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.