Baby Abi and her visit to Paradise…

I went to visit my great niece Abi; she is three and half years old now and is funnier by the minute.
Abi has all the DNA of my performing gene and loves nothing better than getting on her wee ‘stage’ or footstool that she carries around and does a show for us.

This particular show was incredibly hysterical.
Abi stood on the stage and announced in her ‘American’ accent that she was Sally.
It’s strange that Scottish kids speak in this American accent when play acting but due to the overload of American kids show this is the voice they assume when playing.

“Hello there my name is Sally and I live in paradise” Abi theatrically announced to her mum and I as we sat at the kitchen table. Her wee funny over exaggerated American accent made us giggle.

“Well hello Sally” I impersonated her accent and started the conversation “So where is paradise then?” I asked.

“Paradise is America and I live there with my five children” she answered, stroking her curly hair and coyly swirling her body in a disturbingly odd way.

“What does your husband do then Miss Sally” I asked her.

“My husband is a vet and when dead animals come to him for help he makes them alive” she drawled.

Her mum and I made eyes at each other and smiled, Abi always has to have some element of death come into every situation and this often bewilders us, but we carried on with the show.

“What is your job then Sally?” I asked her.

She took the hem of her sundress and twirled about and said with a flourish “I work on stage this is my work, I am an actress”

“Oh thats wonderful what show do you work on then?” I carried on.

“Its called Bunnies in the Field” she answered with an air of authority, like we should have known that world famous show she works on!

“How does this show go then Miss Sally?” I continued.

“Well, all the bunnies come on stage and they lick the ladies” she answered as she smiled and batted her big curly eyelashes.

“Ok that sounds like Hugh Heffner production” I laughed.

Her mum and I sat there with eyes agog at this bizarre statement, neither of us trying to picture bunnies licking women! We ended up laughing out loud.

Abi got annoyed at us laughing and added “Well only the bunnies that are alive lick all the ladies, the dead ones just lie around the floor and the dancers sometimes stand on them and they squish” she pouted.

I couldn’t stop laughing at dead bunnies being squished and live ones licking women, I sat on the bus home giggling.

I love Abi, her wee Scottish head and wild American accent will delight me forever.

Back Home and Yes I know I am late with this blog…

Glasgow is rainy and cold and my flip flops aren’t working well in the weather.
Ashley was so happy to see us and looks great! She has a wonderful haircut and looks even more beautiful since we last saw her.

Our flat has suspicious marks here and there, like in the toilet there is a stain on the carpet that I can’t figure out and my kitchen units are grubby and it’s strange as all the finger marks are down very low.

Either she had a very drunk dirty dwarf in my flat in my absence OR her mates were all so drunk they went around on their hands and knees!

She has the remains of her wonderful big pink fairy castle birthday cake that was ordered for her 21st birthday party that happened when we were away.
The icing is so thick that one slice would induce a heart attack on swallowing!
I think about 18 kilos of sugar went into the making of that confectionery cake.

I did a gig last night at the Edinburgh Stand comedy club for the Green Party political benefit. I am not sure I agree with all their policies but we have elections coming up and I am still unsure as to where my loyalties actually lie.
I really don’t trust politicians and Tony Blair is the Devil as far as I am concerned.

To think in Britain we hated Margaret Thatcher and now she is the Myra Hindley to Blair’s Fred West…Thatcher looks mildly palatable in the light of Blair. I really hate him.

So that’s my politics for today!
I am neither green nor blue and certainly not quite red yet.

Tales from London…

“There is a Scottish pub in Fulham, lets go round and watch the Celtic match” Husband suggested as we walked through Chelsea in the sunshine.



“I hate football pubs and hate anything Scottish in another country, it’s all too patriotic for me” I moaned.

So we went there as my words mean nothing.



It was a tiny wee bar, on entering we saw loads of small fat people in Celtic football colours and we knew they were Scottish as that’s our national shape and sport.

We got crushed up against the bar and I stared at the screen that took up the whole wall as I was quite into the football.

I do love football as a sport, but being raised in sectarian Glasgow, it always makes me feel anxious, due the violence that it caused over the years.



Catholics and Protestants, Green and Blue, Celtic and Rangers all hating each other….that shit never goes away.



I was five minutes in the place when an Oriental man came in with big bag and scrambled his way through the crush.



“Oh Chinky Chonker come here” the wee fat man with a big stretchy green and white hooped Celtic shirt shouted and clawed his way through the throng to get to the Oriental man.



I was aghast…I looked at husband and we both gawped at each other with huge astonished eyes…who speaks like that to people nowadays?

Clearly Glaswegians in London is the answer.



The Oriental chap merely smiled and pulled out of his bag a bunch of bootleg DVD’s, it can a stereotyped view but in the UK the majority of bootleg DVD sellers that go round bars selling their goods are from The Far East.



Fair enough but to call him Chinky Chonker man is hideously insulting.



The Oriental man chatted to the fat bloke and they swapped cash and DVD’s.



“This better work better than the last shite you sold me Gonga Din ya Chinky Bastard” the wee fat man laughed and the Oriental man smiled and stuffed the cash into his pocket.

“You Japs need a good talking to my man” the Scottish bloke added.

He was clearly unsure of the man’s nationality and went for every pop at his roots. The man could have been an Eskimo for all he knew.



I sat there ashamed at my fellow Scot and really wanted to scream.



Then the irony of the situation kicked in because there on the football screen was the wonderful Celtic player Shunsuke Nakamura scored a goal for the Glasgow team and the whole place went crazy.



“The Man from Japan is a genius” a woman screamed as the people jumped up and down in the crowded bar in joyous celebration.



The DVD seller threw up both his arms and shouted in the best English accent I heard that day (including mine)

“Yes! Go Nakamura; show the British how to play football”



He hopped around in excitement and said to the gathered and now astonished crowd “That’s how you win games, hire a Chinky to score for your team”



The man left the bar yelling with happiness that his countryman had scored for a Glasgow team, the Glaswegians in the bar had no idea how to deal with that information and I thought I was going to piss the seat with laughter.



Now that’s a result a football match that will take years to beat in my opinion.

Life in Sunny London…

London is cold and bright, I am tired and husband is so bloody efficient that I may enter him (not physically) but for Husband of the Week.


He has packed, moved and organised our trip to London.


We are down for three weeks and I have gigs all over the south of England.

Mostly London but I do have three nights in Birmingham. I have meeting and radio stuff to do.


Usually when we both go on these wee mini tours together all we end up doing is arguing, but this time we seem to have cracked it. Ok that maybe a premature statement as we are only into day 3 of the trip but I have devised a new way to stop bickering fights.


Every time husband says something that really irritates me, like when he singsongs an answer to a question (he does this a lot) OR when he starts to find fault in the little things that I do….I just sing a really good song in my head and ignore him totally.


It works! But it does freak him out slightly as he knows that when he does something he expects a reaction, where as I just smile and hug him.


This is making him scared...but at least we aint fighting like fuck every five minutes, the down side is…my brain is becoming a West End Musical and husband is walking around bewildered.


The answer to a happy marriage is not to understand each other but to devise ways to ignore every word that comes out of each others mouth.