Thirty minutes in. I think I might be drunk. A tad tipsy. High as a kite. On my way to skunks who are drunks town. In the non-literal sense. Obviously. Literally, I’m 45,000 feet in the air on the way to Miami. High flying. Fly in the sky. It’s early. Half seven or something. One hour earlier I was in bed. Two hours before that I was watching the end of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Mighty movie. Sidetracked me from packing though. And also meant I stupidly only had two hours sleep. So it’s early. I’m drunk. And I’m on a private jet. Oh yeaaah.
Made this a while ago for TV meetings and the likes. Tease on, as they say. Here’s the tale of it all -> I Shot The Sheriff. Sticking it up for Paddy’s Day, how wonderful. RanDumber shall be free this weekend too so keep on eye out for that. Spread the glorious gibber. Watch on!
Harking back to my college days, oh what a lark, one thing that sticks out in my mind is texting girls on behalf of my friends. Not all the time, just some times, if they got stuck trying to woo a girl. Sometimes I still actually do it which might be a bit harsh on the unlucky girl – making her think my wit (or lack there of) is his wit and all that. I’ll get over it, I hope. Anyway, I was usually asked for help when a friend might want the girl to come out and meet him but she was leaning more towards staying in. Through my own means, I found one trick that almost always worked. The texting conversation might go as follows: Continue Reading »
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Eating all that paper. Not the best preparation for a flight back to America. Customs. Fully to the fore. What if they do what they did to Kailand?! But I’m legal, fully, I have a visa! I know, calm down, it’s just you might get a guy who’s having a bad day and he could screw you over somehow. But I have a visa, I’m all good! Well we didn’t even think what happened to Kailand could have possibly happened and you know how well that went! Oh balls. Me bowels. Durchfall. At least I was in business class. Paranoid but comfortable. Always key. Although I do need the bathroom.
Dose.
Both taken.
Wait. Spot a guy on the other side waiting too. Obligatory nod hello. Ignores me. Nice. Standing. Wishing. Thinking. Waiting. Did I ever Continue Reading »
“Want some skunk geezer?”
Pardon? “Some skunk?”
Do I want a skunk? “Yeah. Want to buy?”
Why would I buy a skunk? “You being funny?”
Am I being funny? “You is being funny, pretty boy.”
Oh Jesus.
So I get out of the tube. East London. Not sure what part. But already it looks dodge. Balls. Never considered this when booking stand-up gigs. Presumed central-ish would be grand. Anywhere close enough to Picadilly. This seemed close. And it was. Just also dodge. Hmm. Not sure which way to go either. East? Which way did I come out? I’ll head to that Starbucks, do some sussing. Oh right, just up the road a bit? Cheers boss, and an espresso to go. So I’m back strolling up the street. Convinced Starbucks guy pointed me in the right direction. Looking for a venue whose name is now eluding me. King’s Arms? King’s Cross? Queen Bishop? No clue. Oh yeah, the Goat’s Head? I think that’s it. Hang on, what does this dodgy looking hooded dude want… Pardon? Oh right, I think he’s trying to sell me some skunk. No clue what the funk that is but- He’s getting angry. Time to walk faster. Hey hup. Quicken the pace, hang 0n, giddy up, the Shepherd’s Cross, found the place, in I go, skunk, back up away to funk! Continue Reading »
Merry Christmas RanDummies and mighty blogaruu readers! Hope you are still getting your turkey sweats on. While you do, why not enjoy this piece which I wrote for an Irish paper recently. Pants off. Trifle. On!
A Hollywood Christmess Story
Is that Slash? Hmm. Is he looking at me? Hmm. Not sure. Is it him? Is he real? Am I drunk? What’s going on? Hmm. I’m going back for a kip.
Next morn. Stephen’s Day. Boxing Day? Not sure what they call it here in L.A. Eyes open. I’m on a couch at Robbie Williams’ house. Awake. Alone. Alive. Stiff back. Slept awkwardly. No sign of Slash. No sign of anyone. All left. Or upstairs. Sleeping. Sensible folk. Unlike me and my dry mouth. Tastes like glue. And so this is Christmas. Continue Reading »
Enough Talk, More Writing! 
