Crazy Train Men and my daughter…

Ashley is finding the early mornings rather mental and very trying.
She has to get up extremely early and catch a train that takes about an hour to get to Uni; she loves the course but hates the journeys.
She is not very good at early mornings and has twice fallen asleep on the train!
Today on the way home she was carrying a huge metallic case containing camera equipment and one of the daft ass train assistants on spotting her carrying the huge silver box and her backpack said to her “Are you a terrorist?” He thought this would be funny.
Ashley quickly answered back “Is that because of my big case or is it because I am black?”

He stood there stunned and moved quickly down the carriage.
Ashley is white, he is a prick, but it shut him up and made all the other passengers giggle.

I love her humour.

I have found a way to stop losing my mail or address books in my outlook programme when my computer crashes for future, I have opened a Gmail account and can now keep everything in cyberspace. That saves husband and I from fighting when the PC gets fucked up.

We went out last night for dinner in very posh restaurant here in Glasgow, it was nice to see him dressed up in a suit and tie, and I forgot how cute he can look when he tries. I even put lipstick on and Ashley took some pictures.

I cannot believe this is the spotty sixteen year old I got engaged to and I am sure I look nothing like the tomboy in corduroy dungarees that he once gave a diamond ring to behind the pub in my home town. We really do look old, and that bothers me slightly but he still makes me laugh at times.

The only thing I have in common with that tomboy is that we both have tuggy mad hair that will never really be tamed.

Anyway the dinner was nice, the restaurant was pretty empty except for this group of women who seemed to be American/Australian mix. One of the American women talked really loudly about how she is single but is in a lottery system through a Chinese Adoption agency (can you fucking believe they have a lottery for babies?). Husband and I stopped chewing and just stared at each other as she explained that the adoption agency supplies to single ‘Moms’ and that she has been on the list for two years now.
When one of the Australian women asked her how she would look after a baby whilst being single and working, the American woman simply looked at her and said “Oh I would use daycare”.

I sat there bemused, but then on the whole I suppose daycare in America would be preferable to being in a Chinese Orphanage.

Fuck…the things you overhear!

25 years of Wedding bliss…

Ok that sound ominous, and yes it is. We had decided to both go to the Lake District for a few days and due to a few family problems (me) we didn’t go. So I am spending –sorry we are spending our anniversary here at home.

It was a tense week, to start with husband mistakenly deleted some of my important emails whilst he was trying to move emails into our laptop. I screamed and threatened to kill him by slowly poking a needle into the eye of his cock and he got upset at that.
So we have done nothing but argue, not a good start to our ‘celebratory week’.

I woke up this morning and as I cleaned the house in a bad mood due to the fact I got NO cards or even a phone call to congratulate us on our silver wedding, I ended up crying as I slammed the hoover into the skirting boards. I need to reassert my issues!

The post man arrived and there on the floor was a lovely card from my pal Anne Cherry in Newcastle (she was my oldest school friend and it’s her half of face that is on the cover of my autobiography!).
So I cheered up.

The other thing that made me laugh was someone (a nutter) had left a message on my guest book waiting to be authorised (no one can leave a message, I have to OK it). Anyway someone had left a message saying that they were in fact my dead cousin Sammy and wrote a message from my ‘dead cousin Sammy’ saying that he loves heroin, now maybe that would upset some people but fuck how it made me laugh.

Firstly it was spelt very badly- Sammy despite being dead would never use incorrect grammar! I laughed so much at this attempt to be malicious that I giggled the rest of the day.

So I had a fun day, I shouted, cried and even got a very dyslexic message from my dead cousin…which was more than I got from close friends and family on my anniversary!

Sorry I am late!

I had too late a night last night; I was performing my duties as host on the comedy pub crawl for the Merchant City Festival. It was too late for me to blog and this morning I had to get up 8am for a live radio show on Beat 106. Trust me, me in the morning is not a funny sight, I was like Myra Hindley the child killer on crack. I did manage to be funny, but fuck was I tired.

The show went live from a big glass fronted swanky upmarket designer store and as I was standing in the front window going live, I saw my daughter Ashley rush past on her way to the train station to get to Uni, I waved- she gave me the finger. She is not a happy girl early in the morning and I pissed myself laughing as the radio presenters mentioned live that my daughter was rushing past but the halted when she flipped me a finger and I giggled.

Tonight was the best, I performed my one woman show at Bar Bluu as part of the festival and I did the whole two hour set that covers last years Fringe show Good Godley and this years show, anyway I tell the audience all about my life and how I was caught in my father in laws house with guns and explosives, then I admit to a crime that involves me getting one over the police. I don’t want to write it here as I don’t want any legal comeback, anyway to cut a long story short guess who was in the audience and introduced herself?

It was the policewoman who stormed my father in laws house with her crack squad and charged me with possessing firearms all those years ago in 1994!

I was amazed and could not stop laughing when she told me who she was. My daughter just stared at her, I laughed out loud and said “Nice to meet you again, that thing I admitted to on stage in the first half, I made it all up, by the way are you still with the police?”

“Yes I am, but don’t worry, I never heard you say anything criminal, I am a big fan of yours and loved the book” She told me. So therefore I like her!

So what an eventful night, the gig sold well and the crowd loved the night. I am so happy it all went very well and can’t wait to bring the show to London in December.

I did inform the crowd about my website and my idea about six degrees of separation, when I told them I am three degrees of separation away from Hitler and that makes them four degrees away, they all took it very well and laughed. So I am still excited about my idea and would like to thank everyone who is inviting me to their lovely city, I intend to try and get there and will keep you all informed!
Good night X.

Six Degree’s of Janey Godley

I am getting loads of very cool invites to all places on the globe and need more! I am thinking it may be good TV idea and have approached the BBC today with the pitch and they are looking at it.

It would involve me going around the world meeting each blogger in each city, meeting their local BIG celebrity and doing a comedy gig at night, then I get the blogger who invited me to that city to tell me who they want to be six degree’s of separation from and I work it out for them or go meet someone who met that person or who is within the six degree’s to complete the circle!

I am well happy with that and hope to get it up and running as soon as possible so keep those invites coming!

On another note, went back to the East End tonight for a quick visit to see an old pal and was rather disappointed to see that prostitutes are getting younger and one girl had a black eye and desperate look on her face as she stumbled out of a punters car.

I hate heroin and everything it makes the addicts do, that young girl is someone’s daughter, she must have had hopes and dreams and I bet when she was 10 she never imagined she would sitting in cars having sex for another hit when she reached 16 (if she is that age).

My daughter meanwhile is living her dream going to University and loving it. I am so very proud and excited for her, I must admit I did laugh tonight when one of the old women from the Calton (East End where I lived for many years) asked me about my daughter “She is at University studying film and screenplay” I told her.
The wee white haired woman’s face crumpled with disgust and she looked me at me with pity and replied “Why is she at University, could she not get a job?”

I smiled and quickly said “Well you know your right, she doesn’t get that education shit off me, I was working since I was 16, and she must get that crap from his side of the family”

So there we have it, I have failed as a mother because my child opted for further education, but I best not be too smug.
My child is in bed dreaming of making her first film.
I am the luckiest, most grateful woman on the planet tonight and I hope we meet so you too can be a degree of separation from the two girls I am praying for tonight, one safe and well and some mother’s girl walking the streets nursing a sore face and trying to sell sex in the cold wet streets of Glasgow. If there is a God she will be safe.

Email me at janey@janeygodley.co.uk and join in with SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION, invite me to your town soon…

Only me again….

I was up half the night with scary nightmares and it seemed like I would never get out of them. I think I was dreaming about my old father in law, but this was probably because I was listening to the radio show I did last night about the book, and I was talking about him. I do miss him, though he died in 1994.

I am still organising stuff for my show on Friday night at Bar Bluu for the Glasgow Merchant City Festival, its being filmed for future use. I am hoping that it all goes ok, any Glasgow readers of the Blog do PLEASE come along, I would love to see you all.

To cheer myself up I am going to send out this new challenge that I will use as part of my show. I want anyone out there to INVITE me to their city; we can meet up so I can narrow the six degrees of separation down. I also want to do a comedy gig in that city and I want to meet someone famous FROM that city, so the next country/city I move onto I will meet another blogger and narrow down the sex degrees of separation…I have met the man who met the man who met Hitler and I have met Churchill’s grand daughter, so we can narrow down the degrees of separation to TWO of the most infamous people of the last century.

You can invite me to ANY country but it must be an honest and valid invite, I WILL PAY! But please don’t invite me if you plan to pull of my limbs and keep me in a small box in your wardrobe. I don’t wanna die!

I also want to see HOW FAR AWAY in the world the invites can come from.
Maybe I am bored…but it seems like a fun idea! Eh?

Sadness and Smiles on my Daughters first day at University.

Went into Glasgow’s Mitchell Library today to get the cutting from the newspaper where I recently talked about my Cousin Sammy’s death from heroin. It really did bring back memories when I saw the pictures of him in that double page spread. I loved him so much, I looked at his big cheeky smile in that photo and my heart lurched again. I miss him so much, even to this day.

He died in 2000, but I hadn’t seen him in about seven years before that as he had dropped off my radar when he had started taking heroin. It shocked me through to the core when I found out he had died and it still breaks my heart.

To make matters worse on this awful day which should have been less emotional as my wee girl went to University for the first time and I wanted to be happy, I found out one of my friends sons died today from heroin. It is still killing people and will never stop. My friend lives in London and it hurts to the core she has lost her only child.

It reminded me of how back in the very early 1980’s when heroin first came to my streets in the Calton area of Glasgow. It’s a relatively small place and I remember when all woke up to our first ‘Junkie’ and we were bewildered as to how it affected people. You have to put this into perspective, we had NEVER seen anyone who had taken heroin before and the results were devastating.

These were just wee ordinary people, factory workers, fish shop servers married to coal men and shop fitters; they didn’t know what was happening to their teenage kids. Alcohol was something they were prepared for, but this strange concoction that their kids were using with needles to pierce their new delicate teenage veins completely baffled this post 1960’s generation.

I can vividly remember going to visit a middle age mother who had recently lost her son to drugs. He had died in his bedroom after a fatal over dose; he was only 19 years of age.
Mrs Cuthbertson was a great seamstress and I had taken up a dress I needed shortened (I am small and dresses in the early 80’s were way too long for me). I sat in her smart two bedroom tenement, watching her feed my hemline into the greedy big sewing machine that she expertly managed. I smiled as I pointed to the picture of her recently deceased son and said “He was so handsome there; he always had a big shy smile”.

Mrs Cuthbertson looked up and smiled and told me how she always worried he would die from falling off his bike when he was small, how he always managed to crack his head on the swings, fall down the stairs and then she simply looked up at me with no emotion in her voice and said “who would have thought he would die in his bed wearing his favourite Celtic top, all cuddled up and safe”.


At that moment her husband walked in, a big square frame of a man, who looked broken, like someone had simply pulled out his life force and left the shell to stumble around carelessly.
“Don’t talk about him, he isn’t here now” the man mumbled as he let his bulky body sink into the chair with stuffed cushions.
Mrs Cuthbertson looked at me and shook her head. “He doesn’t know how to deal with it” she softly whispered to me.
“Do you?” I asked her, not really expecting an answer.
“No Janey, I don’t know, and neither does any the mothers around here, we just know something came and took away our kids and we will never know why”.

The grief was palpable in that house, it was like someone had came and left a big strange box in their living room and they all stepped around it, not mentioning it, never referring to it, like art they would never understand but just accepted that it was there for no real reason.

I hate what heroin has done to that generation of kids who will never grow up, they will be forever pictures on living room walls, smiling through gappy teeth and sporting a big knotted school tie.
They will live on in memory like Sammy does with me, I still hurt when I recall his funny laugh and wont ever forget how he held my daughter close as a new born baby and refused to pass her back to me as he told me “Janey look, a new wee life that you made and she is perfect, I cant wait to see who she will be”.
He never got to see, he died too soon.

Its Sunday Again.

So I have been well behaved since the ‘Mother went mental call the institution’ episode on Friday night. Thanks to all from Ohio, Montreal, Johannesburg, New York, Jamaica and England who emailed me with decent marital advice, I thank you all.

Sat today and read the fashion supplement of my favourite Sunday newspaper. I quickly realised how ‘OUT OF FASHION’ I am actually. There are tiny waspish looking women in fine Balenciaga frocks, slinky bent bodies clad in white on white stiff fabric that would immediately make me look like a small lollipoplady/fishmarket attendee. This new look that requires the wearer to be bound tightly into ‘Russian type’ military style great coats do not take into account women who have bulging hips and over blown breasts, they make me feel like I have been strapped into a strait jacket (after last weeks episode, this may be a blessing).

Who are these women who pay £400 for a handbag? I cannot imagine coming home, clad in a dark serge buttoned up jacket with ‘gypsy’ trim, a full flowing skirt and hobnail boots shouting to husband “Darling come quick and admire my Chloe handbag, it was only £400 and was on a waiting list, but I got mine before everyone else”. Trust me; he would institutionalise me on the spot.

Life is expensive enough and I am so very proud to report that my daughter Ashley is a cheapskate like her father. She would rather die than spend more than £15 on a top. She can get a full autumn wardrobe for £50-£60 from PRIMARK. That would include, bag, shoes, accessories and a vast amount of clothes…do you know who long it takes to shop for £60 worth of clothes at PRIMARK? An age is the answer, when most items average at £7.
She is tall and slim, she could wear an egg box as a hat, a potato sack as a dress and pigs feet as shoes and still look sensational. Trust me….she doesn’t but I am trying to make a valid point about, being young and sexy is easier to dress!

I am excited for Ashley she starts university tomorrow and it’s a big day for us all. I will let you all know how it goes!

My Body and my Life is Falling to Bits

I sat tonight on the sofa and rubbed my feet, the skin is scaly and cracked like a desert deprived of vital fluids. So I have just spent half and hour soaking and rubbing pumice on my corny old claw like feet, to finally get them smooth. I may have to use the same technique on my face and my personality.

I hate getting old, but am slowly dealing with it.

I am sleeping too much again, like I did at Edinburgh Fringe, I swear to God, I slept through that whole festival except for appearing on stage. I felt terribly tried all the time. I am still on anti-biotics and those herbal tablets probiotics I took to prevent thrush are truly working as I don’t have to take steel wool to scratch my toosh.

Went to visit my dad tonight and as Ashley talked, I would finish her tales and talk over the top of her, I did this constantly and my dad laughed and said “Can Ashley finish her own sentences?”

So then I realised that I DID do that all the time. Ashley laughed when we spoke about it and said “Well God knows how I will have a conversation without you there to end it or break in and take over it, Dad has had to live with it for years, I can’t wait to meet people and finish a whole sentence on my own”

So it’s official that I am a nutter. Not only that, I really was a fucking screaming mad person last night. Now my husband and I have been through 25 years of mental, hateful hurtful and blissful marriage, and anyone who has read my autobiography will ask why I am still here in this house with him. I have to agree it has been rough but the past years have been relatively good and peaceful.

Yesterday I was very agitated and snippy with both him and Ashley, for no good reason. I can’t explain why, but everything annoyed me and I was ready to snap every time one of them asked me a simple question. I felt as though something was itchy under my skin and felt exasperated for no reason. You could say I was hormonal.

Now to explain, I have no real idea why I felt so agitated and fractious, but I was and that’s that. I was sitting reading Donny Osmond’s biography and totally absorbed in ‘Donny’ world and yet husband kept asking me insignificant questions repeatedly and that was beginning to grate. Eventually I screamed at him to ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP’. He walked out the room and went to bed, so I ran in to the bedroom in a mad rush, pulled my clothes off and slammed my fat body into bed. He knew I was angry because I tugged and pulled all the covers and told him to ‘get fucked’.

As if that wasn’t enough, I lay there and decided to pick a fight with him. He was so complacent about my ‘fight’ efforts and just lay there trying to reason with me. I was not happy with that and decided to dissect his entire life and pick on EVERYTHING he has EVER done to me, I mean I went back to 1979 in this section of the marital debate.

I was beginning to gather steam and my sharp venom was flowing like putrid bile in the direction of his stoic shadow when he simply reached over and lifted up his beaker of cold diluted orange juice and threw it over my head as I lay there on the bed! I was shocked and aghast at this! With that he got out of bed and walked into the living room, I jumped out of bed and ran into the living room, dripping and fuming. “I am sorry, but you were desperate for a reaction, so I gave you one” He spoke quietly. My husband has not lost his temper in years, and to be honest, he hadn’t in that moment either. I did, I screamed at him and spat orange and venom at him.

I dressed whilst drying myself off and walked out of the house as I heard Ashley shout “Have you fallen out over Donny Osmond?” I had no idea where I was going, realised I was thirsty (Quite ironic since I was covered in sticky cold juice) I walked to the local shops and bought some fizzy Irn Bru (Scottish popular fizzy drink). I came home and husband was pulling all the covers off the bed to wash them, he also had to take the curtains down, as they are above our bed they got some of the juice on them also. It occurred to me in that moment that if I fought with him in all the corners of the house and he threw juice at me he would have to wash all the windows and curtains in the entire flat!

He apologised again, but I ignored him, sat at the table, opened the Irn Bru and it exploded all over me, soaking me yet again! I must admit I did laugh. We sat and talked and I had to explain to him I was pushing for a fight and wanted him to argue and I have no real answer as to why, maybe I was bored or something. He was upset at throwing the juice over me and we went to bed, cuddled up.

I lay there in the dark after he fell asleep, I watched the shadows move across the ceiling as cars came into the car park, and the room smelt of fresh bedclothes, the familiar smell comforted me. I tried to work out why I was so difficult to be with and I quietly reckoned to myself that I did push him and did want him to ‘lose it’.
Maybe I miss the aggressive unpredictable man he used to be, or maybe I sometimes feel I deserve to be punished. I don’t know why I feel that, but I promised to myself to stop being horrible and as he slept he slowly edged his leg over my thigh and his big arm went over me and I felt him breath on my neck and hair. He woke slightly and whispered “don’t leave me”.

I won’t, as the next man will never put up with me.

Gigs, Bookings and Donny Osmond…

I finally got the date set for my one woman show at Cochrane Theatre in London. It is on Tuesday December 20th, not a great day to have a 300 seater filled but it is the Christmas week and most people have weekend parties organised, so it might be ok. I am in London from the 9th of December and will be gigging around town.

The wonderfully talented people at Crown Lawn have sorted my flat out for me to stay, so it will be great fun. I love London in the winter; all those parks with the trees sparkling with frost and the city alight with seasonal decorations. It really is my favourite time of year.

I have been absorbed in reading Donny Osmond’s biography and for the love of GOD, when will that man do something scary and fucking unlawful. I mean, I know he is bound by his religion and his strict family values of which he adheres to make him a better man, but even Jesus would shout “Aw for fucksake, who managed to fuck up all the finances, why are we fucking poor after all those gold records?”

He was a virgin until his wedding night and he really is such a good father. (They pop a kid out every year it seems). I still love him though, I know that will incinerate any street cred I may have had, but it’s so true, he does come across as someone who really did have a strange life and he seems to really keep trying to re-invent himself. It makes you wonder why they didn’t just keep the cash and go home to Utah and keep horses, why does he still keep chasing fame.

Will you listen to me? I am 44 and am sitting at the PC securing gigs for throughout December; I should be baking a Christmas cake, storing red apples for my centrepiece at the seasonal dinner table and organising my bottles peaches for an unusual but ingenious desert with a holiday twist.

Instead I am packing off to London for most of the winter and three years ago I went off to New Zealand for SEVEN weeks over Christmas and New Year. Without my family! I sat on a beach and drank wine and watched dolphins as my family back home sat down to their lunch without me. I am selfish evil bitch and deserve to be burnt, but I did have a good time!

I may make holiday punch this year and give my husband a taste of that!

Life Goes on…

Am listening to Boz Scaggs, whose music is just startlingly brilliant! I love it. Sorry I was missing in action yesterday, I was babysitting baby Abi and wee Shaun last night. I got to sit on a floor and play ‘car crashes’ with big chunky vehicles for an hour and that was fun.

Shaun is eight and Abi is two and she can talk like you cannot believe, her wee cute lispy mouth does NOT STOP…I taught her the Hokey Cokey dance and you would have thought I had just given her the best gift ever. She screamed with excitement and we had to do the Hokey Cokey 58 times, it was baby crack…she is addicted.

Her wee blonde curls bob about her head as she animatedly talks and it’s so funny, she looks like Gene Wilder! Shaun and I had a serious chat about school and because I am an Aunty I took them late night shopping (they should have been in bed at eight!) we went to the local newsagents at 10pm and bought chocolate!

On another note, I bought the Donny Osmond autobiography! I know how cheesy am I? I loved him in the 70’s and cried when he sang ‘Puppy Love’ and vowed to hunt him down and marry him, honestly I am scared to meet him now in case I gush! I will still try to marry him.

I bought special tablets from herbal shop to counteract the anti-biotics and to stop me getting thrush. I am hoping they work as the last thing I want is an itchy toosh.

Had a few weird things happen today, firstly I got my new DVD from the guys who filmed me at Edinburgh Fringe, my whole show was filmed and I now have it and I watched it.

Fuck I am fat and I make MENTAL PATIENT faces when I am on stage, I am so animated it made me blush! Secondly I went to the shops to get bread and on the way the three old Muslim guys in traditional Arab-looking dress (that sounds terrible but I don’t really know the proper origin...sorry).
Anyway I pass them often and today as I walked by I smiled and one of them said hello and the other one spat at me (again) I think he is hearing voices, so I just gave him the finger as I would do to anyone who spits at me, and then as I came out of the shop a wee Scottish drunk told me I was a ‘Whore’, so I reckon today old mad people of all cultures were told by the voice in their head to abuse me! Lovely! Maybe that’s it over for another year. Bring it on boys I am almost menopausal…then I will kill for fun!

Singing Cats make me giggle

Today I found this site with singing Cats on click Here. It makes me piss myself laughing every time I see it! Today was better than yesterday health wise, my sore throat has calmed down due to the influx of hardcore anti-biotics that are probably killing me in a different way as I speak. I hate anti-biotics but I had to take something to get rid of the virus. I was going to try Chinese medicine that is so favoured here in the West, there are six Chinese herbal shops in my road, but until they can cure gambling and superstition, I am not going to trust them.

Was reading in the newspaper today that the ‘Clicking fingers advert for Make Poverty History’ was banned by OFCOM as it represents a political belief that they disallow to be broadcast on National TV. I hate OFcom; they said the goals of the campaign were political and therefore outlawed. Early this year Ofcom said I said the ‘C’ word or lets be adults here the word ‘Cunt’ on a TV programme ‘Kings Of Comedy’ that I was involved in that was screened on Channel 4, anyway after they released their findings and PRINTING them Nationally and on various media websites, it turns out IT WASN’T ME WHO SAID IT and I now have a government document of apology!
HAHAHA! The bastards! Funnily enough CUNT was the word I called them when they accused me of saying it, but not on live TV!

Was up the Byres road here in Glasgow today, I saw all the new freshers walking around getting used to their new University city. Glasgow University is literally streets away from me, it really is an awesome building dating back to the 16th century and beautiful to look at. Did wonder how all those parents felt leaving their kids behind in this sprawling city, am glad my daughter is going to local Uni and she can still stay at home, I know that is slightly selfish, but she already has all the freedom she needs and doesn’t have to pay a huge rent for some skanky flat where she doesn’t have en-suite bathroom and on call chauffeur and waitress service (her father).

To think I was married at her age! Doesn’t bear thinking about does it? What was I thinking of? I must have had a stroke at 18 and never really recovered.

Here are few things I have discovered at my age. I am 44 yet I feel the strange need to learn to skateboard and surf. My knickers hurt me because I am getting fat, my hair is growing grey and the grey bits grow faster than the not grey bits, my boobs are desperate to sit comfortably on my flabby belly that rest happily on my thighs, my eyes are crinkly and when I look in the mirror I can see where the crows danced happily around my eyes whilst I slept and my double chin is threatening to become a permanent feature of my overall look. Yet I really want to wear a slinky dress and dance to rap as I know all the words to Eminem. Who am I and when did I get this old? It must have happened in-between listening to Crowded House in the 1980’s and last week when I heard myself saying in the supermarket “Mmm…tights that stop varicous veins and yet look fashionable”. So that’s the point I got old…right there in that moment. Oh dear. I really still check young guys ass’s out and imagine flirting with them and having to refuse their sexual advances as I am married thank you very much. The only reason young hot guys stop me in the street is to ask me where the University is as I look a safe old nice lady in Glasgow.

So I have decided to lose weight, get new white teeth done, get toned and look sexual and fit. That will please me no end, Desperate Housewives may yearn for the sexual prowess of hot pool guys, I just want my tits to stop sitting on my tummy. That will make me happy.

Six Degree’s of Separation

So husband heard on the radio about six degree’s of separation, I am sure some of you reading this will be familiar with this theory. So I decided to explore who I have met famous and where that leads me in the Six degree’s situation.

So here goes, I have met Lauren Bacall in New York, therefore I have two degree’s of separation with Richard Nixon, Jack Kennedy, Marilynn Monroe, Humphrey Bogart and many many more. So I am up in this game, so anyone who contacts or knows me is THREE degree’s of separation from those famous people. Here is a list of all the people I have personally met.

The Queen
Prince (music man! Not Royal!!)
Russell Crowe
Orlando Bloom
Rhys Ifans
Jude Law
Damon Albarn
Ewan McGregor
Nicole Kidman
Rachael Weiz
Sienna Miller
Kevin Spacey
Dean Friedman
Noddy Holder
Nigel Benn
Peter Kay
Arabella Churchill (Churchill’s grand daughter)
Brooke Shields
George Best
Woody Allen
Billy Connolly
Robbie Coltrane
Ken Loach
David Frost
Richard Attenborough
Midge Ure
Wet Wet Wet
Eddie Izzard
Steve Coogan
Margaret Thatcher

I think that is as much as I can think of right now, so how many degrees of separation are you? Let me know who and how many!

Dogs Balls in my Throat…

I know what a weird title for my blog. I had a bit of a strep throat for the last few days, but last night my glands swelled up into two big Doberman’s dogs bollocks and they were accompanied by shooting hot flash pains into the centre of my ear. I woke up at 6am crying and demanding that husband ‘fix’ me immediately. He got me to call the doctors and make an appointment. Swallowing was a mammoth and near on impossible task, I was in such pain I had to cancel my breast exam. There was no way I could suffer tit squashing and throat ball pain at the same time.

The doctor took me in at 3pm and prescribed antibiotics, so therefore prepare to hear stories of itchy thrush disease taking over my weakened body. I am falling apart. Life is shit I tell you.

So I am hoping that this week I heal, as I am trying to get away for a few days with just husband and I to celebrate our anniversary, more likely he will sit beside me as I sweat and slowly flake out and fall apart…look out , here comes old age.

Ashley is all set to go to Uni and I am so excited for her, she seems so grown up and organised, I feel like stepping in and making sure she has all her books and buying her a new blazer…BUT that’s not how it works. Time for me to step back.
So the big old barren female Gorilla slowly walks towards the edge of the forest, tits flapping, hands trailing, no one missing her and prepares to pick berries and die slowly all alone in the mist.

Vomits and Lakeside Beauty!

Sorry I am late with this, my PC ran out of internet time in the hotel in Leeds and at £15 a pop, I refused to pay! Anyway on Friday night after the gig, husband and I went for a late night stroll down to the canal (he had seen it and thought it would be nice for me to see it too, as I had complained about how shit Leeds was).

So there we were walking in the warm balmy-ness of the late summer night and suddenly I felt slightly nauseous, then I felt extremely fucking sick and stood over a brick wall and projectile vomited up the entire contents of my stomach. Aspergic husband was meanwhile giving me a running commentary of the buildings names behind me “Oh look that’s called the Medical Project and your medically projecting your sick” he giggled as I struggled to stop the rush of vile bile splattering over my unruly badger trap hair.

I stood there horrified at my own shame, being so sick on the neatly cut lawn beside the canal, I saw cars going by with drivers shaking their heads at my vomiting expertise. Wish the fucking place hadn’t been so well lit!

Strangely the walk back to the hotel made me feel better than I dared to imagine!

The next morning Jeff Innocent (Lovely London comic who was on the same gig as myself) husband and I went for a long walk down the canal (nowhere near my regular vomiting patch). The walk became amazing; there were spectacular long boats and friendly wee people shouting out hello, there was a strange ileostomy kit lying discarded beneath a bridge! (Ileostomy is procedure that links the bowels to an artificial kit outside the body), we all speculated on the primal reason for the entire kit being there beside ancient stone capstans that sit stoically on the docks…that took up some of our free time, I can tell you.

We then walked on with images of bowel kits in our minds and came upon a cracking old Museum that used to be a real Northern Mill. Jeff and I were particularly excited because it mentioned a ‘Puffer’ train, so we hurried around the back to be confronted by a one engine unit that merely huffed and puffed up a short ten foot track and ‘PUFFED’ it’s wee hooter and went back down. We really thought we were going on a steam train…how fucking disappointing. I suggested going back for the Ileostomy kit and fitting it onto the steam train driver man, but that was considered cruel and unjust!

The museum was really interesting and then we went for coffee and some lunch. The gigs all went fine and dandy.

So today we set off home and stopped off in the Lake District. It was so very beautiful and the sun was bearing down, what I did not expect was to see so many Oriental visitors, the place was so packed with them and most were heading to the Beatrix Potter house, she must be really famous and popular with people from the East! I found it really enchanting to see so many people from so far away so interested in that form of literature! Good on old Beatrix! She can till pack ‘em in!

We wandered all over Lake Windermere and then we went onto Ullswater and Pooley Bridge, honestly it so nice and peaceful, the flowers that surround the place are breathtaking. So I am finally home and tomorrow I go for breast scan. I will let you all know how it goes.

Concrete City and Warm nights

I think back in 1930’s Leeds, there was a HUGE fuck off amount of free concrete on the go and Leeds took the lot and built shed loads of shed like buildings, slap bang in the centre. I have never seen a soul-less, culture-less looking city like this in my life, YET on the way here we passed beautiful wee villages and places that were positively picturesque! Poor Leeds…don’t hate me, but I love architecture and it has such a dire drought of them.

My husband went out early this morning to walk around town and on his arrival I asked him "What’s the place like?" He smiled and said "The 1970s"

So there we are, I did love their art gallery though and that was a good wee oasis in the middle of concrete world.

I put on loads of make up tonight, as those pictures of me in The Red Magazine, photo shoot did look colourful and maybe I don’t make the most of skin products, but my husband simply smiled as I asked him if I had too much make up on. As if he is really going to comment on my skin care regime, I may have well have asked him “Please describe my period pains in the form of physical theatre and dance”.

Like all intelligent men, he nodded and said I love your hair like that “I wasn’t asking about my hair” I baulked. “Sorry you look nice all over” He added, managing to cover all sensitive areas about my appearance. Bless him.

Can’t be easy being my husband. I am a nasty bitch and deserve to be shot like a horse at times. Tomorrow I will be good and lovely. I promise.

My IPOD is my LIFE!

Just downloaded Brandy by Looking Glass and Busta Rymes latest…fucking great stuff. I love music. Am sitting here in Leeds in a huge old hotel which took a fight and fist fuck to get the web to work, the fist fuck was mine, trust me £15 for 10 hours of web time by some expensive shit to log on web provider…crack is cheaper than that in ANY city.

This morning I tried to wake Ashley up to ask her to remember to check my chores list and get everything done for me coming home on Sunday, she merely peeped out of her duvet with big brown panda eyes and huskily whispered “Leave me cash and the list gets done, now let me sleep oh evil one”. I smiled and said “I love you chicken” She simply stuck out two fingers from the lumpy covers and said “Yes whatever, I am not ironing unless you pay me extra, I love you to mummy”. I forgot how awful she is in the mornings, fuck knows how some poor man and baby will cope with HER in the years to come, she really is Regan from Exorcist up to at least 2pm daily.

To think that wee bitch used to wake me up at 3am regularly when she was a toddler “Mummy more milk” she would shout as she rattled her empty bottle along the bars of her cot like some long term prisoner in San Quentin.

Can’t even begin to imagine her getting up for a baby at any time! That’s GOOD as she is too young to be a mummy!

Ok get this, we drove into Leeds city centre at 4pm and we saw the hotel as we neared the railway station at 4.15pm but it took an HOUR to get to the hotel, as they have an scary, unbelievable ‘ring loop one way system’, I swear to God it is a version of Lord of The Rings like never seen before, an evil version, and the locals laugh as they watch scared, confused drivers trying to figure out how to negotiate TWO streets around this nightmarish ‘loop system’. We ended up screaming at each other in the car and as we did we saw other couples scrabbling and screaming into their partners faces as they too tried to make sense of the Enigma like traffic system. In the end a taxi driver had to TAKE us through the fourteen sets of traffic lights, one way system and snake like single lane paths that got us from the main street to the hotel 40 yards away.

Leeds is evil and weird. The gig was great though and I loved it.

Am Home and Happy.

The photo shoot for Red Magazine was amazingly funny. Firstly it was in a big house in Hackney. The owners of this place are professional antique dealers and that is reflected in the beauty of their home. They had a big bathroom with an ancient but beautiful claw footed bath, huge original sinks and amazing décor. The best part was their mental dog Alfie, who nearly wrecked the photo shoot by dragging in half a tree and placed it on my white linen skirt for me to throw. It was a great wee dog, its tail wagged so much that it made the happy dog walk like Mae West in a tight dress, its wee bum wiggled and waggled as it happily slavered on my white outfit and turned up the pleading eyes for me to come play with it…awesome.

I of course, after having professional make up and hair done, threw myself into the garden and rolled on the grass with happy wiggly woggly dog…The photo team were so annoyed, but you know how I love dogs! The pictures were very smart.

I had great fun in London, the flat was just SO Chelsea and the balcony became my home. Monica, Reginald D Hunter and I had dinner last night and sat out watching the sun set over London. It was lovely, two of my best friends in one place.

I am off to Leeds tomorrow to do Jongleurs Comedy Clubs. I am MC for the weekend. Talk soon.

My Picture at Red Photo shoot 

Tired in London

Got up early for the flight and was surprised to see a very old Aunt from my family at the airport (she is a distant relative) Auntie Sadie, she is 98 years old and very brutally honest. “You are fat, at least you can laugh about that in your comedy thing” she shouted really loudly in at check in coz she is deaf.

Lovely! So here I am in dusty hot London. The flat I have rented is AWESOME…truly the best Crown lawn, are the best letting agent in the world. I have a balcony with views across Chelsea.

Had dinner with Monica after I attended BAFTA preview of Brokeback Mountain-Jake Gyllenhall is juicy and was in attendance, we got to ask him questions about the movie.

Thanks to all who viewed my comedy clip and sent me funny comments and good honest criticism. Love ya!
More blog tomorrow, I am very old and fat.

My comedy clip

Hot hot Sunday!

Wow! The weather is just so damn hot today, we melted. Ashley and I went up to my sister Ann’s home to visit, she has a big garden and we decided that was the place to sit in the sunshine. We took a couple of deck chairs, some books and cold drinks for our sunbathing escape.

It was good to hang out with my big sister, she came along to the gig last night and she is a big laugher, which is great for any comedy night.

Her kids are now teenagers, and the have turned into lovely big girls. One is 16 and the younger girl is 15 and Ashley loves to see her cousins.

As I was sitting there in the blistering heat, I called Monica who asked me where I was, so I told her I was sun bathing, she screamed at me to get out of the sunshine as the last thing Red magazine needs is a big photo of my blistered red face! Fuck I forgot and immediately rubbed sunscreen of my fat cheeks.

Also got the clip of me doing a wee bit of my set on a video clip, (above in the title)its part of my show at Edinburgh fringe, there is some strong language so if you are easily shocked…its going to be a bumpy night!

1980 and White Weddings

The gig at Billy Bonkers went great, I decided not to do my show and let the audience decide by suggestion how the gig should go and they gave me such diverse subjects as ‘My life as a cornflake’ and ‘Russian Seamen’. I managed both, ok it was nerve wracking but good to keep me on my toes.

It was a nice ten year anniversary gig for me, but if I thought ten years ago I would be stood on that stage taking audience opinions on the show, I would probably never have carried on as a comic.

Can’t quite believe how far it’s all come. I am also 25 years married this month!

So to celebrate that I went into my 1980 diary for an excerpt to see how weird time and life have taken me, so here goes…

September 6th 1980.
Am really annoyed at him, I have no say over who comes to this fucking shitty wedding. His family have already chosen that we have the reception at the shite Palaceum bar. It’s his dad’s pub and big deal it will save fucking money, why do we have to go there? My dress is £58 and it was in the sale at Lady at Lord John. I hate that shop, who fucking calls a woman’s department after a man? It doesn’t even have its own name, just Lady at… and who the fuck is Lord John? But they have a sale on and he wants me to get a cheap dress so I did. Its white bri-nylon frilly thing and the woman there said I should bring my mammy into see it before I choose, but I am not going up to get her into town. So I told them my mammy was dead. That shut her up, fuck I hope that isn’t bad luck and she dies before the wedding.
I picked a wee diamante tiara and white veil to wear. I wrapped it all up and stuck it in the box and put it up top the wardrobe.
He told me last night that if we stay together for a year that will be a miracle, I agree. He feels like a stranger at times and being with him feels like the loneliest place in the world and I am about to marry him. This might be a mistake but I do love him and he tells me he loves me to and I do believe him, I just hope he doesn’t mind me not having kids as I hate the thought of that. I am NEVER going to have children in case the turn out like his family or mine. I made a cake today for Christmas and his aunty tells me I have keep pouring brandy into it up until Christmas week, I swear to fuck it drinks brandy like a smelly drunk. I want to be a good wife and am learning to use the pressure cooker and may start to cook better. I got new shoes today and they hurt me, I think I have one feet bigger than the other, he doesn’t know he is marrying a deformed person.

That was the end of the diary entry; can you imagine that I actually BAKED years ago?? What was I thinking?? Don’t bake, buy a cake and use the time to eat chocolate and masturbate! Well 25 years later I am still here, we are still terribly mismatched and fuck knows if it will last another year but one thing is for sure, I cannot use a pressure cooker.

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Flies and Fun…

Went to see my favourite wee baby niece Abi, she is two years old and chats like you can’t believe. Her mum and I were laughing at something and the baby came running in, pointed straight at me and shouted “You are not funny”, it was the most hilarious thing I have ever seen.

All day I kept making her say it to me and she would stand and shout it over and over again. Made me laugh my ass off, then a big dragonfly came flapping into the room and she loves spiders and insects, so we caught it and let her look at it in detail before we released it out the window, just then a manky fly came in and Abi shouted

“Oh look! A fly, how cute!”

So then we had to explain how SOME flying creepy crawlies are nice but flies are EVIL and lick dog poo!

Today in the tenth anniversary of my first ever paid comedy gig!

I can’t believe it is that long since my first PAID gig! It was at Billy Bonkers club and tomorrow I am back there doing an extended set.

Just a quick note, I am trying to contact Nick Collett, a mate of mine who left his details and I promptly lost, if he is reading this blog, please email me again as I cannot find your email address anywhere!
Also a quick shout out to all the blog readers in Canada and South Africa who check this blog daily! Thanks guys, it makes me smile knowing there are people sitting in a different environment and climate smiling at Glasgow stories!

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What day is it?

I have the cold BACK with a vengeance, I woke up today with a big spot inside my nose and my head feels like a fucking evil squirrel lives there and is trying pick its way out with a toffee hammer. Why?

We got the new quilt today and I am not sure I like it and throwing out my old one was sadder than normal…I am mental? Maybe.

Ashley and I are writing some sketches for BBC and the fun we are having is way too much, husband sat there listening to us both whilst tutting as some of the sketches bordered on totally politically incorrectness and plain evilness…well they did want them dark.

Ashley’s funny voices and character role play makes me laugh till my nose spot bleeds. She really is truly mental and funny, fuck I am glad she has my humour and his height.

I am off to London on Monday to do the photo shoot for Red Magazine and I am hoping, spotty-ness and fatness can disappear over a weekend. Is it just me or is the television deluged by adverts for anti wrinkle skin cream? I am a wrinkly old whore and cannot shift any of them and each day brings more and more to the canvas of my fat face.

So I will be fat spotty woman in the magazine, I also got the brochure for the Merchant City Festival where I am performing my one woman show and they have me billed as JANE GODLEY…the fucking name police hate Janey and keep dropping the Y…why?

Saw on the Scottish news that Lord Watson has been charged with setting fire to curtains in a hotel and his political career is OVER. I remember when I used to give him the shops next door to my pub back in the 80’s as his Labour Party Head quarters; maybe his stay in Glasgow’s Calton district turned him into a fire starter? What the fuck makes a man in some sort of power set fire to a hotel? He was caught on camera doing it!!

I watched with horror at the news, all those poor people in New Orleans struggling under all that water, dead people floating about and children starving and dying slowly under dehydration and burning sunshine. I sat there listening to that fuckwit Bush complaining about the looters, he actually mentioned people were stealing gas at the gas pumps. Maybe he will kill them for oil as well. I mean for fucks sake, if my child was dying of starvation I would break into any shop to get her water and food. I am sure there are people robbing a few shops, but where the fucks are they going to sell those goods? Come on they are looting shops for dry clothes and water, medication and food.
I watched the news and was appalled to hear that before the hurricane came the buses provided to take people from the city were CHARGING the folks…these are poor people.
I cannot be the only person who assumes that Bush would be happy that the poor die and the city needs rebuilding, how much would that generate an economy?

Ok rant over, I am off to stab my BUSH doll in the eye with a blunt stick.