Results for tag "funny"

What Happened to the Fucking Net?

Towards the end of last November I resigned from my £42k a year job because I hated it. Me and my husband had decided we’d follow John Burrough’s advice – “leap and a net will appear”.

The net would take the form of us selling our house by the time I finished my job (three months, that can happen, right?) and then Jeff would give his one week’s notice and we’d travel the country living off the proceeds of the sale until I was making enough money from comedy bookings for us to eat once or twice a week. If we were careful we could manage two years before the money ran out and we both got real jobs again.

Two years to make it!

By some miracle, the net appeared! Just has Julia had promised. At the beginning of December we had an offer on the house. We were, like so many people on Facebook these days, feeling blessed.

My notice period dragged from 2017 into 2018 until eventually it was the end of February 2018 and I was packing up the house so we could ride off into the sunset waving goodbye to all the silly fuckers working jobs they hate so they can pay a mortgage on a house they’ll probably never own. Smug, smug, smug little me.

It was also the end of February 2018 when my husband Jeff was diagnosed with cancer. “Which cancer?” I hear you ask. Everyone asks that, I don’t know why. I assume people have a personal rating system for cancer where some are worse than others. I don’t think it makes a difference to the canceree; whichever it is it’s about to play shit with their lives.

It was lung cancer. [Ooh, the bad one]. This is off the chart for most people’s cancer rating systems, somewhere between I-wish-I-hadn’t-asked-now and dead.

Actually, we have discovered that Jeff is young and fit (everything’s relative, the average age for a lung cancer diagnosis is 70), so he will be cured by the end of the summer and we can carry on our merry way. That’s how we get through each day, firmly believing that he will win this fight. Why would you live any other way?

How am I? Well bless you for asking.

I’m pissed off.

We chucked in our soul sucking jobs to live outside of societal norms and experience more freedom before it was too late. Most people wait until they’re retired but not us, we could be dead before then. We were prepared to take a risk, certain that the Universe would reward us for our bravery with a life of peace and abundance. The timing is almost comical. In the words of every child ever; IT’S NOT FAIR!

Fuck you, John Burrough.

In Sickness and In Health


I rarely take a day off of work due to sickness, I can’t bear the thought of all the emails mounting up ready for my return like some kind of corporate punishment for being physically fallible. Similarly, I have never pulled out of a gig due to sickness. (Actually I’ve never pulled out of a gig at all, I’m far too needy and desperate for attention and stage time).

I’ve found, so far, that the adrenaline seems to keep me going for long enough to perform my set and sometimes a good gig can make you feel better when you’re the worse for wear.

However, my day job is quite a responsible one where I’m expected to think and that and look after million pound decisions so, if I’m not 100%, mistakes can be made.

Which leads to my problem. If I’m sick today and I have a gig tonight, you can bet your arse I’ll be dragging myself down to the basement of a backstreet pub to entertain an audience of single figure numbers. You can also bet your arse that someone will tag me on Facebook at said gig. It doesn’t matter how good my privacy is on Facebook; I live in Devon, meaning that eventually and inevitably someone at my place of work will see it [insert joke about inbreeding, they love that in Devon].

So, no matter how sick I feel, I have to also drag my arse into work and perform without the aid of adrenaline or alcohol (which is, unreasonably in my opinion, frowned upon in the office).

Good job I keep myself in tip-top shape with all the exercising and healthy eating and stuff…

Creative Block

I’ve had a creative block for about a year. If ‘creative block’ means ‘too lazy and too busy procrastinating’.

This hasn’t been a problem to date as I’ve been performing to different audiences trying to improve my set and work on my performance. However, next Friday I’m M.C. for a gig in my home town and I can’t get away with it any more.  I’m terrified.

I’ve written down ideas, I know I need to work on them to get them in some kind of structure, so why am I dicking around on Twitter and Facebook?

I can rely to a certain extent on the fact that the audience know me and want me to do well. I can also rely on my local knowledge and the fact that I know 80% of the audience personally. But that’s not enough, is it?

I’ve always been the sort of person who works better under pressure so I’m hoping this will be the case here. Won’t it? The hardest part is that it’s my fault. I should be working instead of watching Cake Boss or sitting in the pub getting updates on the state of the landlord’s ass (which has now confined him to the hospital).

My saving grace is that my daughter is now home from University. She’s not a comedian but she is an artist so understands how difficult and personal the creative process is. She’s also one of the few people in my every day life who can make me laugh. We’ll drink wine until 2 am and say motivating things at each other until we feel like we’re ready to take over the world. The next day we’ll drink coffee and talk about how crap we are at getting things done and how it would all be better if we just won the lottery. Then we’ll watch Say Yes To The Dress and wait for the commissioning editor from BBC3 to pop round.

I’ll be ready next Friday. I have to be.

Sleep is for losers.



A Funny Thing Happened Today – Day 2…..

I’m back! I’m doing day 2 of 365.

Luckily something mildly amusing happened this morning to enable me to write anything at all here. This 365 is gonna be a tough one.

The local weatherman on BBC breakfast television walked off screen during his forecast. He was halfway through when he suddenly said something like “Let’s do that again, it wasn’t flowing right”, obviously not realising it was a live broadcast.

I’ve been unable to find out his name (haven’t really made that much effort) so here’s a picture of him.

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