukk did i do? Thats hardly fair.
SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx: Is it fair that i had to die?
Boy: You are quite annoying, tbh.

Dan felt the book under the wheelless foot of his chair be kicked out and fell back off my chair.
Boy: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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***************8**************
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since u read this blog, yu now hav to tell at least 10 of ur friends abt it or Dan and/or SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx will cum in the night (childish) and kill u 2.*

*to clarify, yu will be killed, not the popular smug irish band. i dnt kno if it will be SeXiLiliii<3xxxxxxcxx or myself that kills yu, im not sure of the ettiquette here. im new too this u see, ive only just died on halloween 2012 and then i had to write all this up so i dnt kno the rules. i kno ur thinkin, "but i dont live in dans house, surely that was the point there" bt....er....its complicated. stop aksing questions abt my logic. right, thats it, im coming to kill u. jst tell ur friends now and hav a happy halloween or ill kill u.

actually, hav a fukking shit scary halloween and whatever u do, dnt turn around right now.

A Rapey Blast From The Past

Gonna post a new blog tomorrow about Halloween, but while going through the hard-drive on my old pre-uni laptop I can across some proper old blogs from my myspace days. This is, as far as a I recall, the first one of these that I did. One of those chain letter things. My comments are in red. (I've made some minor changes to fix my own grammar and update some references).

One night these five girls were having a sleepover when they heard



chaos at the end of her street.



they went down to find out what was happening.



they learned that a woman was



raped and the man was on the loose.



so they quickly run home very sensible! Girls if this happens to you always leave the place you're safely inside and run home



and bolt everything down. There was no need to bolt stuff down, the rapist wont nick anything, just lock the doors, don't start bolting stuff down.



everything settles down for a while



then they started hearing weird noises



coming from outside.



they let their minds go wild well not that wild really, I mean they are told a rapist is on the loose on their street and hear a noise outside and think it's a rapist, that's not that wild. If they thought it was Mitt Romney singing the hits of T-Rex, that would be wild.



so they got scared and hid inside a closet. Good sized closet to hide 5 girls, obviously a nice house



the man was really outside so not really letting their minds go that wild and



found a window that had a broken bolt. Well why didn't they check this when they bolted everything down!?When rapists are concerned take basic safety precautions and check things and report any broken locks.



he crept in quietly.



the girls were scared crapless.



he walked into the room



and opened the closet,

"Nice sized closet" he said looking at the five of them.

the girls screamed and ran in separate directions. My God! This closet really is massive! It has separate directions! I'm assuming the girls didn't run towards the door coz that's where the man was so that would be stupid. So there are six separate exists in total! Also incidentally when you say “the girls ran home” do they all live together? In which case why the heck were they going to a sleepover somewhere else?



four of the girls went downstairs and



locked the cellar door, Good idea, leave yourselves no method of escape and leave one of your friends stranded with a rapist! Always a good move. "Sorry mate but this is a cellar, its not as big as a wardrobe that we could all fit into.” Are there really 5 other exits from the closet? That seems unlikely. That four of the six doors would lead to the same place too just seems a bit…you know what I’m saying. How many doors does one wardrobe need?

that was right above the bathroom. Right ABOVE the bathroom! So they have the room with the closet, then below that they have a cellar then they have a bathroom below that! Any more underground floors? Btw, below the bathroom is where they keep the Batmobile and below that is the Hammersmith and City line, and below that is the girls’ kitchen.



He caught the fifth girl



and took her into the bathroom, if the cellar is above the bathroom, why did he not catch the other girls on the way passed.



raped her,



and skinned her alive. Bit harsh! He left the person raped in the street alive to tell her story to the 5 girls, this is not fairness.



her friends heard her die that night Well they would



but couldnt do anything about it. Well they could have let her come into the cellar with them where they were safe or reported it to the police as soon as they discovered there was a rapist on the loose but apart from those very obvious things there’s nothing they could do about it.



they listened to her scratching the door to get out.



in the morning when he had fled,



the remaining went into the bathroom.



There engraved into the wall was her message:



"how could you have let me die" That's holding a grudge! Having been skinned alive you get some sort of cutting implement and engrave a strongly-worded letter of complaint on the wall, rather than roll around the floor in agony at not having any skin and being in the kind of pain its just unnatural to be alive after



they looked up to get the tears out of their eyes



and saw her flesh dangling from the knife that skinned her.



If you dont repost this (pass the story on) Thanks I know what repost this means



the man will skin you alive too, but if I repost it he knows I know the story, If I keep quiet he'll have no reason to skin me alive, 



because they havent caught him yet.



And the girl will make sure you will die, She's hardly in a position to make sure of anything really.



so she can pass on the tale. Again not really in a position to pass it on.



Fact: A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. Well that proves it then. All the facts add up. Well one of the facts adds up. Well is possibly a coincidence. Also the “because they haven’t caught him yet” bit: if you’re saying this happened in 1933 the “yet” bit displays a frankly unrealistic element of optimism.

He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. Sorry, where's this bit from and what relevance does it have to the above tale? I thought she was dripping from the ceiling and writing on walls and shit in the story. Was all that just irrelevant warm up? Like “haha just kidding, but seriously there was this horrific murder.”

The murderer chanted "Toma soto balca" as he buried her.

Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl.  Couldn't have used some asterixes to blank it out and save us some trouble could you?

In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. I don't care I'll be asleep

She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. Well that's unfair, I didn't do it!

If you send this on, she will not bother you. Well she's bothered me already with this frankly threatening e-mail

Your kindness will be rewarded Oh yes! It had better be

Sadly the person who wrote this was attacked by the girl and as a result went

Mad, his madness caused him to leave

Big gaps halfway through sentences like a

Tit.

Fringe Benefits - Day 4

Previously on this blog: Meeting people. Late night French comedy. The best and worst shows ever. "I'm trying to hook you into this story now before it just turns into reviews of comedy shows...shouldn't have said that. Fuck. It's got a shocking ending, I promise" and a review of a queue right after I told you I wouldn't review a queue. What am I like?

Day 4 - Big Sean, Mikey and Me - The Turret - 1:30PM

Another early in the day one-man play, another disappointingly small audience. Aside from it's good reviews, a lot of the reason I went to see this was that the man himself was handing out the leaflets and was really friendly and chatty. Over the years, a few of the shows I've taken punts on have been shows promoted by the performer themselves, because they are so much better than, for example, the uninterested woman who was handing out a pile of leaflets and thought the best way to make us go and see these acts was to, atrociously, repeat some of their gags with zero% intonation and about 15% recall of the actual jokes. The passionate, funny, star of the show is always more likely to get me to go and that's what happened this time.

Big Sean, Mikey and Me is a play that opens by explaining that it isn't a play, but is a man simply telling his true story. The show's star, Ruaraidh Murray, tells the story of his misspent youth and growing up in the "Edinburgh the tourists don't see." After some of what he said, I felt pleased that I was leaving Edinburgh that very night if I'm honest. It's a story of an out-of-work actor trying to rebuild his life. It's very working class, Scottish and involves stories of his cocaine abuse (why wont someone be kind to that poor coke, everyone abuses it). Inevitably, I'm going to have to compare it to Trainspotting. It's quite like Trainspotting. Given that the description in the program features a review by Irving Welsh, I don't think Murray would mind the comparison. And it has its own uniqueness, enhanced by the fact that it's true and that here we see the result of the man who became an actor. His relationship with his friend Mikey and immaginary friend Sean Connery are both touching and funny. He remembered us after the show, and even recalled Ben's name, from the previous day too. A gent and a good actor. What more do you want?

My Stepson Stole My Sonic Screwdriver - Billiard Room - 3:10PM

I shook off my travelling companions - who went to see a sketch show featuring one of the impro-people from Monkey Toast - in order to wallow in some geekiness and see Toby Hadocke's second Doctor Who themed stand-up show. You don't have to be a Doctor Who fan to enjoy this show, if you're not the kind of person who will be annoyed if they don't get every little reference that is. It is surprisingly accessible and what Toby is really doing is telling the story of becoming step-father to a deaf child and bonding through Doctor Who while working through some issues he has with his own absent father (who he discussed in his first Doctor Who show). It's clever stand-up and about my favourite TV show ever. It makes me both want to embrace fully my love of Doctor Who and shout about it a lot more than I already do too much, and also realise my obsession is nothing compared to the Toby Hadocke's of this world.

Putting aside the Doctor Who fan part of my brain and activating the comedy fan side for a moment (there's not much else in my head. 45% Doctor Who. 45% Comedy. 10% Wank-bank.) it taught me the importance of not letting yourself deviate too far from your routine, as at one point Toby threw a large mug full of water over his face and then, embarrassed, explained he'd forgotten a joke earlier on in which he was meant to take a big swig of drink.

Tom Thum: Beating The Habit - E4 Udderbelly - 6:45PM

This is another one that we took a punt on because we were given a leaflet by someone who made it sound interesting. Tom Thum is a beatboxer. Now normally, I wouldn't be too fussed about seeing a beatboxer. Frankly, I'm a bit over it, but the woman giving out the leaflets sold it to us as something a bit special, the reviews were good, and fuck it! It's Edinburgh, take a risk. I'm not disappointed that I did. He was very good. The reason, I think, I don't like beatboxers (anymore, I used to) is that I've seen it be done a fair few times now and, for me, it's not a novelty or rare skill any more. But the thing with Tom Thum is he doesn't just have a talent, he has an act. Not only does he seem capable of making any noise known to man or not, he's written a show around it, with film inserts, cover versions, dub, a vague story linking it all together and plenty of jokes and charm. When old farts ask "What can you actually do with that?" Tom Thum is one of the beatboxers who can answer that question well. I hope more follow his model.

Andrew Lawrence Is Coming To Get You - Pleasance One - 8:50PM

We're into the last run of shows for our festival experience 2012, and in one of the bigger fringe venues at the  Pleasance. There are benches instead of chairs delaying the start of the near sell-out show as people had to be told to shuffle along a bit to make room for everyone. Andrew Lawrence wins the award for probably the most depressing act of the fringe 2012. It's a very good show, but a show about how we should all be depressed and miserable and how life ultimately sucks. To the tune of If You're Happy And You Know It: "Life's a shithole and you know it. Kill yourself." He also talks quite a bit about depression and mental illness in comics, because that's the subject of a BBC3 documentary he's presenting soon. He was very disparaging about that as he was about everything. To be honest, he made jokes about the link between mental illness and performers but didn't really go into much depth. It would have been interesting to explore it deeper, I guess the question though is would it have been funnier and it would be hard to imagine it being funnier than Andrew's material. I guess we have to wait to for the documentary to add the depth, though as Andrew says "It's on BBC3 so it's not a real documentary, and will be vapid and empty and probably called something like 'chuckling spastics.'"

If you think he's being overly disparaging towards his own show, you should have heard the abuse he dished out to a couple of performers from the free fringe in his audience. A particular bit where he refused to let a performer evade the question of her venue capacity was awkward and hilarious. It turned out to be around 60. "Sixty? Look around at this." Good stuff. Last time I saw Andrew Lawrence he was on stage for about two and a half hours (possibly a figure boosted by a long heckle battle where he got into a hilarious fight with a naive drama teacher and someone else weighed in to get some funny abuse too) and he definitely wants to deliver value for money, so having started 10 minutes late, we left about 15 minutes late. And we had another show to get to. Luckily the route to that venue was mainly downhill.

Marcel Lucont: Gallic Symbol - Belly Button - 10:25PM

Fortunately this show was also late to start, but with another show to see right after this, we were definitely getting a work out on our last day in Edinburgh, and with no time for a meal between shows either - probably a good thing given the amounts we'd consumed earlier in the week.

I digress (again). Yes, it is the French character we'd seen the previous night, this time we were back to see his full show. In the 21 hours or so since this guy first made his mark on us, we'd learnt some more facts about him. His face appeared on another poster for the stand-up show of Alexis Dubus - if you assumed that that was another character you're in good company, so did we, but that's this guys real name. Still two shows at Edinburgh is pretty impressive, for someone we haven't heard of. Plus Marcel Lucont's Cabaret Fantastique which he did at weekends. We had other engagements forcing us to give that one a miss, but I hope to one day see it as it's blurb describes it as "containing magic and tits."

There were few jokes from his set the previous night in this show and we were treated to different stories, different poems and different songs, and a brilliant routine where he did some English jokes for the English audience - these were all based on French stereotypes of the English and were fantastique. He has won the Amused Moose Comedy Award at the fringe which gains him £5000 for the advancement of his comedy career and a DVD deal, so I hope soon you will all have heard of him, because it's no fun saying "ha, I saw him first," about a guy who hasn't been on TV, and Marcel or Alexis or whatever his name is, deserves fame, after just enough obscurity to make me still special that is.

Reginald D Hunter: Work In  Progress and Niggas - Pleasance One - 11:50PM

The last show of the fringe for us was fortunately another late starter. And way back in the first instalment of this blog, I remember promising you a shocking ending, this is it: This show was not good.

Yes, Reginald D Hunter, was a let down. I've seen his stand-up a couple of times and was very much looking forward to his 2012 show, but naturally it had sold out, so we went to one of his extra shows later at night after his regular performance and it was weird. He'd had a fair bit to drink, this was evident from the moment he strolled on stage late with a plastic cup of "water" and before starting his show asked for another vodka for when he finished that one. That's right, he had two glasses of neat vodka on the stage from the start of the show! In setting up the show he talked about how he would use the word "niggas" a lot to mean idiots, and "faggotry" a lot to mean "hassle, stupidity, undue stress." As a thing about reclaiming those words it was unusual and uninteresting, but from a master like D Hunter it should be good and lead to good things. He started with some all right observational stuff about the recent John Terry racist stuff in the news. I get the feeling this would be sharper and more insightful without the voddy, but it was just sort of all right. Then he talked about people who ask him if Paul Merton, Ian Hislop or Stephen Fry are nice and how if your lowest expectations for someone is that they're nice, that's meaningless. Anyone can be nice and polite. There were a few awkward laughs in this routine. A lot of the room seemed to enjoy it, I really struggled to laugh as he sort of trailed off into man-in-a-pub "and-another-thing" ranting mode.

So far so weird. But then things started to get dark. He talked about women. Women he'd slept with, a woman who had his lovechild, a woman who tried to blackmail him, Margaret Thatcher... everything about this whole thing was uncomfortable and, although some people seemed to be enjoying it, very unfunny. I'm not sure why it was getting any laughs at all. It was horrible to watch this great witty man being so much closer to the drunken idiot who has something "important to tell you about life, and trust me I've been there." He seemed to have forgotten to make jokes, it almost seemed as though he'd forgotten he was saying this to a room full of paying punters. He was giving his opinions and telling rambling stories that only vaguely seemed to have a point (and didn't have a point comedically). Near the end of the show, he asked for another (3rd) glass of Vodka and described the man who came on to bring it to him as one of the few friends in life he could properly trust. If you read that and are thinking we were seeing a guy spoofing the stereotypical drunk, we certainly weren't. He was persuaded by a heckler to down that vodka, and then just started hitting on members of his audience. When a comedian says "I would like to smell your pussy," it's really weird, shocking to the point of getting a laugh, when he carries on speaking you kinda really wish this show would be over soon. Fortunately it was. As we left my main thought was "what have we just seen?"

I've now filed it in the category of "Only in Edinburgh." I've seen terrible acts die on stage, I've seen good acts die on stage, and I've seen comedians being very drunk before, but that felt like something we definitely shouldn't have seen. There were lots of unexpectedly brilliant things about this festival, and all the ones I've been to, but that was unexpectedly disastrous. I wonder if the guy throwing out free T-Shirts to the crowd at the end of the show thought of it as damage control, to make us leave happy. I don't imagine he does that after many gigs.



Weird end to the week, but what a week it had been! I am definitely going back next year and it has actually inspired me to write more and try and be funny, and one day I'd like to be in Edinburgh as a performer (it's a quicker, more efficient way of losing your money than buying tickets, but only just). It's a beautiful city of American tourists and awesome architecture, but I feel little inclination to go there between September and July. A lot of the acts I've mentioned are on tour, and I recommend most of them, so go and see them. Or go and take a punt on a comedy night with no names you recognise as I intend to.

Fringe Benefits - Day 3

Previously on my Edinburgh Blog: We met Paul Merton! Then we Met Suggs! We briefly met a man who is pictured below (or maybe not. No he is, I just wanted to build some suspense). I got picked on for not taking the fact actress, Sue Johnstone had to take a month off work seriously enough. I had a lot of Buckybombs and danced till it, quite seriously, hurt.

Day 3 - My Elevator Days - Pleasance Upstairs - 12:30PM

Before 1PM is considered early at the Edinburgh Fringe Festvial. It's like a ghost town. The mornings are the times when the locals come out and do their shopping safe from flyers. The pleasance was deserted apart from the people who worked there and the twelve people who had come to see this play. It was a one man play and for a while, me and Ben sat outside worrying that the audience might be double the size of the cast. It was not the size of crowd this man deserved. Partly because of the time of day and also competing with all the comedy names that surrounded him at the pleasance. But it was a very good play and he was a very good actor. The play is a monologue about a man who became friends with an elevator (sounds weird, but it makes sense in the show. Basically he would talk to the elevator and be comforted by the sound of it, but it has much more to do with this guy who spent his entire - pretty lonely - life on the sixth floor of a tower block). It's pretty clever, it has a lot of witty lines, often revolving around the fourth-wall-breaking that he establishes in the opening line that he is talking to us, the audience. He asks us questions from time to time, none of which we're meant to answer. I wonder if he really is talking to us or just talking to himself coz he's a bit lonely and mad. I also wonder if that really matters. Or if it's worth telling you an opinion of it, since you haven't seen the play probably...I think I'm turning into him a bit now. Look out for a production of it, you'll like it. Plus at the end he brings on a cute dog as part of the punchline to a very funny, yet character defining, story.

The Early Edition - E4 Udderbelly - 2PM

Today was going to be busy day. We had a lot of shows to pack in and about 20minutes to hot-foot it from the Pleasance to the big, upside-down, purple cow in Bistro Square. The Early Edition is a live spin-off from the TV series The Late Edition. No, didn't expect you to have heard of it, it was dropped from BBC4's schedules because it had no viewers, because they never bothered to tell anyone it was on. It was hosted by one of my favourite comedians and even I didn't discover it until halfway through the last series. It was basically The Daily Show (don't tell me you don't watch that one either. 10:30 Comedy Central Extra. Er...Daily), but British.

The Early Edition is another Edinburgh show I've been back to see several times. It's hosted by Marcus Brigstocke, who charmingly signed my ticket when I saw the show a few years ago. And I still have, kept safe, the ticket signed by Rcus Stocke, and if the steward who ripped the stub off on the way in still has it, please get in touch. Originally this show was really the only comedy show you could/should go and see in the morning, but as I say, the streets aren't exactly packed in the am. The format is simple. Rcus Stoke and Andre Vincent and guests, read the daily newspapers "and the Mail as well" and tell us what's in them. Humour ensues. To be honest, the humour was kind of subdued that afternoon. I think partly because it was still relatively early for the fringe hardcore and neither of the guests were that famous. Carrie Quinlin (who writes on The Now Show) was one of them and although a popular guest on that show, I'm not a big fan of her. Kevin Day (who writes for Buzzcocks, Stand Up For The Week and Strictly) was the other guest. He was pretty funny, but not a star name, and evidently someone who is better at writing jokes than he is at performing them. All of this meant that the big upside-down cow we were in was half empty. Not a great atmosphere, but still a very funny show, mostly because of Prince Harry's involvement in the weeks news.
It ended on a bit of a dull note with Rcus opening it up to audience questions and someone asking where they got the bottled water they were drinking from and how much they paid for it. It's hard to tell if he was offering to do business with them ("I could have got that much cheaper for you") or thought that it would lead to genuine showstopping satire. It didn't really.

Juana In A Million - 10 Dome - 4:15PM

A bit of a gap between shows let me, finally, get some breakfast. The most sugary banoffee waffle I have ever had. If I, many years in the future, suffer from diabetes, I'm pretty sure doctors will trace it back to that waffle shed in Edinburgh. It was nice though. Next up was Juana In A Million at the Pleasance Dome which as far as I can make out is the University Of Edinburgh's SU the rest of the year. The 10 Dome is a claustrophobic room upstairs in the venue. It consisted of about 10 rows of seating (average, or perhaps above average for fringe venues) and a stage that was the size of a cupboard, and I'm not talking walk-in here, I'm talking the little ones you get in the side of some desks. It was another one person play, although a guy in the corner provided additional voices and music. I always like live music in a play. It's adds quite a bit of atmosphere and specialness (you can use a better word if you like) to a live performance.

Juana In A Million is based on the true stories of immigrants into the UK and follows the story of Juana, a Mexican immigrant who moves to the UK for a better life with, it's no spoiler to say, mixed results: mostly it's not good for her though. We were undecided about whether we wanted to go to this show. It was a must see according to The Stage on the one hand, on the other hand, it has that title. It turned out to be very good. These kind of plays can be rather uncomfortable to watch, I think that's the point, and this one certainly was at some points, Vicky Araico Casas is a really terrific actress which doesn't make it any more easy going. She flips from one character to another very smoothly and uses little ticks and grand movements to signal who she is. But there's also a lot of darkly funny bits in this, that prevent it from slipping too far into sob story territory. There are stories about an incredibly smelly woman who shares a bed with Juana in the home they're forced to live in, and Casas plays the chef in the restaurant where she works, who is constantly making sexual remarks and asking her to suck his dick, with a bit of dark humour, that gets less funny the more it's repeated - totally intentionally. All of this makes the really proper dark plot twists, feel much more horrible. There's a fair amount of dance drama and physical theatre in this, as a rule those are things I don't like, and it's not much different here. I think having it rammed down my throat too much doing A Level drama might be the cause, or it might be that I just prefer natural and real things. That let this down in my eyes - though it's obviously a matter of personal taste - and meant that this morning's much more natural performance of a man who was best friends with a lift remains my favourite, because it's er...more realistic, oddly.

Greg Proops - Elegance - 6:15PM

While buying tickets to this show we bumped into Kristen Schaal from Flight Of The Conchords and took our celebrity stalking trip to new levels by stalking a celebrity famous for playing a celebrity stalker. As a result of this meta-stalk, I can confirm that that is her real voice and that she is very charming and seemed genuinely impressed that we liked Madness because she thought we were too young for them. Oh yeah, we were telling everyone that we'd met Suggs, even other famous people we met. We didn't exactly phrase it "Yeah, you're good but..."

Greg Proops Watch: Sighting #2. This has to be the best looking of all the venues we visited. It was a giant big top with lots of elegant Victorian-circus feeling decor. But the downside is that it was a tent. A tent next to another tent where Glastonbury from the 70s seemed to be going on. This visibly annoyed and distracted Greg Proops throughout as the noise from their show sometimes drowned out his. It impacted on the reaction some of his best jokes should have got, because he's a really good comedian with a really good comic style, but was clearly being put off his stride a lot. It didn't make the show not funny, nothing could make Proops not funny, but it didn't exactly do him any favours. Still the crowd enjoyed it. The stage also had three sides but everyone was sat on one side, which made it less initimate than many Edinburgh shows, especially as Proops is one to wander about the stage while he speaks and that meant there were times when he was obscured by a pillar holding up the tent roof. To summarise, a very good comedian - someone who I knew from improv but had never seen doing stand-up before and was very impressed and amused by what I saw - but let down by a rather too shitty venue.

Andrew Maxwell: That's The Spirit - George Square Theatre - 9:05PM

This show was in a much better venue, and for once it was a venue that's probably a venue all year around rather than someone's bedroom, a gym or a storage cupboard. Our various meetings with celebrities led to an over-inflated ego and sense of our own fame and importance, and this, together with the poor signposting in the venue led to us attempting to accidentally walk in via the backstage door. The man we were following had to direct us the right way, "Thank you Mark Watson," we said (for it was he) and made some jokes at him, as if to prove we could have used the comedian's entrance if we'd wanted to, he laughed and Ben got the last laugh, which we agree is nice, because the comedian wasn't desperate to get the funny line in.

The show itself consisted of a lot of stories about conspiracy theories - Andrew had recently filmed a BBC documentary on the subject - and crazy redneck Americans. It was interesting and funny. A guy from the audience shouted out to confirm he was an SNP supporter but then fell silent and struggled to describe any of their policies under the polite questioning of Andrew Maxwell, it sort of played to my stereotypes of anyone supporting a party that ends in NP. To be honest, I don't remember much of this show, when you've seen a lot of Edinburgh shows you start to lose track of them and the tiredness from the night before was kicking in at this stage in the evening. You also start to notice it feel weird to laugh. A few days after I arrived back in WGC, I developed a sore throat which I put down to comedians being too hilarious. The beginning of that sore throat was felt during this gig, and that made me a bit self-concious about my stupid loud laugh and feel guilty about the pain I must put you in when you are in my presence for a long time. (HA! The last bit is ironic self-ego-inflating shite, don't worry about it).

Monkey Toast: The Improvised Chat Show - 10 Dome - 11:05PM

Determined not to let my declining health or tiredness stop me laughing, we decided to return to our claustrophobic room in the SU for some late night comedy. I wasn't sure what to expect of this show, but it's format was different and quite good. The host, David Shore, interviewed a couple of guests who were other comics performing at the fringe and then a team of six improvisers and a pianist would improvise scenes based around the guest's life stories. The start of this show didn't fill me with confidence. Everyone jumped, skipped and ran onto the stage waving. I hate that kind of thing. Boundless enthusiasm is not a particularly British style and it feels a little bit too much like they're trying to force us to be happy and shouting "We're fun!" aggressively in your face. But the show is Canadian in origin and so is probably very American influenced and that's the kind of thing they like isn't it? All too often American comedy acts zany because they mistake zany for actually humourous.

The first guest was Naz Osmanoglu. I'd seen him before as part of the sketch group Wittank and he was a gift to the improvisers, on account of being a half-Turkish prince who is 19th in line to the Turkish throne living his life in exile. This was probably not what the improvisers normally had to work from, but they came up with some brilliant stuff for him. We were sat in the front row, left hand corner, right in front of the desk where David and Naz (please, call him Mr Osmanoglu) were sat doing the interview so during the improvised scenes I was always distracted by watching how Osmanoglu (the G is silent) was reacting to them.

About half way through the show Naz left to a round of applause and was replaced by the next guest. Greg Proops Watch: Sighting #4. But "hark, what is this treachery?!" I hear you cry, "you were only on two sightings of Proops. What happened?" Let me take you far, far back in the sands of time to half an hour previously. While queuing for the show we saw Proops in the wild. The not-usually-a-venue nature of many of these places forces the comedian to walk past the queue to get backstage. Proops was in a hurry, but polite and friendly and shook our hands. I had planned not to wash them again from that moment on, but that would require me to never use the toilet again and I couldn't go back through the airport struggling to walk because my anus was full.

Proops was, as ever, an informed and opinionated guest but the best story, that stood out for us, was his recollections of a terrible venue he'd performed in earlier than night and a tantrum, not to mention a chair, he'd thrown in rage when he'd come off stage. It was great to get hear some follow up to Proops sighting #2 and the improvisation that the improsarios (I was getting bored of saying improvisers) did recreating his tantrum made him cry with laughter. Fun was had by all, especially Mr Proops, who happened to plug his podcast, that he would be recording in the Soho theatre shortly after we returned home. As a footnote to this I want to point out Proops Sighting #5, which at this point is the most recent, where he walked around the audience and introduced himself to everyone before performing his podcast and, once again, shook my hand and we told him it was the fourth time we'd seen him and reminded him of his tantrum. He gave us a shout out. Listen to the episode in question, called Gates, here: http://itunes.apple.com/gb/podcast/the-smartest-man-in-the-world/id401055309?mt=2

After Hours Comedy - Ace Dome - 00:40AM

Another room in the SU, this time with a bar in it: lovely. A late night comedy show promising four of the best acts from the fringe, all doing around 25 minutes of material. I say late night, but obviously it's more early morning. The ticket respected that fact by listing the date of the show as ""Thu 23 August 2012."" I approve of it's use of inverted commas as a way of saying "because it's simpler and we all know what it means we're going to act like it's still Thursday because you haven't been to bed yet" but pleasing the pedants as well. If only we could all pay more attention to the needs of pedents and not needlessly do childish things to whind them up.

Prior to the show, now ever ready to spot a celebrity, we see a boy without tape on his face. In the show the  compare is one of those young comedians who's been on things, but to be honest, I didn't take much of a liking to him and failed to do him the respect of remembering his name in this whole list of comedians. Sorry. Also, earlier in this multi-part blog I said how privleged I felt to be included in comedians shows or "picked on" as people say. The reason I sort of prefer picked on is because the comic has chosen to have a dialogue with you and engage in a bit of banter. It's they're show, they're in charge. Not that I'm against heckling - in fact the last time I was in this venue, I saw the single worst comedy night I have seen, as act after act got heckled off the stage. At one point a double act were going so badly that there was a queue to leave the room, when the straight man from the double act jumped off the stage and joined the back of the queue, instantly reversing the roles of his double act and becoming the funniest part of the night.

I digress (a lot you may have noticed), but my point is there was some knob in the front row who after a brief chat with the compare suddenly believed himself to be the star of the show and would shout out intermittently throughout the gig and attempted at one point to follow the compare onto the stage. He was annoying, but I guess you come to expect that at a late night comedy gig, especially in Edinburgh, everyone's a bit drunk. To his credit, the compare who I didn't like, handled the guy well.

First act on Marcel Lucont. A Frenchman. Well, in actual fact probably an Englishman playing a Frenchman doing jokes about the English. It sounds like a fairly average premise, but thrown in are some poetry, smugness and the fact that - by his own admission - this was his fourth show and he was a little bit drunk. Not surprising as he was accompanied at all times on stage by a glass of red (naturally). I took a massive liking to this character from the off. Very funny character comedy, and I do enjoy discovering new acts at Edinburgh.

Next up was Edinburgh Fringe favourite, award-winner The Boy With Tape On His Face. Being from the past, I love silent comedy, and this guy does silent comedy with audience participation very well. To say too much about his act ruins it slightly for people who might go and see it. But the general act is that he gets people on stage, gives them some props and makes them do something funny. It's all very friendly and I was genuinely a little bit shocked that somebody in the audience refused it. I don't know how - I really must learn his secret - but The Boy manages to create an atmosphere where it's actually not so bad to be called up to the stage. Maybe it's a mix of light-hearted silliness or the fact that you are the centre of attention while you're there. The only awkward bit is when he forced two random strangers to kiss on the stage, but even so, I think they both enjoyed it. Or maybe it was when he repeatedly got the heckler from earlier up only to send him away again immediately. Finally, he got the guy up to perform. He did one of his routines that he's done on TV, where he blindfolds the guy and then puts on some glasses with a basketball hoop and a ball on some string on and nods his head trying to get the ball in the hoop, all the while the blindfolded guy assumes we're laughing at him, but doesn't know why. Simple. Brilliant. Then the guy made some comment into the microphone and the boy seemed very annoyed. This prick had to have the last word, despite just being made the star of the show. In a word, wanker.


Next time: Imaginary friends, Doctor Who and that (relatively) shocking end to our trip.

Fringe Benefits - Day 2

Previously on my Edinburgh Blog: Oh fuck! I met Paul Merton! Oh fuck! I met Suggs. £1.40 for a bus! £3 for a day ticket!

Day 2 - Nutters Of the British Isles: A Complete Field Guide - Espionage - 2:15PM

We had tickets for Paul Merton lined up for the mid-afternoon and bought some Paul Foot tickets for the evening as soon as we hit town, but we were left with some time to kill before my favourite comedian and now personal acquaintance Mr Merton at 4. The thing about Edinburgh is that it's the kind of place where unless you take a few punts on people you don't know, you've done it wrong. Sure you could just go and see Michael McIntyre's ridiculously over priced work-in-progress shows (£31 for something that by it's very nature isn't finished yet? Really? At a festival where between £10 and £15 is a standard and reasonable ticket price?), and you'd be guaranteed a good time, but you'd also be wrong in your whole approach to Edinburgh and frankly people like you make me sick! (Too much?)

But it needn't cost you the world, or worse still the price of a Michael McIntyre ticket, to see something that may well turn out to be not very good. There are tonnes of free shows taking place in pubs all over the city, and thanks to a flyer and a convenient time we chose to check out the Nutters Of The British Isles. As I say you run the risk of seeing a bad show and this was, I'm afraid, one of them. At it's heart was some basic observational comedy, pointing out different groups of people and analysing what makes them weird with the help of lots of audience participation. To be fair, it seemed to go down with mixed results in the crowd, a few loved it, some liked it, about half sat in complete silence, or uncomfortably stood in complete silence because they clearly hadn't expected these crowds when they booked the venue. It cant have helped that I was stood at the back, in the dark, a long way from the stage and was therefore not really part of it. I had the bar forming a kind of proscenium arch between me and the stage, alienating and, quite literally, distancing me from the performance (all right Brecht! Jeez). Not that there was anything they could do about the size and layout of the venue.

There was a tall one who did the observational stuff and led the show, and a short one who reacted and said silly things. It's not a particularly inspiring way of doing a double act. Not that original either. They had a couple of good jokes, but to retell either of them here would ruin half of their good stuff, so I don't want to.

Paul Merton's Impro Chums - Pleasance Grand - 4PM

We arrived early and joined the queue - although we're now friends, I didn't want to impose on Mr Merton by asking for queue jump. As we arrived the audience were leaving from that most prestigious of theatrical happenings An Evening With David Hasselhoff. If the guys from the A Guide To Nutters show wanted to do some further research into the subject, I would suggest they start with the kind of crowd The Hoff attracts. Predominantly they are weirdos. What David Hasselhoff does to them for an hour, I can't fathom. I don't know what he does outside of running in slow motion. I mean, I'm hoping he didn't subject them to this kind of thing:

My apologies. I forgot to warn you that that clip contains scenes of graphic Piers Morgan's smug fucking face that some viewers might be uncomfortable with. Incidentally that clip is from the program America's Got Talent or to give it it's full title America's Got Talent So Can We Get Rid Of This Prick Now. Sadly Piers Morgan's evil was on the judging panel and acquited Hoff of any crimes against music, despite the lady-judge's reaction to Hoff grooming a much younger backing singer. That unmistakable look of: "Well this just got awkward."

Anyway, Paul Merton's Impro Chums: This is the comedy show I've seen more times than any other, because it's different every time and - on what I think is my sixth time of seeing it - I can confirm that it really is. There are lots of improvisational acts in Edinburgh, a lot of the ones I've seen are very good (generally speaking the earlier in the evening the better as they're not pandering to the suggestions of drunken audiences, but there are some great late night ones who thrive off that and do well). A lot of the improv acts have their own spin on it (improvising a musical, a story, some new games etc.). But these are the legends of improv comedy. They've been doing it since before I was born and they have got very good at it. Merton, you know from Have I Got News For You, can deliver the witty line at just the right time to steal the show, but the others too are all regulars of London's Comedy Store Players (anyone free, any Sunday ever, drop me a text and we'll go see them. Legends.). Richard Vranch is the man who used to play the piano on Whose Line Is It Anyway? but if that's all you know him for, he'll impress you so much more when he's actually playing in the games. Lee Simpson is one of the wittiest comedians you'll see improvising and it's a tragic failure of the TV industry that you probably don't know who he is. Mike McShane can make songs up on the spot, it's an incredible talent. Suki Webster is Paul Merton's wife - and during a scene where she was a stripper he continued to interrupt to protect her dignity, it was quite sweet really. It's such a ridiculously mad cliche to assume that two comedians living together would be the cause of non-stop laughter, but it's kind of impossible to imagine these two not just making jokes of everything. In fact I would like to believe that all of the Impro Chums live in a big house in the country and have a whale of a time. Occasionally popping over for tea, as he did on this day, would be Greg Proops, of Whose Line...hair, glasses, and American fame. He became the unexpected star of this fringe for us, and this was Proops sighting number 1. Keep reading for more. For now, lets just say it was a pleasure to see a man so witty, gelling so well with the Merton chums and being bloody hilarious too.

Paul Foot: Kenny Larch is Dead - Belly Dancer - 7:30PM

To clear up what I know is a confusing paragraph heading, Belly Dancer is the name of the venue, Paul Foot did not do belly dancing. Though if you've seen him live you'd certainly believe it's possible he might. If you like to think about jokes and try to make sense of them, do not see Paul Foot, your brain will hurt. If you like complete randomness (at one point, he just reels off meaningless sentence after unconnected meaningless sentence) that just is funny and you'll never be able to work out why, see this show. The stories flow randomly from one to another without need for satisfying links, although he ties them all together near the end, after a brief look at Supermarket Puns which are the only conventional jokes of the show.

As we'd had a couple of hours between shows, we'd arrived early to get ourselves centre front-row seats again. To be honest, this hardly seems necessary as the stigma of sitting in the front row is feared amongst comedy punters. Personally, I have never been particularly afraid to sit in the front row. I also have aspirations to be a performer so maybe that's not surprising, I'm quite definitely the weird one. But I think to be part of the show is an honour. If you've never done it, sit in the front row of a comedian who "picks on" (stupid term) the front row, it's actually really kind of exciting when they chat to you. Prior to this Simon Amstell had taken the piss out of my having legs at his 2008 fringe show and on Norman Lovett's DVD when someone in the audience puts their hand up to indicate that they think they're God. That's me. I'm not really clear on the DVD, just as well as my hair is stupid, but it led to a very pleasing moment when he recognised me after another gig a few months later.

Norman Lovett and the man he referred to as God (ironically)

This time, Paul Foot shouted in my face - very close to my face - that I didn't care about the seriousness of actress, Sue Johnston (The Royle Family) having to take a month off work. We both tried intensely to hold eye-contact, but I found it impossible not to laugh making him shout more. Thom was also shouted down for making Paul's notes disappear. It was very fun and a bit of a weird thrill.

Night Out In Edinburgh

I'd been to Edinburgh before, but always with the family never with friends, so a night off from the entertainment of the festival had to be arranged to sample the night life of the city and to try a Bucky bomb. It's a shot of Buckfast in a glass of Irn Bru. It's proper Scottish. We'd heard it on good authority (Sandi Toksvig at a News Quiz recording) that it fucks you up. When I googled it for more information, I discovered that a website, which rather grandiosely calls it a "cocktail," says that "Out of 25 visits. 0 people gave this a thumbs up." It didn't fuck us up though, in fact it was rather pleasant and only £2 ("cocktail" pah!). So I bought two more, always wise with a drink that doesn't fuck you up the first time. Actually, drunkenness-wise this was a relatively tame and sober night, not that you'd be able to tell from my dancing, as somebody put a room that played cheesy music next to the bar and so over-the-top jumping around and camp hand gestures had to occur. Certain friends will know what I mean when I say "Full on Dakota first year dancing." Others will have to extrapolate what I did from the information: I still have bruises. Still, I was glad not to be too drunk and to have sweated out the Bucky bombs, because Scotland had now been exposed to my best moves and I had an early (that means before 1pm in Edinburgh's drinking culture) start tomorrow to see a play.



Next time: A day of non-stop shows, some plays, some Proops and late night Frenchness.

Fringe Benefits - Day 1

Last month I went on a four day mini-holiday to Edinburgh. I avoid the word mini-break because it was far from a break, there was lots of walking, a fair amount of drinking, early mornings, late nights and lots and lots of doing of things.

To set the scene, since 2007 I have been on five holidays, four of them have been to the beautiful city of Edinburgh during August and have been wonderful. The one time I broke the trend for a June or July trip to France with seven good friends, it ended so disastrously that by the end of it only five of those people were friends and worse still, I had horrific sunburn. I knew I was crazy to mess with the holiday gods, there was never any danger of that in Edinburgh. Edinburgh is like my second, perhaps even, third home.

In a slapdash effort of last minute organising over a pizza at Ben's house - well over my pizza that Ben and Thom also ate - we planned our trip to the greatest comedy and arts festival in the world. It was brilliant and the month or so that followed was filled with pure excitement. What could possibly go wrong? (In fact, nothing, and nothing did go wrong, I'm trying to hook you into this story now before it just turns into reviews of comedy shows...shouldn't have said that. Fuck. It's got a shocking ending, I promise.)

Nothing, in fact, went wrong, but that's not how it seemed at 4am on Tuesday when I had to wake up for our journey to the airport. Our flights were early and cheap and, remarkably painless. For precisely this reason I'm in two minds about this Scottish independence thing, on the one hand, I love how easy and relatively comfortable all the airport shenanigans involved with an internal flight are, but I also wish there was one of those pretty stamps in my passport to commemorate this trip, rather than simply a print out with my name, flight time, a bar code and a list of hand-luggage restrictions. Conversely, I also believe on a metaphorical third hand that you should stop being silly Scottish nationalists. God if the SNP are successful, it'll make my holidaying as stressful as everyone else's, plus they wont pay any child support to us to help bring up Wales.

So we arrived in Scotland and took a bus to the city centre for £1.40....I repeat a £1.40 bus ride...a figure as low as that has not been paid on the privatised buses of Welwyn Garden City since 1924, when Barry caught a bus to visit his next door neighbours. We arrive in the city centre and take a little walk up the Royal Mile.

Day 1 - The Royal Mile. 12noon

The best way to describe the Royal Mile during the Edinburgh festival is: recycling waiting to happen. When you first step onto the royal mile, look up. Then look back down again, your hand is now full of flyers. As you proceed down the mile, past street theatre and makeshift stages, you will be handed more and more flyers. To count them is like counting grains of sand or stars in the night sky: pointless, hard work and probably really really amazing to Professor Brian Cox (Please note: but not to actor Brian Cox who couldn't give a fuck). The Royal Mile is a great street that branches off into roads that connect to all the bigger Edinburgh venues, but my god it's worth avoiding if you're in a hurry to get to one of those. Amongst the throng of people, as a flyer for a comedy show is handed to me by a man in his underpants (I make a note to file it somewhere safe and see that show as underpants are clearly funny, but alas a sharp wind and my wrist action sends it floating into a bin in a screwed up heap), I hear a sound. A sound that would haunt me for the remainder of my stay in Edinburgh. If it was an image I would still see it everytime I closed my eyes, but you cant close your ears so the metaphor is useless! I heard it a bit when my ears popped on the plane though. I speak of the horror of acapella. It's everywhere in Edinburgh. Someone, once decided that music would be better without music, they were wrong and everyone to have performed it since then has been wrong too. Just as people who juggle or pretend to be statues are wrong to call it street-theatre. I cant deny there is a lot of street involved, but it is hardly on a par with Hamlet or even Mama Mia. "My bikes only got one wheel," yeah, it was fucking clever the first time I saw that, but word of advice...it's been done.

Sean Hughes: Life Becomes Noise - Pleasance Forth - 5:30PM

Ah, Sean Hughes, proof of the old saying "Never let yourself be replaced by Bill Bailey. You will only be forgotten." The underrated (my opinion, but coincidentally factually correct) former Buzzcocks team captain and Coronation Street star whose dad has recently died.

More on that later. But first news of the queue. Don't worry, my obsession with Edinburgh does not yet stretch to reviewing the queues (for anyone interested, comfortably short, plenty of breathing space in front and behind and a pleasing amount of sunshine (4/5)). It was while queuing for this particular show that another show was ending around the corner in the Pleasance Grand. The Pleasance is my favourite Edinburgh venue. A collection of rooms that are part of the university the rest of the year. Some rooms clearly designed to be theatre space, others are bars or gyms or small rooms of no significance 11 months of the year, but all are venues for top entertainment during August. It's also got a beautiful courtyard where everyone mills around between shows at open air bars and eateries (by which I mean sheds selling burgers). If you're a celebrity spotter, this is the place to be. And coming out of his show at that exact moment while we waited for Sean's show was my comedy hero,  Paul Merton. We'd warmed up earlier on the Royal Mile by meeting Simon Amstell, but my social awkwardness and his made conversation brief at best. A polite "I quite like you on the telly" was all I could muster. Mutual social awkwardness tends not to lead to "Oh wow! How cool! Me too!" type of conversation. But this was Merton. Comedy royalty. The man I aspired to be like. I would have to get a photo, tell him I was coming to his show and embarrassingly attempt a joke in his vicinity. I don't recall the joke or his response, but it was probably a polite "nice try" sort of laugh and we achieved photography, courtesy of Andre Vincent who pushed the button after which point I worked in a mention of The Early Edition just to prove I knew he had a show and wasn't a randomer we'd accosted to get a photo with a much more famous comedian.

Sean's show itself dealt with the death of his father and had something more of a one-man-play style than it did of the stand-up comedy style. Which is not to suggest for a moment that it wasn't funny. It was very funny. Darkly comic throughout but with some great puns too ("My dad's dying of the big C...He's drowning.") with a set and acting performances and puppets, but he drew the audience in with some audience participation too.


Rhys Darby: This Way To Spaceship - Pleasance Grand - 8PM

A surreal stand-up performance. Rhys Darby wakes up on a spaceship and recalls the events of his life to work out how he could have ended up there. A lot of it is observational comedy about dancing in clubs, Dyson hand-dryers and a childhood rebellion on a golf course, but Rhys has a seriously good surreal style and a great turn of phrase (helped by the New Zealand accent) that elevates it to being something brilliant. One of the best stand-up shows I saw at this years fringe. Clever surreal. Better, and slightly more grounded than the Mighty Boosh/Noel Feilding style of surrealness (surrealality?) where nothing makes sense at all. Plus the space ship is voiced by Jermaine which is pleasing.

This one may seem a bit short, but in fact it was one of the best stand-up shows of the 2012 fringe, it's just nothing much happened around it. We found a pub that sold Iduns cider (remember that name, hopefully that stuff is going to be massive) and a delicious steak sandwich, see I knew you wouldn't care.

The Horne Section - Pleasance Grand - 11:15PM

Earlier in the day, we were given a book of flyers for shows at the Bongo Club that included Simon Amstell's. We decided therefore to see Simon Amstell. Sadly he was sold out. Miserable, dejected, we could have left Edinburgh at that moment having failed, or gone to see some acapella. But instead we soldiered on towards the Pleasance - ok it wasn't that hard, it was right next door, but there was a hill! The Pleasance is home to many great acts and so in "the great ticket splurge of 2012" we spent close to £200 (not each) on tickets, and while Ben was entering his card details, I spotted a sign on the wall that announced Simon Amstell would be the special guest joining The Horne Section on stage that night at 11:15pm. Given the title of this section you can probably already guess that we spent some more money and went to see The Horne Section, who were becoming slightly legendary around the festival as a fun way to end the night and had lots of five star reviews.

Firstly, I should mention The Horne Section themselves. They're a band led by Alex Horne who, according to them, are the first to bring music and comedy together. A lot of their songs and routines remain stuck in my head to this day. Especially "This is not the show. This is just the intro" during which they attempted to assess who in the audience was in their demographic and we weren't. Their demographic is only men over thirty with beards. A lot of their routines were very simple musical gimmicks, but they were all very fun and clever at the same time. It was a very nuanced performance (apologies for sounding all wanky like a real critic) with loads of little touches, tiny gestures, quietly brilliant looks and lines that made them stand-out above the rest. As did the fact that they're brilliant musicians - the band clearly excel in their own right outside of this comedy, largely improvised silliness.

Then there were the guests. First up: Lloyd Langford. He's one of those Welsh. He hangs around a lot with Rhod Gilbert on various projects (not the suggest for one moment that all Welsh comedians live in a big house together, but they probably do.) and did a couple of stories from his stand-up show while the band improvised some musical accompanyment. It was clearly a lot of fun for both sides and he interacted a lot with the band, made suggestions, mocked and encouraged them. His stand-up was good too, though having seen a couple of stories from it here, I didn't go and see his actual show. It probably just wouldn't be the same acapella.

The next guests were a very weird pair. I have no recollection of what they were called, as they were slightly drowned out in my mind by the weight and excitement of the other guests, but essentially they were a musical duo that were dressed and made-up as though they had barely survived an apocalypse who played music on a table. That is they slapped a table repeatedly to make a rhythm and music. It may have been some sort of a special magic table, I don't know, but it was very good whatever voodoo they used to create that sound. They slapped each other as well for added amusement and did some Irish dancing.

Then it was the turn of Simon Amstell, originally our main reason for being here and still a very exciting one, but now The Horne Section had proven itself brilliant in it's own right. The only way this could get better is if Simon Amstell did a hilarious medly of I Can Be Your Hero Baby, The Circle Of Life and Kiss From A Rose so it's quite lucky that's what he did, as it was brilliant.

So that's all good then. All the advertised guests have been on and been good and now all that remains is for the Horne Section to do some material about the Olympics and we can all go home to bed - I'm not going to lie, I've been up since four in the morning and it's coming up to one in the morning tomorrow now, I've laughed a lot, I've eaten a lot (when your day is that long, standard mealtimes no longer make sense. When breakfast is at 5am, things get complicated), I've walked about a bit and I've met some famous people. I'm ready for my bed...well someone else's sofa where I will be kipping. "Did everyone enjoy the closing ceremony?" Alex Horne asks. We cheer. "And what was the best bit of the closing ceremony?" he asks. We shout some suggestions "That is was over," being a particular heckle I didn't think I would disagree with prior to the Olympics. "That Paul McCartney didn't sing," heckled another man, this time that I agreed with. "Madness," thought I.
"That's right, Madness," said Alex Horne, either through psychic power or pre-arranged script. In light of the picture that appeared on the projector at that moment probably the latter. The picture was of Madness with a circle drawn around one member of the famous ska band so that we'd spot that he was also part of a certain comedy band. A round of applause ensued. I was in the presence of one of The Madness. I was happy with that. But then, the curtains started twitching and whose this walking out?! It's only fucking Suggs!!! From Madness!!! I cannot stress how awake I was at this point! I joined in with "It Must Be Love" as though it were the national anthem and I were a member of the EDL, probably massively annoying the people around me who wanted to enjoy the music, but guess how much I cared.

All the men with beards got up on the stage and were led out of the room by the wonderful beard of Alex Horne and we virtually skipped - skanked more like - into the bar where we met Paul Merton. It was late now and the bar was empty, aside from the back of a man stood at the bar. A back I had a feeling I recognised. We instantly ran over to the back and told it how awesome we think Madness are, and that we'd just seen him in the Horne Section and it made our night and that we've downloaded Death Of A Rudeboy already and that we'd love to have a photo and that wow! And then we touched Suggs. Actually shook hands with the lead singer of my favourite band ever! No longer so sleepy, adrenaline or something (I'm no biologist, what is it you get when you're excited?), excitaline or something, forced us to go on a little walk and sing Madness songs, before getting a taxi to the wrong place and wandering the cold Scottish streets some more in search of our beds.

Next time: We see a terrible show, more encounters with a comedy legend and some dancing.

But What Of The Legacy?

So, the Olympics is over (well for a little bit, but sad though it is, the Paralympics wont be as popular) and it was really rather good. I came the closest I have ever come to having an actual fitness regime: I watched some sport live on the telly and I got a little bit into some of it. Anyway, I realise my last blog on the subject was somewhat angry and I feel like I should end on something more optimistic. They ended on The Who so I couldn't end on "Jan Moir is a fucking troll," however true it is, it's not in the spirit of things. Even when you take into account how much the BBC killed the mood by following the closing ceremony with this trailer:

"Say, did you enjoy that festival of sport, optimism, national pride and joy? Well, that's over now, but if you enjoyed that maybe you'll like this...? MURDER!!!"

So, going forward and looking at the positive and concentrating on the legacy, here's my blog about life after the Olympics. A lot of plans have been discussed about the future of the Olympic park. The stadium can be sold to a football team, despite the running track that put teams off (my solution would be to have football and running on at different times, but what do I know?), the top of the stadium can come off, the aquatics centre will be opened up to the public, a lot of the buildings can be taken down and shipped to Brazil for their remake of the Olympics and the athletes will be sold off to chat shows (Gold medalists to Jonathan Ross, Silver to Graham Norton, Bronze to Alan Carr's Chatty Man, non-medalists to The One Show). All good, but there's one area they've missed. The BBC set-up 24 new Olympics channels. My usual pessimistic, angry blog writing style would worry they will show 24 different repeats of Murder, She Wrote to choose from. But in my post-Olympics optimistic position, I have great ideas for the BBC's new sports channels. As I felt a bit left out by all you sports fans, here are some games I would put on those channels now the Olympics is over. What do you think? What would you put on instead?

BBC Olympics 1: Hide and Seek

An overlooked classic of British sport.
The rules: one person is elected to be the seeker (using the Olympic standard Ip-Dip-Doo deciding method) the others hide (and immediately feel the urge to pee when they get into their spot). The seeker counts to 100 (using the Olympic standard 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi counting method) and then goes in search of the others. Once found, hiders can choose whether to help the "seeker" find the others or follow them around being annoying the rest of the game. The first hider to be found becomes the seeker next time around.
How it works in the Olympics: The Olympics is sport on a bigger, grander scale than anything else. Players can hide anywhere in London. Gold is awarded to the person who stays in place the longest. Bonus points are scored for any successful "desperate dashes" to a new hiding place.

BBC Olympics 2: International Kiss Chase

Based on the misguided belief of children and gays, that being kissed by a girl is the worst thing that can happen, this sport is a keep-fit celibacy classic on the primary school playgrounds of Great Britain.

The Rules: Athletes of each gender chase each other attempting to embarrassingly kiss them in front of their friends and teachers while not being kissed themselves. 

How It Works In The Olympics: Well, everything I've read suggests that the Olympic village is a great orgy of the fittest people in the world anyway, so why not capitalise on that and make it into a sport? The only draw backs are that after primary school being chased by a girl is less of a threat to a man and being chased by a man is more of a threat to a lady. Also cooties.

BBC Olympics 3: MarioKart

There's a notable lack of motor sports in the Olympics, but Italy's finest have invented a unique, explosive and slippery twist on the sport of motor-racing.

The Rules: There are 8 cups, consisting of 32 courses with varying degrees of difficulty, gravity and physics in general. It's a more interesting sport than F1 because of it's inclusion of variations in terrain. Tracks are built on ice, in jungles, on beaches, in factories, in castles, in a shopping centre, in space and on some haunted planks of wood to name but a few. Drivers can also pick up boxes containing bombs, turtle shells (someone check this with the animal rights people) that can be thrown at opponents, banana skins that people slip on, speed boosts and fake boxes to blow up your competitors.

How It Works In The Olympics: Over two weeks, we were constantly being told how magical the Olympics is, well only this sport will prove it. Prior to the 90s, there were strict rules that Olympic participants had to be amateurs, that was part of the Olympic spirit! And the principle players in this sport all hold down other jobs, plumbing mainly, but also a princess and a toad take part.

BBC Olympics 4: The Intros Round

The closing ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics was a triumph, celebrating all that's best about British music from the last 50 years...and Elbow too, but it seemed a bit odd as there wasn't much music involved in the sporting contest itself. This is my solution.

The Rules: Each country selects a team made up of a c-list musician who wont be famous in three years time, and a c-list presenter who hasn't been famous for three years (Team GB is: Dianna Vickers and Les Dennis). The barely famous singer performs only the introduction of the song and their presenter team mate has to guess the title of the song from the performance. In the event that the competing nation doesn't get it, the question is passed over to Phil's team.

How It Works In The Olympics: Countries perform songs famous in their own country to even the playing field, however Bill Bailey is allowed to distract the presenter by being weird while performing, while Mark Lamar or Simon Amstell will distract the singer by being facetious or highly rude to and/or about them. Each time a team gets the answer wrong and it is passed over to Phil, that team is out of the contest and the last remaining team takes gold. If, at the end of the Olympic fortnight there is a tie:

BBC Olympics 5: Paintball

By the way, that image may look sexy, but she is gonna be covered in tiny round bruises the next day...avoid commitment and be gone by the morning is all I'm saying.

The Rules: Shoot paint at everyone else. Avoid being hit yourself. Take it too seriously. Assume the safety briefing is 90% exaggerated and made up and nobody has actually died from getting paint on the visor, but go along with it because they call themselves "marshals" or "sheriffs" so probably know what they're talking about.

How It Works In The Olympics: England is known for it's idyllic little villages. How hard can it be to evacuate one of those? 2 weeks. 1 village. 4 people to a national team. Some guns. Only supplies found in the village to survive. All out war! Last clean man takes gold. First competitor hit has to do the inevitable cleaning.

BBC Olympics 6: Countdown

Countdown is a traditional British game dating all the way back to the dark ages of the 1980s, as the above picture proves. It's like a triathlon that tests competitors skills with letters, numbers and sitting through Gyles Brandweth's anecdotes.

The Rules: Each nation picks 9 letters, then has 30 seconds to make them into a word. Points are awarded for how long the word is. Bonus points are given for rude words. While extra bonus points are given if you manage to make a rude word come out naturally just by choosing the letters (see below), then some maths.

How It Works In The Olympics: It is hoped that the Olympics will encourage children and young people to participate more in sport and Countdown is tailor made for this. We've all walked past the living room and gone "Countdown sucks.....but wait I have a 6 letter word and if I put the E and R on the end..." and then you're hooked. It's harder to escape than a crack addiction but lasts only 45mins. (Caution, be warned against illegal street Countdown tournaments, these can be dangerous)

BBC Olympics 7: Conveyor Belt

Otherwise known as the last round of The Generation Game.

The Rules: Participants are shown a selection of objects and then have 30 seconds to remember all of them. They win whatever they remember. If they get more than 20 objects, they win a holiday. Teams are required to cheer for the cuddly toy.

How It Works In The Olympics: One of the items on each conveyor belt is a gold medal, in order to win gold, all they have to do is remember it. If Brucie is unavailable, Jim Davidson has some cracking jokes about the foreign teams.

BBC Olympics 8: Musical Chairs

A game traditionally played at children's parties. The above picture is taken from the longest ever game of Musical Chairs, it too started at a children's party.

The Rules: A song (traditionally, an annoying cheesy song, ideally S Club or similar) is played. The participants walk about a bit, then the music is stopped and everyone has to sit down. Each round one seat is removed. The winner is whoever gets the last seat.

How It Works In The Olympics: Scandal struck the opening events of the London 2012 Olympics as newspapers reported on vast numbers of empty seats in the stadium. This would solve that problem by slowly removing those seats at the start of the event.

BBC Olympics 9: Just A Minute

It's on Radio 4, what could be more British. (Oh shut up BBC3. "The Proms are still on you know!" Yeah, do they have the Spice Girls or Mr Bean? No? Well piss off.)

The Rules: Each player has to speak for 60 seconds on a given subject without hesitation, repetition or deviation.

How It Would Work In The Olympics: As with all word games I would suggest for the Olympics, it is made more interesting by having 108 languages spoken at the Olympics. Gold medals go to anyone who can score more points than Paul Merton.

BBC Olympics 10: Pointless

Basically Family Fortunes in reverse, this has become a guilty pleasure of mine that shits all over it's predecessor The Weakest Link by being, if anything too, nice and shits all over Eggheads by not featuring CJ.

The Rules: "Remember this is Pointless so we're looking for the answer the least of our 100 people said." If you do not remember this, fear not, Alexander Armstrong will remind you before, during and after every question.

How It Would Work In The Olympics: In the first competition a bronze medal is up for grabs, but if nobody wins at the end of the episode it rolls over to be a bronze medal and £25. It takes a long time to get a gold. Richard will learn statistics for all the players from all over the world, which will make him very excited. Any country tipped by Richard to win is banned from winning a Gold medal. They may win nothing more than a bronze and must not get to the head-to-head round.

BBC Olympics 11: Knock Down Ginger

Another popular sport among British children that dates all the way back to the past. Known by many other names including ding-dong-dash and knock-a-door-run which may be a more straightforward title, but it's not what it was called by us growing up in Hertfordshire so therefore it's wrong.

The Rules: The rules of Knock Down Ginger (which we will not call Knock-A-Door-Run) are to knock on a door and run.

How It Works In The Olympics: There's an Olympic village right? A whole lot of doors and it's hella difficult to run away from the people who live there. 1 point is scored for every door you successfully run away from (NB. participants must be close enough to see the door open when it does), 2 points are added for the second time someone opens the same door (so 3 points in total), 3 points are scored (6 in total) for the third time and so on...a bonus point is scored for interrupting someone's dinner.

It boils down to a game of laughing at people for opening a door that someone has just knocked on, the fools.

BBC Olympics 12: British Bull Dog

As the name British Bulldog implies, this is the national sport of Great Britain.

The Rules: At each end of the pitch is a safe zone. Participants stand in the safe zone except for one (chosen by the Ip-dip-do, the cat has got the flu method) who stands in the middle. The participants then run across the pitch to the other safe zone while the person in the middle tries to wrestle them to the ground and generally beat the shit out of them. They are now on the "bulldog"'s team and must try and bring others to the ground.

How It Works In The Olympics: It works anywhere. It's basically just a fight but with rules, like boxing or Jeremy Kyle.

BBC Olympics 13: Catchphrase

"Name an Olympic sport..." "Catchphrase!" "Ah, it's good but it's not right."

The Rules: Say what you see, see what you say.

How It Would Work In The Olympics: It probably wouldn't, every country has their own little sayings, it would be near impossible, but I wanted an excuse to watch this clip again. Who wouldn't?

BBC Olympics 14: Pokemon

Everything so far has been preamble to the greatest, game ever invented in any field with the most rock and roll theme tune there has ever been.

The Rules: Competitors, at the age of 10, travel the length and breadth of the country, through woods and caves and cycle tracks, to towns and cities training and capturing small animals en route. In 8 cities they must battle gym leaders and when their team is strong enough they take on the Pokemon league.

How It Works In The Olympics: The Pokemon league even has it's own flame which is carried in relays around the country, in one episode of the TV series President Goodshow (who ironically never wanted to go into showbiz) allows Ash Ketchum to carry the torch which is lit from the fire of legendary Pokemon, Moltres. Like the Olympic Torch this lights a cauldron at the Pokemon Stadium. Sadly even the animators of the several hundred new Poke-creatures couldn't come up with a cauldron cooler than Danny Boyle's but that animation team also designed Officer Jenny who accompanies the relay on her bike so you'll hear no complaints from me.

There are three tiers of Pokemon gaming at the Olympics. Red/Blue (for the purists). Yellow (for those who love a bit of cuteness). Gold/Silver (because of their Olympic colour scheme). Points are awarded for completing the Pokemon league without needing to visit the Pokemon Centre to heal your Pokemon. I don't want to diss Nurse Joy, but I don't like her. The whole "We have healed your Pokemon back to perfect health. We hope to see you again." is polite but frankly a terrible message for a nurse. Bonus points are gained for Pokemon Choice, anyone not choosing the fire Pokemon to start will be thought of as a fool (except competitors in the Women's Gold/Silver contest where Chikorita is acceptable, because it is so damn cute). Zubat tolerance will also be rewarded with bonus points, anyone making it through a cave without swearing or throwing the Gameboy gets a point. Having a balanced team of Pokemon types and not just the first 6 you caught is rare enough to get a point, and having them all equally well trained instead of "Charizard Level 80. Caterpie Level 3. Weedle Level 5. Pidgey Level 12 etc" is also encouraged. Capturing Mewtwo is rewarded handsomely. But only completing the Pokemon league is medal worthy. People playing Pokemon yellow...actually don't worry, you'll still be trying to beat Brock with an electric-type Pokemon long after the closing ceremony. 

By the way, if you're wondering why I didn't include any Pokemon games after Gold/Silver it's because, I was fine with there being more than 150 types of Pokemon - the very name Mewtwo suggests there's a mew out there waiting to be discovered - and Pokemon 151-250 introduced some great new Pokemon. But after that they lost it a bit. They ran out of ideas and just started drawing beards onto their previous designs. Anyway, I'm getting a bit distracted, here is some Pokemon related humour and then let's move on to my last sport.

BBC Olympics 15: The Final Game

As the closing ceremony draws near, each Gold medal won by a team gets their nation 5 seconds in the Crystal Dome. Where they attempt to catch as many little gold pieces of paper as they can. If they have over 100, they get to rule their country for the rest of the next four years.

So those are my suggestions for the BBCs Olympic channels, post-games, there are 9 channels left unaccounted for. What do you think should be on them?

(Please note: I did consider "Sleeping Lions" but not only is not much of a spectator sport, it was found that the North Korean team were cheating...well sort of. It was more their government's doing than theirs)