Of course I will brag about my child, what else can I do? No one in my entire family history finished fucking school never mind went through a full private education till they were 18 years old and then onto University and stayed on right through till they got their Honours, with a commissioned writing job at BBC..Brag? Oh fucking yes I will!
Most females in my family line get pregnant or married before they were 10 years old! So am very proud and happy, I walked out of school on my 16th birthday, have no qualifications and no educations to speak of unless you count the street level of East End Glasgow-ness I got after running a bar in the Calton.
My education was based on 16 old men, two old hookers and a street fighter who all collectively taught me how to
A) Fight with a stool
B) Get Semtex off a wall without it exploding
C) Check 20 pound notes for authenticity
D) Spot a plain clothes police officer at 50 feet
E) To scam money from posh people
F) The best way to avoid paying electricity bills
G) To siphon petrol from other peoples cars
H) A great way to win at dominoes
I) The use of hot coffee in oral sex (the old hooker told me this)
J) The way to shop lift using tin foil in your bag
So my education though not formal, has been interesting.
My week has been cool; I attended a party at Film City in Glasgow with John Smeaton and Ashley. We met heaps of TV and film industry people who were all nice and a few really irritating young actors who actually used the words “nice speaking to you but I need to go network” who uses the word ‘network’ in everyday conversation? I wanted to punch their wee annoying faces. The only time I use the word ‘network’ is when my laptop fails to connect to the internet and I have to choose which network to piggy back and steal (see that east End education worked, am now stealing invisible electric waves).
On Saturday I went over to Dunoon to do a gig. I haven’t been there before.
Dunoon used to be a big draw for Glasgow women in the 70s and 80s when the American navy had a base there. They all used to get on the ferry and head over to the peninsula (most people mistake it for an island but it is connected to the land, it’s just quicker by ferry) and the women would go ‘date’ the American boys. A good few of my school friends met married and consequently divorced an American guy they had met in Dunoon. Though I know there still are thousands of Scottish women all in their 40s and 50s who live in the US after meeting their love in Dunoon.
Frankly the draw of handsome Yankee boys would never get me to go to Dunoon because the sheer amount of tiny midges that bite you to death at sun down is horrific. I don’t care how sexy, different, lovely and rich those guys were those midges would take the edge off any illicit sexual encounter as far s I am concerned. So back in the day I didn’t head off to Dunoon for a Yankee boy, I stayed at home and married the local publican’s son, the courtship was insect free and that’s all that matters to me!
Anyway I went to Dunoon. The gig was in a rugby club, which doesn’t bode well. The place was fine, there were some very drunk boys and they look like trouble, but what really worried me was- there was a woman in her 50s who looked like she regularly won the ‘drink like fuck, and scowl a lot’ Trophy. She was with her husband who looked uncomfortable. Big Graeme Mackie was onstage and the crowd were laughing their heads off but angry scowl woman and stony faced husband sat with their arms folded. The woman finally burst out “You are shit and not funny” but she couldn’t really be heard as everyone was laughing loudly at Graeme. She really needed to get attention so she waited until he was in the middle of a joke and she screamed “stop laughing”.
Her husband was duty bound to back her up so he nodded with her. Everyone stared at them, everyone knows them coz Dunoon is a tiny place. The crowd stop staring and laughed at Graeme’s punch line.
Graeme coped admirably and told her to stop yapping. The crowd carried on laughing until the break. The grumpy husband took that opportunity to grab me ( I hadn’t been onstage yet) and say “if you get up there and say the words motherfucker, I will be really offended, that’s an American saying and I really hate it”
I stared at his fat bulbous face and answered “You just said ‘Motherfucker’ to me and I find that offensive!”
This made him stare at me in confusion. I don’t have a problem with any words but I just wanted to throw it back at him. Then I added “Why don’t you like American sayings? Did something happen with an American sailor years ago?”
At this his grumpy wife jumped up and shouted at me “the comedy isn’t funny”
I suspect there are many underlying tensions between these strange wee middle aged people but I didn’t see why I had to get involved.
Then the crowd around them started telling them to leave as they were all having a great time and they were spoiling it for everyone. The look on their faces when they realised that their own neighbours and friends wanted them out and wanted us on made them so fucking angry. They just wanted EVERYONE in the room to agree that the comedy show was rubbish. Only one act had been on and he was awesome, the crowd loved him, the angry couple didn’t want to like it and wanted everyone to leave with them.
Finally scowling woman and strange husband got up and walked out as the crowd clapped. I felt sorry for them a bit as they seemed to be so unhappy and felt ostracised by their own people, that scowling woman looked like she normally got her own way, and this wasn’t going how she wanted it to.
By the time I got on at the end the crowd was fucking amazing. They loved the show and they just sucked up comedy like proper comedy junkies. It was a shame that the start was odd, but that does happen occasionally in small places where comedy comes to town. There will always be one person who decides that they don’t like therefore everyone else has to hate it and not laugh out loud for fear of upsetting their plan to destroy the evening.
The only down side to Dunoon is the fucking tiny midges who swarm into your hair and face and bite like fuckity till you cry. I think I will never go back because of that, angry women I can cope with, biting insects...NEVER!