Janey Godley’s Podcast “Episode 25”

(Please be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

In the twenty-fifth episode of Janey Godley’s Podcast, Janey and Ashley review 2010 taking in all things; Twitter and the sex scandals of the social network, both give their highs and lows of films, TV and music of the year. Ashley gives her run down of the World Cup including her favourite players, games and incidents. Janey talks about her year and its events, the Bold Alec gets an airing and a stunning revelation about a certain Mr Sheen comes to light, Janey and Ashley pick their favourite female of 2010 and look back on the political highs and lows around the world, they question Cheryl Cole’s popularity and ask why Tiger Woods shouldn’t have lots of sex… all this plus more laughs and banter! Wishing you all the best for the New Year, Ashley and Janey xx


Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://www.janeygodley.podomatic.com

It’s the most awkward time of the year

This year has been odd for me, I haven’t put up a tree, I didn’t bother with presents and Ashley is away at her mates for Christmas. That’s what’s happening in my life. Husband and I had some small dealings with dad who was in and out of hospital with his impending hernia op (which still hasn’t happened) so we weren’t really Christmassy!
Oh and something I found out, old people in Glasgow are all incredibly racist- my dad is convinced that the reason he didn’t get his emergency operation wasn’t because the hospital was busy, but because Polish and Romanian people are hogging all the NHS beds. He moaned and shouted about foreigners taking over our country and got all racist and angry. It didn’t help that his surgeon was Polish and tried to calmly explain why they couldn’t operate this week. Dad was purple with vile angry racist shit being kept inside his mouth, for if nothing else he isn’t mental. That’s the man who will actually cut him open at some point. My dad is no fool.

We bought some nice food and I did my last Christmas gig on 23rd December and we got prepared to stay in over the seasonal holiday.

I had some odd experiences at the comedy Christmas shows. I don’t know if you know but we have a telephone exchange box outside our front door that belongs to Virgin Media. The problem is the box buzzes really loudly if you don’t believe me here is the link on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppB4SoNVGDY&feature=related
Anyway, I contacted Virgin by email, twitter and phone. I also got the Glasgow council noise pollution people to come out and check the constant buzzing out. The guy who attended was appalled at the constant horrible noise and has made a formal complaint. Ashley and I have both had terrible headaches and my migraine came back after 2006, it seems the low level constant buzzing is making us ill.

So I was onstage the other night and 25 guys were sat on the side and as soon as I walked onstage they all started doing a loud buzzing noise. The audience were startled and I have never been heckled by a big bee before. Anyway turns out they all work for Virgin Media and for some reason they ALL know I complained about the buzzing box and decided it was funny to scream about it at a comedy club.

“Guys, you work for a major corporation, it’s not a small privately owned local company that I pissed off and as soon as Sky + takes over Glasgow you lot are out of a fucking job, I don’t understand why you are annoyed that I complained about your multi Million pound company that pays you shit wages” It’s like some burger scraper getting annoyed I pissed off McDonalds.


The guys started heckling again and doing buzzing noises and howling with laughter, the audience all stared at me scared. I shut them up and got on with the show. Later on as I was walking past the Virgin Media table one of the big men offered to shake my hand, which I was happy to do “Fuck you bitch” he screamed and made a buzzing noise and all his mates started laughing and slapping each other on the back pointing and laughing at me.

At this point all I could say was “you are a grown adult man, what is wrong with you?” Just as I went to walk away the man grabbed me and at that point the bouncers threw him out. They were so ready to spring him, I couldn’t stop laughing and as he was taken away the rest of the audience made a buzzing noise!

What I don’t get about that whole situation was this, why would employees of a huge fuck off corporation take issue with a woman who had a valid complaint? To round this story off in a Christmas fashion I have paid someone to batter the box with a sledgehammer and take out the whole computer system within, it will am afraid- knock out 3,000 phone lines in the West End of Glasgow, which I am not one of, I am with BT- anyway on Christmas day when 3,000 people scream at Virgin Media and have to get emergency cover, then I think you will find that I will be hanging out of my window making a buzzing noise, and pointing and laughing. Fuck you Richard Branson! (This is obviously a joke).

Meanwhile in our flat the storage heater in the living room has broken, I know its broke because we took it apart and saw how fucked up it was. Like the thing not working wasn’t enough I had to dismantle the whole heater, drag out bricks and finger broken elements and finally declared “That heater is fucked”
We are now heating the whole room with one small floor blow heater, the bedroom is frozen also, as Glasgow is actually 7 degrees below freezing. So we now are basically shoving hot water bottles up our asses and are piling blankets on the bed. The covers are so heavy that you can’t turn in bed, it’s like behind crushed under concrete. The ice and snow is so thick on the ground outside that we all now walk like deformed pensioners. Am worried dad will go out there and fall on his head, so he has been well warned. We are waiting for the snow to go and we are hoping to get a new heater soon.

Other than that Ashley and I have been planning our Adelaide trip and I am organising my one woman show at Glasgow comedy festival in April, you can check out links to both on my website www.janeygodley.com

So I hope it’s been a good Christmas for you all out there, hope all is good and safe in your world and if you get bored you can always listen to our weekly podcast (again check my website) and let us know what you think about it.

Early Morning Shenanigans

Recently I have had to get up at 7am on a cold winter morning. I know this is nothing new or wildly awesome but to me it’s insane. Am a comedian I sleep till midday, then stagger about the house with slippers on the wrong feet and start to wake up around 2pm.

The last time I had to get up early on a regular basis is when Ashley was about 11 years old, then I got her up for school and watched her from my window as she skipped off to the underground and went to school herself. Even then I was only awake for 30 minutes maximum.

Before that I was awake really early when she was a tiny baby and we lived in the east end above the pub and you see a different world at 5am. I used to sit beside the window in spring time feeding her watching The Calton wake up. There were the early risers off to work from the flats across the road, that woman with the purple dyed hair whom I didn’t know, off in a cab in a fur coat with sexy shoes, the wee widow in the brown coat with her slow ancient Alsatian both hobbling on cracked hips on the grass and the junkie who hadn’t slept and looked like he was on his knees in pain sitting on the red fence across from the bar watching for ….I don’t know really. His jittery jumpy agitated behaviour made me feel stressed. Back then if the sun was up and Ashley was happy to get dressed after a feed, I would get her in the stroller and walk her into town at 6am!

Glasgow city centre was empty at that time, save for a few commuters and homeless wanderers. It gave me time to be with her for as soon as 11am hit I would be behind the bar and Ashley would be with her dad and I wouldn’t see her till teatime and then it would be my turn to be parent and his turn to be barman. So I enjoyed early mornings in those hazy crazy days of the mid 80s!

Now, I practically scream if I have to be up before 9am, it’s like some type of torture!

Anyways Christmas is almost here and am not really that fussed. Ashley is going to stay with mates and husband and I are planning a steak dinner, some cheap wine and a BAFTA screener DVD session on the box. My dad hasn’t been great and may end up in hospital over the season, so we have to be prepared for that.

I love my dad, he is funny and witty. I told him me and Ashley were going to Australia and husband is staying behind to look after him (not that he needs much to be honest).

“Dad if you die when am away in Oz, I won’t be coming back for a funeral as it will be really hard to get a quick flight and to be honest I don’t want to come back to look at a dead body, are you cool with that?” I asked him.

Dad and I talk a lot about how we will both deal with his death, we have that kind of relationship. “Oh don’t come back, but don’t let your husband organise the funeral as much as I love him he will probably organise a shit singer with an accordion or a balloon animal guy or something odd like letting Glasgow pigeons flap into the air as my coffin gets burned” he laughed.

“no, he is not that imaginative, he will have a dull funeral with no booze and cheap sausage rolls” I replied.

“That’s what I want, no booze and your husband dishing out cheap meat” he giggled.

Although I joke about it, I really don’t know how I will feel when he goes. I am lucky to have a great daddy and I adore him as much as he loves me.

Am off, am crying for no good bloody reason now.

Janey Godley’s Podcast “Episode 23”

(Please be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

In the Twenty-third episode of Janey Godley’s podcast, the mother and daughter duo discuss The Virgin Media buzzing box, they dissect the latest Hollywood movies and debate access to famous people through twitter. Janey has a rant about Liz Hurley and her latest sexual conquest, Ashley’s talks about her weird jelly dreams and Janey rambles on about the Irwin Family in Australia. Ashley explains why her generation was let down by the movies of the 90’s. Our photo competitions get a mention, Janey tells a big Glasgow story that really is lost in translation and Ashley tells the truth about getting vibrated in a department store.


Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

Things that happen to me

I walked into the Co-op shop in Shawlands on Sunday, it was deathly quiet, I was picking up some smoked salmon for my niece and strolled around at my leisure- there was nobody about except for two old women who stood beside me bemoaning the fact they couldn’t get tomatoes during the snow snap. The silence was broken by a staff member screaming “Hit the panic button Tam, there’s a man with a knife stealing!” the old women looked startled, I languidly pulled out my iphone, for if there was going to be a Co-Op stabbing, I wanted it on You tube.
“where’s the panic button?” screamed the panicked Co-Op team member.
“Under the till you fucking knob” shouted the other panicked Co-Op team member “he stole a selection box of Terry’s Chocolate Orange and ran out with a knife.”

The underwhelming robbery was over in seconds, I got no stabbing on my Iphone and nothing to upload to YouTube. The staff all stood outside and squinted against the cold sharp sunlight beating down on the South of Glasgow as they watched a man run off with a box of Chocolates and a knife. I wanted to ask did he steal the knife as well, but they all looked too panicked to deal with such questions.

I took the smoked salmon and headed to Ann Mag’s house to spend some time with her kids whom I adore. Just then a pensioner slipped beside me, grabbed my arms and pulled me down to the wet frozen ground. She was still upright, I was on my arse, with smoked salmon lying out on the pavement. “Am sorry hen, you ok?” the wee woman muttered as she tentatively walked off leaving me to slide about getting up onto my feet.

So, now I am wet, sore and carrying smoked salmon towards Ann Mag’s close and a dog ran into my legs and knocked me on my arse again. The dog owner didn’t even apologise and yet again the pack of smoked salmon skittered on the pavement. Eventually I got into Ann Mag’s house and her youngest daughter Julia aged 4 said “Your bum is wet and the salmon packet is dirty, did you find that in a bin?” …how we laughed.

The downside of the snowy streets is that my wee dad can’t get out of his house as he lives on a big sloping street. You would think when he was 50 and bought that house he might have thought “When am nearly eighty and it snows this is going to be hard for me” but he didn’t think like that, he bought an inconvenient house on an inconvenient street which turns into the local ski slope in the winter time. Then he moans he cant get out!

I am lucky this winter and am working all month in Glasgow, I will be at either Highlights Glasgow or Jongleurs Tiger Tiger in Glassford Street, Glasgow this December at Weekends.

Janey Godley’s Podcast “Episode 22”

(Please be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

In the twenty-second episode of Janey Godley’s Podcast Janey and Ashley discuss a Vagazzle, her first crush, John Lennon gets a mention, Janey recalls her comedy pal who passed away this week in 2004, they both were horrified at Black Eyed Peas performance on X Factor and impersonate them, they also sing Cher live and chat about Wikileaks which is big news lately. Ashley’s diary gets a revisit, then they discuss Ashley’s sliced finger and Ashley gives out her Christmas wish list. Janey inadvertently outs a pop star (which could be a mistake). Trudi the disabled Yorkshire housewife has her rant read out, Janey recalls a Christmas story and encourages listeners to send in photo’s of Ashley mocked up to win Ashley’s bra.


Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

A weird thing happened at the gig

I stood onstage at the Glasgow comedy club, the first of the Christmas comedy nights for me and there were 98% of men in the room. This is fine for me, before comedy I owned a bar in the roughest part of Glasgow, so heaps of men don’t bother me. Men pointing guns in my face was scary, men holding a knife at my throat was frightening but just men waiting for comedy wasn’t bothersome at all.

As soon as I stepped onstage I noticed that all the men were varying ages and looked like a ‘works party’. Turns out they all worked for British Rail. One young guy screamed at the top of his lungs before I could speak

“I would fuck you, doll” he shouted and then sat and cheered in his seat, the older workmen slapped him on the back and some of them banged the table with their fists in delight. He then added “I would rape you”

The audience who weren’t with the railway men stared at me agog!

“You would fuck me? Rape me?” I spoke in a soft voice. “I sat with my dad today, who is recovering from a stroke, he held my hand and told me he doesn’t mind me leaving him to go to work as he loves that I make people laugh and that I am a comedian, he doesn’t know that when I come to work, men shout ‘I would fuck you’ my daughter gave me a hug leaving the house and said ‘mum have a good night’ she doesn’t know that when I walk onstage someone’s badly brought up son is going to sexually harass me, when young girls start work in the railways, they worry that some dirty horrible member of the public, some drunken man will grab at her and shout filthy words at her as she does her job, she doesn’t know that her workmate is the man who sexually harasses me in my job ....does she?”

The whole room went quiet. “Who is the boss who booked the night?” I asked politely. They all pointed to an older man sitting at the corner. “So, you are the leader of these guys? You have a wife? A daughter? Imagine she went to work and faced him, the guy you have nurtured at work and his first words were sexual?”

At this point the whole room was staring at the railway mob, which was now incredibly uncomfortable, the guy shut up and then after a few minutes they started shouting and getting unruly again. I managed to keep their heckles at bay by being smart mouthed and funny, but underneath I kept thinking, what other job is it ok to assume you can sexually harass me? The crowd outside the railway party were responding to everything I said and laughed at them, the acts did a sterling job of maintaining the attention as these dobbers annoyed everyone.

It just made me think why is it in 2010 when a woman walks onstage SOME men think its ok to shout filthy sexual references at her? I know that as a female comic I say sexual stuff to an audience and I know the heckler was shouting stuff he would never do, but not once did they shout filthy stuff at the men. Obviously they wouldn’t shout “I would rape you” to a male comic but they didn’t make any sexual references to them like “Mate, women wouldn’t fuck you” as the male comic spoke about sex, they just interrupted the male comics...or tried to finish their punch lines.

Maybe I am getting sensitive in my old age? Maybe I just don’t expect blokes to still be the way they were in the late 70s, either way it ended up a cracking night and after the show, the shouty men tried to get me to them hug them and chat “No, don’t touch me, I am going out to see if my husband is ready to pick me up, he will be interested to hear about the baldy man who wants to ‘rape’ his wife, now fuck off” I said calmly as I walked out of the room. The nice thing is, other men and the few women who were near the back said “You were awesome and so funny when you brought that sexist bastard down, good on you Janey”....see not all people are cunts!

Janey Godley’s Podcast “Episode 21”

(Please be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)


In the twenty-first episode of Janey Godley’s podcast, Janey Godley and her daughter Ashley Storrie discuss the complicated ramifications of the “Hero” Issue in modern Britain, how X-factor contestants are drongo’s, Janey’s fat lip, Ashley and Janey’s exciting St Andrew’s day feast and celebration, how the snow is effecting the country, Ashley tells us all about a new book she’s discovered and explains why she hates it so much plus special guests Wayne Rooney and Gazza make an appearance and tell all about their new hobby… all this plus Ashley gets emotional and makes a Christmas plea to her listeners.

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

The racist moment and the dog poo

The racist moment and the dog poo

Last week in our car park a few things happened, firstly just to explain we have a communal car park with a gate that never gets locked and it’s in an area full of parking meters in Glasgow’s West End. Every flat owner has a numbered parking space, I know I am starting to bore myself with this wittering….anyway, my point is people who don’t live here park here and usually in my space the minute we go to the shops in the car. I usually lock the gate in the hope that the parking liar will get locked in, but the place is so busy someone is always going out and in and leaves the gate open. Hubby finds an odd angle to park at that isn’t someone’s space till we can get our space back, I don’t bother too much.

But last week someone didn’t just park in our space they straddled their car over TWO parking spaces! It was like Dukes of Hazzard and arrived, parked precariously and leapt out of the window. I was so annoyed at that, hubby merely shrugged and found the odd angle we normally go to when people steal our space.

A few hours later am in my pyjamas and happened to look out of the back window when I saw a wee man swagger towards his badly parked car which was half in half out of our space.

I opened the window and shouted down “Excuse me, I have left a note on your window, please don’t park in my space again”

He looked up waved his hand and screamed “There are no spaces, everyone parks where they want, now shut up lady”

I was stunned, had I been wearing a bra and not jammies and slippers I would have ran down all the stairs and had a big finger pointing argument, as it was my boobs are too big to go in public without a bra so I stayed at the window and shouted back “I have been here 15 years and everyone has a parking number, see the numbers on the ground?” (I pointed) and hung further out of the window and shouted “plus you are in two parking spaces not one”

He waved his hand again and shouted “I don’t speak to women and they don’t shout at me with that tone of voice, now be quiet stupid woman and get in your window” It was at that point I shouted “Don’t make me fucking come down there you insignificant, ignorant racist fuck nut, get out of my car parking space now you knob”

At that point husband pulled me in the window and laughed saying “Stop arguing with that wee Asian man, maybe he means women don’t talk to him in general” he had heard everything.

Husband leaned out of the window and said “mate, move your car, that isn’t your space and you are in our parking space, just move the car”

The wee man shouted “Make your wife better person and stop her speaking in public to men, she swore at me, that’s your fault”
At this point I am pulling on a bra outside in and its all tangled round my back, my boobs are hanging out of it in my hurry to get dressed to go down shove my finger into that wee mans eyeball.

Husband shouted down “She swears because its her culture, its not a bad thing, it’s a cultural thing, its what Scottish people do, now can we move off the swearing and you can move off the parking space”

Husband was being so reasonable as I was becoming more racist by the second, I actually was, it was vile and horrible, like you suddenly realise you like horse porn without knowing it before.

The man was pretending he lived in the block of flats and wasn’t allocated a parking space, turns out he was lying and jumped in his car and drove off.

I went down to the car park bay and locked the gate, as I was walking back muttering angrily to myself like a nutter, two well dressed woman walked into the car park (the gate just stops cars not people) and they had a big black Labrador dog with them. The chatted and laughed, then stood watching as the big dog did a big giant shit on the small patch of grass that constitutes our private back garden. They walked off rubbing the dogs back congratulating it on a job well done and left a big dog shit on the car park/garden grass area.
Well, I grabbed a plastic bag from the bins and picked up the big warm shit and briskly walked behind the two women and the dog. They didn’t live in our housing complex, and even if they did surely letting your dog shit on the only bit of grass in the car park is stupid? Anyway turns out they stayed in the Maryhill Road and as they were opening the tenement door I walked up and said “Excuse me, here is your big dog shit you left in our wee private garden, I am sure you must be wondering what happened to the stuff that came out of your dogs arse, but I have here in a plastic bag” I threw it at them- yes I did and walked off. The woman screamed as the dog shit fell out of the bag and landed at her feet.

As I walked back all angry and justified, I realised I had turned into one of those people who fight in car parks and shout at dog owners, so I give up. People can bring their dogs to shit in our car park, folk can park their cars in the spaces, there are hundreds of people live here and pay for the upkeep like me, am not fighting everyone myself. Though I may buy a pellet gun and sneakily shoot dog owners and lying parking people as I get old and infirm and like peeking behind curtains.

Looking Ahead

So, there I was sitting in the doctors with my dad and waiting for his appointment. He is suffering from some leg pain. It always freaks me out when I see how frail he has become, it makes me think am going to be his age next week. I wanted him to pick me up on his shoulders and run down the street with me, then grab my leg and arm and give me a ‘leg and a wing swing’ with his dark curly hair falling over his Tony Curtis look-a-like face. I need him to pick me up with his strong arms and tell me everything would be ok. But he just sat there in his beige jacket and slip on shoes gripping my hand, looking vulnerable and very old. I looked away from him, trying not to show my pain at seeing him sad.

The doctors has a big panel board with loads of leaflets, I sat and stared at them.

“Are you 50 or over? Do you suffer from a dry vagina?”
“Are 50+ and are you scared of the stairs in case you fall down?”
“Does being over 50 give you bladder and bowel problems?”
“Are you worried about dying?”

So, I am going to be 50 in January and am fully expecting to fall down the stairs and die slowly of a dry vagina as my bowels fall out of my ass.
It seems to me that at 50 years of age, everything starts to fall apart, well if not my assumption, then clearly the NHS assume this. There were no leaflets saying
“Are you 50 or over, do you fancy a sexy party or some vigorous tennis with a younger man?”

Last week I was having late night drinks with McFly- they didn’t warn against that on the NHS worry board!

But now am concerned, I am getting paranoid and worried that I may die soon or quite soon.

Ashley on the other hand is having a good time, we are both off the cigarettes and she has been on her Wii fit and is managing to get super flexible by using the computer fitness regime.

I am loving that we can both now smell how rotten the house is since we stopped smoking and I am happy as hell that I can now taste mozzarella cheese! I never knew it had a taste, I thought it was just a texture.

So, am sorry this blog is late, and do hope you will listen into our podcast every Wednesday - just follow the link on my website www.janeygodley.com

Janey Godley Podcast “Episode 19”

(Pleases be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

In the nineteenth episode of Janey Godley’s podcast, the mother and daughter discuss the Royal wedding and how it will affect the British people, also a story about a bride with a bomb, their recent purchase of a Wii, X Factor gossip, Janey's shopping trip, Ashley's obsession with knitting machines, Janey's big story from the past, tales of their respective diaries, the progress of their smoke free lives, the 'rape bird' gets a call back and Ashley still talks about Janey's bowel movements which makes her mother angry...again! There is also an impromptu advert from their 'sponsor'. We must also thank Kenny Ellaway, Ninia Benjamin and Trudi from Redcar for their MP3’s sharing where and how they listen to Janey Godley’s podcast!

Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

Late night biscuits

Ok shall I bore you with how good I am for not smoking up my own lungs? I don’t think you want to hear that do you? You want to hear about my plans for the future don’t you?

I am planning on going to live on the island of Mustique which is a small private island in the West Indies. I recall back in the 70s and 80s all the naughty Royals (the ones that fucked men and women and took heroin) used to hang out there with rock stars. I recall seeing these debauched women in leopard print bikini’s with big floppy white hats hanging over skinny young boys with an air of ‘smack’ about them, it was so Jackie Collins!
That’s how I want to get old, fucking young guys on an island in the sun. Not sure how husband will take to this situation, but I probably wont do anything like that, I just fancy the image of me on Mustique full of crack and champagne!
I will probably get old by ending up on the island of Rothesay with a woollen cardigan, playing bingo in a furry hat, getting drunk on Crabbies green ginger ale and shouting at young men to get out of my way as I piss my own tights.

Talking about young men- I had a twitter fight with 50cent the US rapper last week! I goaded him about his dirty sexy talk and he replied
“Janey Godley yo take yo big ass to sleep if you don’t like what am saying”

Yes, 50cent is obsessed with my big ass indeed!

Had fun with dad this week, he is getting old and lovely with it, but he now has a tendency to tell Ashley loads of stories I cant censor, like him getting put in jail during his national service for fighting in the barracks, or him getting drunk as a young man and smashing up a local bar…you see I didn’t know these stories, turns out my dad was a fucking crazy violent drunk!
Now Ashley can cope with these tales of madness and debauchery she isn’t her father’s daughter for nowt! She witnessed us getting dragged out of her other granddads house by the police when they found guns that belonged to him years ago.

But she just didn’t know her sweet wee granddad on my side of the family was a nutter on beer years ago and is slightly shocked at his tales of mental madness. My dad has been sober for nearly thirty years now and I am so proud of him.
Anyways my dad called and said “put the bloody news on Foo Man Chu has been released from Tenko” which loosely translated means
Aung San Suu Kyi has been released from house arrest in Rangoon. My dad gets things mixed up.

Meanwhile back in my world, I had a weird day last week I thought you might want to know about. On my way into town, I fell on the road and nearly got hit by a car at the motorway entrance at Charing Cross! I just fell with open palms slapping the concrete full on like a twat and a car didn’t see me and almost got on top of me. I jumped up like a ninja and frightened the poor driver, you should know that the entrance to the M8 is all cross roads and busy as hell at that part of the city.
My heart was pounding and a car nearly ran into the car that nearly hit me as he braked suddenly, anyway a man ran on the road and grabbed me by the hand and got me onto the pavement.

All the traffic moved off like nothing had happened. The bloke made gentle reassuring noises as I checked my handbag, my palms and my knees for injuries. I was just frightened to be honest and he was very patient with me, bless him.

I stood there a bit shocked to say the least and the bloke rubbed my hands for me, he was lovely and being really kind. I stopped fussing and gibbering and finally looked at him to thank him and then realised it was a guy I hated from my bar years ago, he was much older but it definitely was the mad wife beater from Bridgeton!

How do you thank a violent man who kicked his wife’s baby to death inside her for saving YOU from a busy road fall? It was awkward; I just stared at him, pretended I didn’t recognise him and walked off slightly shocked by the whole thing. Wasn’t that odd? Am sure he recognised me and I am sure he knew I knew him, but I was just all over the place!

Strange story…but there you go. Doesn’t really have an end to it, just an odd story for you!

So life is getting better for me, the non smoking is going well, the diet and exercise is coming along nicely and soon I will fit into a leopard print bikini. That’s if I stop eating late night biscuits.

Janey Godley Podcast “Episode 18”

(Pleases be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

In the eighteenth episode of Janey Godley’s Podcast Janey and Ashley discuss drunken antics they have endured, time travel (again), student riots in London, Janey’s couch poo (which isn’t true), 50cent’s relationship with Janey, the countdown to Christmas, their non smoking symptoms, Ashley’s return visit to The Calton, the place of her birth and how that made her feel, How irritating Radio DJ’s who sing along with their music are and The BBC radio 3 Free Thinking festival gets a mention as Janey gives some insight into the show she took part in…. all this plus the age old question about Ashley’s lack of male companionship.

Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

This life of mine

My train journey’s are becoming legendary, on Thursday I caught the train to Manchester as I was off to stay overnight courtesy of BBC so I could get up early Friday and do a slot on Woman’s Hour BBC radio 4.

The train down to Preston was chugging about a bit; I didn’t feel good and soon felt sick. I have never had travel sickness in my life. There is nothing worse than going into a train loo, lifting the lid with a patina of sweat on your torso, a heaving vomit in your throat and staring a shit stained loo. I gagged up as much as I could and staggered back to my seat. What the fuck was wrong with me? Sick? Was I pregnant? I think am pregnant at least six times a year, don’t ask me why, I have never had an unplanned pregnancy but in a past life I must have had seventeen abortions and at least ten babies and that’s blighted my soul forever.
Ok back to real life….I think the engine was dodgy as I felt like I was on a dodgy boat.

Then the train stopped, the engine broke…of course it did, I was on the train wasn’t I?

I had to get off that train, me covered in sweat and vomit heaving luggage and onto another train heading to Manchester. That train was overbooked and packed like trains you see in India with people hanging off the side and sitting on the roof. Ok, am joking not that busy, but there were no seats to be had.

So I had to stand, in a crowded train, feeling sick and with a slow realisation that I wasn’t pregnant because that twisted pain in my womb indicated I was about to have a period. Then the full on womb cramps kicked in. I jerked forward; almost head butting a toddler in a buggy, as I clutched my lower body. Then I felt sick again.

I realised something on that busy train, nobody likes a vomitter and nobody cares about your luggage they couldn’t give a flying fuck if you are harbouring a bomb, just don’t vomit on them. That train crowd basically stood on, kicked and pushed my wee suitcase about as I staggered to and from the loo through the overcrowded carriages.

I felt like dying, but am sure people go through worse than period pains, vomiting and standing for two hours on a crowded train. Things did get worse as four big giant faced Scottish posh students got drunk on three cans of shandy and started swearing loudly and discussing Slipknot.

The swearing I could barely handle but the Slipknot talk had to stop. I tolerated it as best I could.

There were some elderly people near them and small kids behind them, yet big faced Stewart, Alistair or the Alis-star-man as this dick called himself continued swearing in their over privileged accents. There is something horrific in hearing a middle class pony trekking wanker shout
“Fraser, stop trying to commandeer the conversation you awful cunt” ok…say that last sentence aloud but in a very posh accent, imagine you have a big giant head with bushy hair and look like inbred minor Royalty as you say it and you can see why I attacked them.

“Ok, you need to all keep your voices down, there are other people that don’t want to hear your irritating middle class voice trying to sound ‘street’ and if you mention Slipknot one more time, I am going to beat your horsey face to death with my shoe, am sick, I have a period, I am trying to stop smoking and am really tired, I will actually kill you with the handle off my case, are we clear?” I shouted at them.

They all stared at me, one of them piped up “who are you the voice police?”

I leaned over and whispered “Listen up you wee cuntfaced knob, there are kids and elderly people who deserve respect, the fact you think shouting out swear words in that fucked up incestuous accent makes me think you believe you can do what you want and you cant. So shut it”

At that point a big burly older bloke pulled me out of the way and said “shut up using that language like this woman says- get up and give women these seats or I will throw you off the train as it moves”

Everyone went quiet- then the boys stood up sheepishly and we got four elderly ladies into the table of four seats. The Slipknot crew stood at the train doors all contrite and the crushed passengers breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally we got into Manchester in time to get slashed with sideways rain as we all ran through the dark streets, scattering looking for taxis, buses and various lifts away from the train station.


I got into the hotel the BBC had booked; it smelled funny is all I am saying. The shower had two setting burning napalm hot or burning acid hot, so I stood near the scalding water and had my first ‘steaming’ in my life. Not a shower but a ‘steam’ that came of the pounding water, my feet got scorched but I needed to feel clean.

I just ate some sandwiches and got into bed. I needed to be up early to go to the studio and do the Woman’s Hour interview, which was about the BBC3 Free Thinking festival about ‘comedy versus tragedy’ which is happening on Sunday in Newcastle. I of course was defending ‘comedy’ against tragedy and after that journey I was qualified for it.

I couldn’t sleep, I tried…but at 3am till 6am people stood beneath my hotel room in the city centre of Manchester and just SCREAMED for no good reason. I looked out to see if a rape was happening, but no…no rape just students and drunk people who had gotten on buses into the city centre to SCREAM beneath my window…wasn’t that nice of them? The screaming went on and off all night, I expected to get up, put on the news and hear that there was a crazy –on – the – loose knife slasher in Manchester chasing people and making them scream…but no…the only news was the BBC journalists were on strike and I was going to have to cross a picket line to talk inanely about comedy versus tragedy.

After a night of reliving a 50s B movie of screaming, I walked down to BBC Manchester and chatted to the picket official, I explained I was just a contributor to a radio show and that I really supported them. I gave out leaflets for them and wore the badge, then crossed the line and went to talk live on the radio. I felt like the dirty scab that I truly was.

You can listen to the radio clip here: http://janeygodleyclips.podomatic.com

Am now home and feel better, isn’t the world better when you get clean pants and into your own bed? Comedy versus Tragedy? I suffered both!

Janey Godley Podcast “Episode 17”

(Pleases be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

In the seventeenth episode of Janey Godley’s Podcast the mother and daughter duo discuss time travel and how they would utilise it, bullying and how it should be stopped, how fat girls split into two camps at 14, how heroin and alcohol are different and how they are the same, what is and what is not racist, why Obama is getting whiter, how they are both coping without cigarettes, Why Janey had fringed ankles in a dream, Janey’s up and coming gigs for children in need and the woman’s hour and an encounter with three Alsatians in an opticians office… all this plus Ashley reveals her own coping techniques when it came to bullying.


Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

Notes from a broad

Things have been worrying me deeply. I have been looking up the internet and trying to figure out if I have either- eye, bowel, lung or brain cancer, turns out am old and have nothing like that.
I have stopped smoking and so has my wonderful daughter Ashley, the feeling of her supporting me has been awesome. I really feel its time to get fit, lose weight and get off the fags.

I am not going to be one of those women who starve themselves, this about me trying to feel better about myself.

But I have been having strange pains and boils again.

I just get random pains then go search them on websites, years ago when you had random illness’s an old granny or a woman in your street who kept cats and made gooseberry jam would diagnose your illness in the absence of a doctor.

I recall we had a woman just like that in our street, called Maggie who made flowers out of twigs that she shaved at the end into chrysanthemum heads; it was amazing how she did it. Anyway we called her Maggie Make-believe as she told fantastical tales about ships, pirates and past lives. She also made poultices and gave out herbal type medical advice to anyone who would listen. She also drank home made nettle tea way before the bored housewives of Chelsea discovered its healing properties.

There was an old woman called Auntie Jean who lived in Maggie’s bedroom, Auntie Jean was completely ancient, she looked like a skeleton in a crocheted matinee jacket, her white hair haloed in wisps around her angular white face. She whispered and waved when I came to visit her, and smelt of talcum powder and death.

I never wanted to see this woman who really wasn’t my Auntie Jean, even at eleven years old I knew that was a wee woman waiting to die as Maggie Make-believe made chrysanthemum flowers in the living room and dipped them in blue food dye to sell. But my job was to go shopping for Maggie, she loved me and would bring me in, let me make a disfigured flower then usher me into the talcum room of death to sit by Auntie Jean who looked and sounded like a ghost.

The worst thing was when Auntie Jean asked me to sing a wee song for her. I couldn’t sing and was constantly aware that my shitty voice might have been the last thing she heard on earth. So then wee fat Maggie would come into the room and sing so loudly I was worried we would miss Auntie Jean’s last breath, it just didn’t feel right to be belting out a Tom Jones song to a frail dying woman.
Maggie was a gypsy-ish woman, I suspect. She was a fat as she was tall and wore big flowery dresses and spoke funny. She really loved Auntie Jean and took great care of her.

Maggie’s house was immaculately clean and I am sure she looked after Jean better than any medical staff at that time in the 1970s. I have to say I was relieved when Auntie Jean finally died, as I was worried that she would die during my frequent visits and I didn’t want that to happen.

Maggie was serenely accepting of Jean’s death, something I hadn’t witnessed in my family or my life at that time. She didn’t believe in God, she believed in fairies, woodland earth or something to do with nature reclaiming its own and sang a big song when Jean died with the windows open flung wide (to let her spirit go free). She put the radio on full blast and we both danced to a Marc Bolan song as Jean’s dead body lay in the next room, I was freaked out at first but Maggie assured me Jean loved music and happiness. I was either helping a wee hippy celebrate death or I was enabling a mental person…either way it was ok and felt quite good at the time.

I was thinking about Maggie the other day and decided to write this blog about her, for back up info I called my brother and asked him “do you remember Maggie Make-believe who lived in our street?” Well he didn’t and I am starting to think I imagined her! If anyone out there recalls a lovely cuddly wee woman called Maggie who lived in Kenmore Street in the mid 70s and who made wooden flowers and could cure verrucas and made her own cough medicine and pain poultices, do let me know.

Going insane

Been a tense time in the flat, Ashley and I have stopped smoking. I am so proud of her, I have done this before and she hasn’t, so I can see how tense she is. She is answering every question with a screechy voice and her stomping feet about the flat must be making the downstairs neighbours insane. The upside is, every morning she gets up her nose isn’t blocked anymore, and that’s been a problem for years. Every morning she used to stand in the loo and snort, breath and make dragon noises with her nose that drove her mad, trying to breathe through it.
So good positive signs eh?

I am also on a diet and a keep fit regime, which is on hold as I have antibiotics for an ear infection and a suspicious angry weeping boil on the crease of my leg near my ass. It has to be the most inconvenient place for a boil ‘right on the crease’ it hurts when I walk but it will go soon, I cant even see it and need a selection of mirrors and strategically placed spotlights to see the fucker. The doc says it’s a symptom of the infection in my ear, and to expect more boils.

My snoring has stopped which is an awesome side effect of stopping smoking and I am going to be 50 soon, so I need to take care of my body more.

I don’t want to be 50, and still breathing like a ragged out hack and I don’t want to be this fat anymore.

I went running the other night, I haven’t run in 15 years and it was a good feeling to be doing it again. But it will be ages before I can manage a decent run at all.

I spoke to a personal fitness trainer but Ashley was aghast and said “Mum, don’t do that, I see those men out in the West End screaming at fat people to run faster then make them do lunges outside the all night Asian shop, its humiliating, just get dad to shout at you, its cheaper and he knows how to do it good”

I am not sure about a personal trainer, but I do need some help.

Have been worried about my dad lately as well, I haven’t seen him much since I have been travelling and working. I always feel incredibly guilty when I don’t see him; he doesn’t make me feel bad. It’s me who does that to myself. We talk every day on the phone and I go see him when I can, but I just hate the thought that he is sitting in his house alone and sad. Having said that, I am so lucky as my step sister is an awesome daughter to him and she visits often and loves him to bits. Dad is out every single day as well; he meets his pals every day and goes for a natter with them. In actual fact my dad has a better social life than me and Ashley!

It’s a queer time for me, this approaching 50 years old; I am taking stock and yet not slowing down. Ashley and I are off on a wee world tour of LA, Adelaide and hopefully NZ right after my birthday in January.

I love going away with her, she makes me laugh and is such a good mate to hang out with. I wish my mum had been alive when I was 24, though I don’t think I would be accompanying her on a comedy tour. I do miss her so much, especially as I have now outlived her- she died at 47. I suppose this is why me and Ashley are closer, is we are aware how fragile and flippant life can be. Though she never knew my mum, she was born four years after mum died.

By the time I am fifty in January, I will be a stone lighter (at least) my lungs will be clean and healthier and I will look better and feel better than I do right now with a boil on my arse and stuff leaking out of my ears.

Its early here as I write this, I couldn’t sleep as husband was up and down all night for drinks or a piss, he is in his late 40s and still cant sleep right through the night. Shit eh? Pity he wasn’t breast fed, well it aint my job now to fix him, I am fixing me and I hope you will all be here to support me!

Thanks again for listening to me and Ashley’s podcast, you can go to my webpage janeygodley.com and click the link Janey Godley’s podcast and become a subscriber
if it pleases you! Speak soon.

Business and Fun

Was in London for a whole week, was great staying with my best pal Monica, she lives in a beautiful flat in Battersea, her apartment is basically a spa. She has an awesome bathroom and power shower with the BEST products in the world on French polished drawers that zoom in and out silently. I am not really a product junkie but Monica does have amazing stuff and I get to use it….that’s what pals are for. She owns her own PR Company for high end restaurants and I get to eat the most amazing Michelin starred grub and all I can offer her is some blokes swearing about masturbation in a dimly lit comedy club. She hates comedy, she says the majority of comics I have made her sit through are basically dysfunctional humans with personality disorders and mother issues. She hates female comics who go on about cakes, eating too much, being fat, being divorced/single and their lumpen naked bodies to a paying audience. My mate Monica is very opinionated on such matters and don’t even start me on how she reacts to ‘whimsy’.

“If I wanted to see a slide show of tortoises, chatter about cats and a poem about an asymmetric rug, I would have joined a help group for people with brain injuries” she quipped when a famous whimsical comic was onstage before me at Edinburgh.

“That woman needs to fix her hair, who cut her fringe? A meerkat with wooden spoons?” Was what she actually said loudly.

The upside is her job is amazing- one of her clients won Best Restaurant in the World! You can’t beat that can you? No…you simply can’t.

In between gigging, auditioning and smearing expensive cream on myself in London, I had some time out to go see stuff. I chose to go see Gauguin at the Tate Modern Gallery. It wasn’t until I was halfway through the exhibition did I realise what a skanky paedophile Gauguin actually was. He infected small girls with syphilis in Tahiti and beyond, I hate him now and can’t believe I didn’t know he was a bloody kiddie fiddler. The Tate described him as a ‘story teller’ I can only imagine the stories he had to tell and its amazing that if you have a talent the world forgives your paedophilic tendencies…for example do I need mention Polanski one more time?

Anyway for the record I walked out. I didn’t pay and that made me feel slightly better and his work is a bit shit. Am glad Gauguin died with heart problems and suffered horrific pain with syphilis, is all I am saying.
So am back home and am off the cigarettes yet again and have taken up an exercise regime and diet so I can lose some fatty arse flesh and look good for my up coming 50th birthday.

I need to look after myself a bit more, and there is no time like today to start! Ashley has joined me in stopping smoking so am so proud of her.

Sorry the blog was late….do remember to check our podcast episode 16 is out. Search Janey Godley’s podcast if there isn’t a link on your site or go to my webpage janeygodley.com and click there.

Janey Godley Podcast “Episode 16”

(Pleases be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

In the sixteenth episode of Janey Godley’s Podcast the mother and daughter duo discuss Art Exhibits, Ashley’s face being projected across the globe, why gimps sleep under people’s beds, Janey’s handy hints on how to recover lost data on ones computer, Ashley’s obsession with American makeover shows, why parents should take responsibility for their children’s actions, Wayne Rooney’s cancelled birthday bash and why Glee is not a kids show. All this plus the ladies tell you all about their new goal to loose an Olsen twin in weight


Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

Janey Godley Podcast “Episode 15”

(Pleases be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

In the fifteenth episode of Janey Godley’s podcast the ladies get deep, they take on subjects such as bullying and the misuse of the word “gay”, Janey and Ashley get into a spat, discuss where Ashley’s love of Star Trek comes from, why baking in the Godley/ Storrie household can cause chaos across the globe, answer questions from listeners, talk about current affairs (there’s a pun in there) and Janey reveals why she had Ashley. All this plus a listener tells us where he listens to the podcast!

Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

The world’s laziest woman

I am well aware that the blog is late, I was lying in bed last night, thinking “I haven’t written a blog in ages” and then felt guilty and fell asleep tangled like a pretzel, woke up and have a squinty squashed tit. Hope you are all happy now then eh?

Last week was stressful as I had to get millions of forms filled out to apply to the Adelaide Comedy fringe, seriously there must be an easier way to do that. I can’t even imagine how people went to festivals and organised them before the internet was invented, all that posting forms and videos must have been hellish. But I can tell you that I hate E-Forms that decide they can’t take information for no good reason other that being bastardish and that’s a word I just invented for E-Forms that refuse information.

Meanwhile my flat has decided to sabotage me. The shower got angry and premenstrual and stopped providing hot water, the shower then whispered passive/aggressive abuse to the toilet pan and in a fit of pique it dislodged its toilet pan seat and loosened the screws so that when I sat on it – it all fell apart and grabbed my flabby arse flesh and hurt it.

The carpet in the toilet saw the revolt happening and soaked itself with water that we have no knowledge of the source and is now damp and smelly. A small curly insect of no known origin stuck itself to the toilet roll and I touched it with my finger.

The kitchen cupboards heard the commotion, got insecure and wobbled off its hinges. At that exact moment two big boxes of paper work in my wardrobe had nervous exhaustion from all the tax information it held and burst at the seams, then slid out in an avalanche of slippy plastic folders all over my bedroom floor, jamming up the sliding mirror door.

The kitchen got worried it wasn’t getting enough attention and all the big kitchen spoons and bread knives decided to make a pyramid team and jam themselves into the drawer and refused to open. No amount of cajoling would get it reveal its hidden cutlery, they all sat in their in a big bad mood and spoons curled round each other like emotional teenagers screaming ‘don’t touch me’. We have been using chop sticks from the drawer that houses the take away menus and the thing that fits into the food processor.

I stood exasperated and smelly in my hallway and screamed at the house loudly, it answered me back by letting go of the screws that held up the washing pole in the cupboard and disdainfully let my wet towels land on the Hoover. It’s been that kind of week. If houses have a personality then mine reflects ‘Carrie- the possessed years’.

To top it all a pigeon flew in my bedroom window, smacked my head and flew out shitting on the curtains.

I may go live in a tent soon.
On a happy note the podcast is becoming a roaring success gaining thousands of subscriber’s daily- THANK YOU PEOPLE!

Ashley and I went on BBC radio Scotland and spoke about the podcast and had fun chatting with Janice Forsyth on her Comedy Café radio show.

By the way if you have any questions you want to raise about the podcast or anything you want to add just twitter me @JaneyGodley and we will include it in the podcast.

I am off to London next week for work, meetings and fun with my mate Monica. I do miss her.

I will have to win the lottery soon to pay for all things that have gone wrong with my flat, so if you have the winning numbers tweet them as well!

Janey Godley Podcast “Episode 14”

(Pleases be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

In the fourteenth and super long episode of Janey Godley’s Podcast; Mother and Daughter discuss how they think their podcast is being received, they question Janey’s Osmond obsession, what’s under Ashley’s bed, what their greatest fears are, how they work as a mother and daughter duo and what they think of the Miners in Chile. Photographer Vikie B sits in on this podcast taking photos.


Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

This is how I see it

Have you ever read a book that was so bad, you screamed and threw it at a hotel wall so hard that the manager calls your room to complain about the rumpus? I read Harlan Coben’s ‘Play Dead’ and to be fair he does say in the intro that it was his first book and it isn’t that good, I should have fucking listened- it suspended belief so much you almost feel like voting David Cameron back in with a majority and go hunting for unicorns in Bexleyheath.

I hate when I invest time in a book and you just spend the whole time picking fault with the story line and basic facts. Who are you to critique a book? I hear you say – well I wrote a book, albeit my autobiography and even I didn’t suspend belief that much and I’m a bit mental!

Anyway I was in a hotel in Leeds over the weekend, doing comedy and throwing books at walls. I recall when going to hotels was sexy, I remember getting out seductive nightwear for me and husband to have a dirty weekend at a hotel, I revelled in the wee fancy bottles in the bathroom, the big white bed and enjoyed the feeling of being in a new room. Now I hate it. Its not sexy, it’s lonely and boring and the only good thing is having a bath and making someone else clean it.

Nothing stops me loving comedy though; I won’t ever get bored of that.

I do like Leeds though, tell what I don’t like…is this new fashion for patterned opaque tights for young women, three times I stared at young girls legs and thought Leeds had a plague of impetigo – ok, camouflage splattered sheer tights makes me think you have a violent boyfriend who kicks your legs, the lacy ones with chevrons are hideous and look like skin cancer and the flowery ones are just plain weird. Yes I am fashion critic as well as literary today. This from a woman who wears an O’Neill snowboarding coat circa 1994 and a ‘Simon’ top from C&A circa 1987.
Am not vintage funk, am old and that stuff isn’t ironic on me, I look homeless and angry.

My husband must look at me think “what have I done?” I always talk about the imaginary wife he should have married; she would have been called Sally or Sophie with long straight easy to manage blonde hair. She never got stretch marks during her three easy pregnancies (unlike my sick, deathly one) she would cook, wear tight body hugging dresses, do yoga, bake and make jam. They would attend literary festivals, do beachcombing and enjoy walks in the park, she wouldn’t stand on stage talk about heating up her fingers with a Gregg’s steak bake and touching herself in the toilet, she would never throw a book at a wall in a hotel or eat stale biscuits at 3am and suck milk out of tiny plastic containers.

Then again maybe she wouldn’t love husband the way I do and make him laugh by trying to do the splits on the carpet and accidentally head butting the Hoover as I did when I tried that. She wouldn’t wake up at 3am and try to invent a Velcro carpet hair cleaner with rollers and gaffer tape nor would she like his bare arse sticking to her thigh during sleep. So he maybe is better off with me?

Have fun on 10/10/10 – it’s a date we should all remember!

Janey Godley Podcast “Episode 13”

(Pleases be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

In the thirteenth episode of Janey Godley’s Podcast; Janey and Ashley discuss the Conservative conference, online murder, how Gordon Brown is like Rambo, who would win in a fight, how much bush is too much bush, what animals can be crossbred, inappropriate things said on stage, 16th century architecture, pot bellied pigs as pets, The Bolivian leaders bad temper and a special input from a Glasgow ambulance siren. Also please note Paul Boyd’s amazing intro and outro music!

Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

I surprise Ashley into a improvised Family Guy session

via AudioBoo

I don’t know stuff

Husband asked me to stop arguing with him “do you have to correct everything I say or argue with almost everything I say?”

“Yes” I replied “because this is a relationship and not North Korea, if I just agree with everything you say and never argue about a point, it’s a totalitarian regime and not a marriage”

“You can’t just let things go, you always have to correct me or have the last word” he snapped back.

“Yes, because you were wrong” I added, that was the last word and that’s how that works.

This is ironic as I was just doing to him what he does to me constantly.

I have realised something, if I do the stuff to husband in a sarcastic fashion that he does to me, then am not actually pointing out how much it annoys me, I am just confirming his behaviour that its ok to be an annoying dick. So when he constantly goes to great lengths to show me I did something wrong or to make sure that when I made a mistake and he needs it pointed out to me, me doing that to him all the time just makes us go round in circles and snipe at each other.

But he has Aspergers Syndrome and he has an excuse for being the man who has to stop a conversation to point out a small detail of what you are saying is either mis-information or plain wrong, I have no excuse for secretly planning his slow painful death by suffocating him in his sleep.

I won’t do it but I do think about it. I wonder how many women out there are married to a man who has Aspergers Syndrome and almost every day of their lives they concede defeat in a situation, despite being right they have to accept he has to say this shit because if he doesn’t he will get agitated and we have to witness the day being screwed up. The only way forward is to allow him to patronise, snicker and talk down to you about something that is totally wrong, or make him insane by proving you are right.

What do you actually win? The point? No…because he will go to further lengths to explain how he is right and we will be stuck in an anger cycle of frustration and at the end of it the answer is he has Aspergers Syndrome.
The down side for me is I tend to agree with stuff am not agreeing with just to get past this situation. OR we can debate, argue and he can constantly repeat his point, because men with Aspergers Syndrome assume if they just repeat the thing they are saying over and over again, it will win over everyone eventually. (it usually doesn’t but exhausts everyone)

I feel disloyal writing this down as my husband doesn’t mean to hurt me or wants me to be an ‘agreeing person’ it would shock him if he knew I felt like that sometimes, then it would no doubt cause another argument which would be catastrophic as he now wont be sure if I am agreeing to shut him up or agreeing because he is right and we all know how he needs to feel he is right!

The upside is I don’t have Aspergers Syndrome and neither does Ashley and we can have arguments that don’t end in Groundhog Day like tendencies.

So if you have arguing with someone today, think of me.

Oh, did I mention what started the argument? We bought a Behringer mixing desk to make better podcasts and it doesn’t work with Windows 7 and that made him slightly mental and set him off on a big Aspergic trip of jaggy anger. Yeah…if I could meet Mr Behringer today I would punch him in the balls.

Things worry me

This flu bug I had hasn’t totally gone or I have a serious illness that’s gone undiagnosed. I am still tired a lot and feel as though I have just given birth and my body wont heal and am about to give birth again tomorrow. Have you ever felt like a small bumper car has battered off the backs of your legs for hours and then someone possibly a special person with no conscience has cracked a wooden tree branch off the top of your head? Have you ever woke up and felt as though you have been watered boarded all night in your sleep?

Now to top it all off, I have a lump underneath my armpit, it is probably just a boil or something, I don’t know but I better not die of this. To make sure I don’t die I am going to the doctor and that can be a game of mental roulette depending on which doc you get.

We have one doc who says “Mmmm, yes” over the top of you talking about your illness. So you constantly try to find a break in her making ‘MMmmm yes’ noises and slip in your symptoms and you get the feeling she is thinking about something else as you speak, that’s mostly because she is looking over your head and staring at a photo on her wall of Venice.

We have another doc who suggests menthol crystals dissolved in hot water as an answer to any ailment and we have one doctor who is cracking and listens to everything you say. I want him and he is never there. So I end up diagnosing myself on the web and that’s never a good idea.

Other than me moaning about stuff, I had some fun at the Kirkcaldy comedy festival. They put me in a venue called The Abbey, it was closing down the night after my show and by fuck didn’t it show on the staff’s face? They were giving away bits of furniture before my show which doesn’t set an ambient mood; basically it was like a warrant sale and then….comedy!

What they didn’t give away was a cup of tea, they made sure they charged me over and over for a measly cup of tea…that sounds nasty of me to mention and I don’t expect free stuff from any venue but a cup of tea would have been cool especially when they had no other booze to sell and they gave away a couch! Some venues offer the comedian a free drink once or twice but the PUB WITH NO BEER that I was at didn’t bother and I had to wait as they washed cups and boiled a kettle.

The show itself was cracking fun Kirkcaldy is a smashing town with people who love their comedy and I had just about the best show ever in front of them, thanks people of Kirkcaldy! They were nice despite having no beer and booze for the customers!



Ashley has been doing some heavy cleaning in our house; she has done the kitchen units and scrubbed down the hallway doors. I am well impressed as this is the kind of shit she hates, but I asked her and she said ‘yes’ and did it without being angry or secretly plotting my death.

Normally in our house we have to mentally torture, emotionally blackmail and violently attack each other to get the house clean….and there was the answer, just ASK ASHLEY and she would do it without fuss. OR maybe she is doing all the cleaning, then will slowly poison me (maybe that’s my illness?) and sell the house off and she and her dad will run away and live in a beach house without the grumpy fat angry woman who demands clean doors?

Or maybe she is a just helping me?

Meanwhile we are getting new podcast equipment so that the podcast sounds better and clearer and Ashley is super excited at this as she hates the microphones we have.

The podcast is getting a decent following and we made it to number eight in the comedy podcast competition! Soon we will be on Radio Scotland chatting about our podcast experience. You can check the podcast on our website or search ITunes for Janey Godley.

So am off to get my frizzy hair ready for a comedy gig tonight and hopefully I wont feel sick.

Janey Godley Podcast “Episode 12”

(Pleases be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

Mother and Daughter comedy team get to natter and the world gets to hear it on Janey Godley’s podcasts, expect some bawdy language and home truths, as Janey Godley and Ashley Storrie lead you down the roads less taken in their fantastic weekly podcast. Listen as mother and daughter banter, bait and burst with laughter.

In the twelfth episode of Janey Godley’s Podcast Janey and Ashley discuss Scientology and L Ron Hubbard’s true intentions, Ashley’s new religion Batamology, the new Labour leader Ed Miliband, Tanya Lee Davis’s scooter girl campaign, why Mrs Miliband should kick Jan Moir in the lady balls, Janey reads an excerpt from her autobiography and Ashley impersonates Wayne Rooney… all this with new music from Paul Alexander Boyd! (don’t forget to vote for us on votejet.com)


Please do comment on the Janey Godley Podcast At the following link:
http://janeygodley.podomatic.com

The Anniversary Blog

The past month I have been down on my hunkers with a nasty flu, Ashley my daughter got it as well and she was worse than me, it felt like a TB ward in my home. Husband didn’t get it which is good as when he gets flu, it’s like he has had a stroke and paralysis of the torso, but not in his moany mouth.

I almost had to cancel comedy gigs, but instead just went along, stayed away from everyone and shouted random words into a microphone in a funny fashion…I hope.

Husband and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary, we didn’t go away to a swanky hotel as we decided to have the argument at home, we always argue on important dates. I can’t believe we have managed thirty whole years together, I was only 18 when I met him and he was 16 and half years old, then we got married when I was 19 and he was just 18 that month. We were just bloody kids, yet people allowed us to get married, that’s a lack of parental guidance as far as I am concerned.

So here are, running headlong towards middle age, we have both been through our teens, twenties, thirties and forties which makes us sound like brother and sister, and that’s creepy. I don’t think it’s normal to remember when your husband first shaved, or to witness his school leaving party, and a man shouldn’t really recall when his wife had her first period…should they?

Unless they are cousins and its Hicksville USA!

People ask how we have lasted so long and the simple answer is….we openly hate each other quite a lot and that’s healthy and we have angry, bitey sex…but no dogging.

I love my family, talking of family; I went up to see my dad and his latest malapropism made me wet my pants a bit. He actually shouted in the supermarket “Janey, get me some fresh poonanny” People stared, kids giggled and I corrected him by shouting back “yes dad, I will get you some Panini”

On other news the podcast that Ashley and I do has been going great guns, loads of people have subscribed and we are well chuffed with the support its been getting, just check Janey Godley Podcast on ITunes if you want to hear it.

This month I will be doing a big charity event called ‘The Hottest Night of The Year’ where I will be doing a big comedy night. I will be tutoring four prominent business people in Glasgow to do stand up for five minutes. I have to say that the poor people who have volunteered are apoplectic with fear at the prospect of getting up doing comedy.

But they are all coming on well and I am very proud of them and their efforts and it will great on the night. Do come along if you fancy cracking nights out on October 7th at Glasgow Hilton-Tickets are available through kylie.forrest@klevents.co.uk

Being Sick

I hate the flu, or whatever this virus is that I have been harbouring in my veins since last week. Everyone who isn’t a doctor has a theory “It’s a cold, everyone is getting it” is a favourite or “My mate had it last week and her legs went wobbly”

Ok, here is the scoop, I hate being sick and almost had to cancel a gig on Saturday at Highlights Edinburgh. Turns out despite vomiting, sweating and having blurred vision, I can still be funny! I did try to avoid contact with everyone in case I smitted them with my stinky virus.

Twitter has been hysterical this week, by the way everyone in the media moans about Twitter, they say stuff like “is that twatter?” but I love it and even news agencies use it as a major tool. I watched a politician being grilled on BBC and his tweets were used against him in the argument. Twitter is like your conscience talking whilst your mouth isn’t moving and journalists love that.

Anyway I have been following 50 Cent the US rapper and his tweets border on porn, he loves talking about his cock and how he has sex with women. It makes you feel a little bit dirty listening in, and then he puts up pics of his golden guns made into desk lamps which are funny as fuck. It took me three weeks of following 50 Cent to realise he isn’t Nelly the rapper that I actually like, which makes me racist, I don’t know my black rappers from one another. Ashley was horrified at this news and made me watch videos and listen to songs from Nelly and 50 Cent and 50 Cent is rubbish, it really is Nelly I have loved all along.

I can’t go on twitter and take back all the love I gave 50 cent but I can now laugh at his golden ornaments around his home without shame. Meanwhile I am on Nelly’s tail on twitter and he is well sexy!

Maybe in my fast approaching dotage I need to stop lusting after young black rap boys? I cant imagine my mother at this age (she never reached my age she died at 47) anyway I cant imagine my mammy telling me she lusted after a pop star that I loved at the same time, I can see why Ashley is disgusted at me.

So this week I have been sick, racist and dirty all at the same time.

I also have been making big plans for the future. Will tell all when news comes in!

Who does that?

At Highlights comedy club in Edinburgh a stag party proudly announced to me as they walked in the door “We hired a dwarf” and pointed at a little person dressed neatly in a police uniform. Everyone guffawed and the little person or as he liked to call himself ‘Dwarf for hire’ pinched my bottom and wiggled his bum.

The small policeman sat at their table, pinched a few cheeks and left after an hour as he is only hired by the hour and they had only paid for an hour. He was grumpy as well and I don’t mean Dopey, Happy and Bashful weren’t available I mean the small person was actually grumpy, what’s the point in hiring someone who is banking on their ability to be laughed at, being grumpy when laughed at?

Folk are weird eh? I didn’t know you could hire small people in various costumes. At least they have stopped hiring strippers and moved onto people with other talents.

Yesterday I went out to get milk and slipped on a dead pigeon, its guts all squirted out and my hand landed on its squished wing, then I spewed up all over the street outside the Shelter charity shop. It was like a scene from a Quentin Tarantino film, except it wasn’t, it was my life. I couldn’t get the bird blood and guts off my sleeve and I spewed all the way home. I wasn’t fit for a dead bird event as I am already sick.

I have been laid low with a flu virus for over a week and it has made me feel awful. It’s as if I am snorting molten sticky lava through my nasal passages and drawing hot coal dust into my lungs. Am hoping that goes away quite soon.

I Must tell you that the podcast is taking off great guns, we have had heaps more downloads and Ashley and I really have fun doing it, though I end up talking over the top of her constantly! Who knew I did that?

On other news I am doing my one woman show at Kirkcaldy Comedy festival on 30th September and here is the link to get tickets should you want them http://www.kirkcaldycomedyfestival.com/ShowDetails.aspx?ID=14

Who is with me?

I think we should quickly invent a Vuvuzela trumpet for the Pope’s visit to Glasgow, it doesn’t hoot but the screams of small children come out and remind him of the abuse he covered up! Who is with me?

Lets all stand near Bellahouston Park and protest with banners about the homophobic, Nazi, abuse apologist! Who is with me?

That may sound hysterically radical to you reading this but I am disgusted that the Pope will not allow condoms to save lives in African countries that are crippled by AIDS, the Catholic Church refuses financial help to those communities that distribute and use condoms.

I am disgusted that the Pope won’t allow women to become equal in the eyes of his Lord and am totally horrified of the cover up and protection of Church staff that mentally, sexually and physically destroyed children throughout the globe in the name of The Lord.

Jesus must be ashamed of these people if he is the good man everyone says he was/is. Jesus must be up there ‘in heaven’ wearing a tee shirt that says “not in my name you weird evil people” I don’t think anyone can believe a man instigated such horror on mankind, poor Jesus he is the most famous being in existence and look at his PR! Even I have better PR than that.

I hate that these religious pious types got away with such criminal acts.
My wee friend when we were teens was beaten brutally by the nuns who were taking care of her; these despicable women sexually brutalised, battered and mentally tortured my wee pal when she was 14 years old. It took years for her to come to terms with the angst and pain she suffered.

Any organisation that protects its abusers within a system and proclaims protection in the name of The Lord needs a punch in the chops.

Who is with me?

Having said that I have to acknowledge that there were many good priests and nuns in the Catholic Church. They cant all be bad, I knew a cracking wee Nun when I lived in Shettleston, she used to bake for pensioners, and despite me not being a Catholic or having any religion, she taught me to knit and got me loads of books to read. She was a friends Aunt, and she was always kind.

So we can’t blame everyone for everything.

Just me writing stuff

Been a quiet but happy week, I think I might have a mental illness, as I sat on the sofa and chewed the ends of my hair, then got the hair into a knot and ripped it out my head. That’s not normal is it, unless am slowly turning into a cat. Soon I will cough up a fur ball.

Been gigging all week and writing and booking flights, then un-booking them as some comedy promoters and other people can’t make up their minds where am meant to be. So, here is the rule of thumb in comedy, don’t book stuff in advance for cheapness and seat security, leave it till last minute as you wont be going to that destination at all and some travel companies hit you with a cash penalty for changing your mind. Just leave everything till last minute and pay a bit more, cheaper in the long run but fucking annoying. Just thought I would let you know that.

I also need to go buy new high heels, as the ones I had have been donated to the Marquis de Sade museum of torturous pain. I actually threw them over a wall in Soho last week as they hurt my feet so much I just lobbed them in the dark night, am hoping some Tory MP with small feet finds them and uses them to dress up as a hobbled hooker at weekends.

So I now have the hunt for the comfy heels, that’s on my list of things to do.
I don’t like shopping, am not one of those Sex in the City women who squeal and orgasm at the sight of a shopping centre. I don’t take hours poring over ‘sexy heels’ or stroke, kiss and covet them nor do I pay more than £40 for shoes I wear occasionally. I don’t subscribe to the noughties mantra that shoes are better than men. I don’t want a spiky heel in my tenders and have no interest in pretending I do. Nor do I believe a good handbag and dress makes you more interesting, I look old, and quite fat, I don’t look sexy but I get laid well and often and in my life time I have actually beaten cock off with a stick, despite having no dress sense, a thick waistline and mangled hair. Eat that Cosmo girl.

Having said that I do wish I was skinnier as buying clothes that fit my giant tits would be easier.

Husband and I are fast approaching our 30th wedding anniversary and we debated about going away to an expensive cosy cottage by a windswept coastline. We were going to hire this awesome place with a big four poster bed, a log fire with the sea literally whipping at our three hundred year old stone walls, but I decided not to go.

Despite how lovely it looked, I just wanted to stay at home, eat chocolate on the sofa in my pants and not have to wear a bra for three days.

He agreed and we are planning to just have the fight at home, which is what we always do when we go away together. I can sulk better in my own bed.

September is my favourite month, I love the seasons changing and Scotland looks great at this time of year.

I have also started my annual moan about not having a cat. Husband won’t let me have one as I am always away and he says it would be his job to clean up after it. So am planning on having a really big fight which will culminate in divorce talk which the only way our marriage can be saved is if we get a cat.

Am joking – that’s a horrible thing to do to get what you want, see…I may chew my hair but am not really mental at all!

Am off happy high heel hunting!

My feet still hurt

Where am I? I am home in Glasgow, that’s where. I have been in London for a few days doing some interesting stuff and having meetings etc…nothing too exciting but I did get to perform at Heston Blumenthal’s staff party. For the record he is the nicest man on the planet, despite cooking weird and wonderful food and soup made out of rainwater (he didn’t make that though I suggested it with a puddle pudding on the side, it may appear on the menu) he is very cool.

It looked like the worst gig on the planet, a big bunch of folk of all nationalities in a sodden tent with rain battering down and a microphone that didn’t work. The microphone stand was assembled by me out of two cricket stumps and gaffer tape! There was no stage, I stood on a plastic chair and shouted at people, and luckily I was funny. The crowd laughed at some of the info I had gleaned off the staff.

The next night Heston was presented with an award at the GQ man of the Year as best chef, so I was a guest at the party. I basically stalked Jon Hamm (the sexy bloke from Mad Men) I sneaked up behind him and sniffed his back, I gently stroked his shoulders and plucked a stray hair, I shook his hand and stared at him, willing him to take me into a cupboard and have wicked dirty sex, he merely smiled and wondered why a wee Scottish woman stared so much. I scared him. I liked that.

There were billions of celebs but that’s boring as they don’t know me and don’t want to, but Jon Hamm did look disturbed every time we locked eyes (or when I stared at him intently again). I have discovered Jedi power doesn’t exist, I tried to make him love me by staring and sending message via my wee tiny angry eyes, but I need glasses and blurred vision didn’t help.

I learned stuff, trying to get out of a big celeb filled room with Heston Blumenthal is hard. Imagine wearing a Velcro suit and trying to run through a forest made of Velcro trees all standing close together, people don’t like letting go of him. They talk for ages, want photographs and talk about food as their own food splutters out of their own mouths and land on your face, they get excited and giggly. Basically you need to be violent and clear a path with a cricket bat as you batter people aside. But that’s not how celebs behave and that’s why I will never be famous.

Leaving that room was like a famous footballer was running through a private school reunion and the girls had all turned into hookers and wanted a piece of him (that’s if you believe well educated girls become hookers and want to fuck footballers for money).

The other thing I learned is that high heels hurt more than childbirth. That room was full of women in tightly bound spiky high heels, no wonder Victoria Beckham is grumpy she has feet bound like a poor Chinese woman from the turn of the century. My feet hurt so much I cried. I fantasised about wearing flip flops and being naked with Jon Mann over the course of the whole night.

So eventually we left there and went to a club in Soho where my flip flops were waiting for me, now a black low cut dress on a fat woman who is wearing flip flops is not a good look, but still I got papped by the paparazzi outside the club fag in hand chatting to a famous person. (The photo isn’t of me, it’s of the famous man but I look mental) I look like an old cleaner in a fat frock chatting up a rich man. Yuk.

I am home and happy, sitting in my pants watching Mad Men.

Fringe is over

Yes, am on my way home…four weeks of being tired, excited, scared and happy all in one month. Who knew that could happen? Late night drinks up the Loft Bar on the last Sunday was awesome, Phil Jupitus was the DJ and free champagne and canapés on the menu, but diet coke was a chargeable offense, its either free wine, beer or champers or pay for a soft drink!

I watched a very drunk comic try to relay a story into a famous comics face, it was a bitch about me, I stood there until it was done, drunken comic stared at me, stunned I had heard it all then reached over and hugged me, telling me I am just wonderful! That’s Edinburgh and that’s why I pay for diet coke, one day I will be that drunken person screaming a whisper about other people in front of them into a very annoyed famous mans ear.

Then watched a skinny underdressed bleached blonde with a slash of bright red lipstick, sashay about in a tight mini dress looking for famous male comics to ‘befriend’ I asked her if she was in a show and she blurted out ‘Antigone’ I wont laugh at how she pronounced it….anyway she sidled up to Stephen K Amos and batted her big long lashes and giggled, he stared at her and checked out my flyering boy’s tight jeans round his ass. That’s Edinburgh.

I have had a good Edinburgh this year, though it has been blighted with a feeling that people don’t want to see comedy unless they have seen the person on the telly. Even if the didn’t like them on the telly, just to see them in the flesh and pay the price was worth it. Everyone had an opinion on the McEwan Hall which seats over a thousand people, I too had a gripe about that but ultimately it’s down to the paying public, if they just want to see big shows from the telly then you have to accept their choice.

I watched some friends play to very small houses and as the fringe grows beyond the fringe I fear small interesting shows will just end up not coming back, which will take the very soul out of the fringe. It soon will be just big names in big venues and you know what? That’s what the public in general want, so therefore the venues must supply the demand.

I went to see Tara Flynn’s show which was awesome and funny as hell. I never got to see Joe Powers the man who talks to dead people, coz I couldn’t get my hands on a gun during Edinburgh, I wanted to shoot the fake fuck and see if he could annoy us from beyond the grave. The fake psychic got some damning reviews and some awful comments from fellow comics who can smell a shitty stick from 50 years away.

That said it was a good old time but to be honest am glad to be going home.

Part Two- Am home…

Went to the Pleasance chatted with Anthony who owns the venue, he is a lovely man and we had a good catch up. Doing my last show is always emotional, you get exhausted by the past month, all the worrying, the stresses, the many late night gigs, the ticket checking, the flyering issues, making sure the posters are up, making sure my stars are all over them, then you do that last show and you feel….elated and happy its done.

I put down the microphone, thanked the audience, hugged the techy staff, kissed the security man, patted the dog that sits outside and ran to my car.

Husband was outside the gig with Ashley in the loaded up car, it was crammed with all out stuff; husband moaned “why do you both need all this shit?”

“Shut up, you got me put in jail for one night, I don’t forget what you put me through with your gun totting family” I snapped.

“Are you ever going to let that go, it was 15 years ago moany face” He laughed.

“Mum, Dad shut up, and mum you cant counter every argument with dad with the fact they found guns in his dads house years ago, both of you deal with the argument today, the issue now, not something from decades ago, now, lets all cheer we are leaving Edinburgh, coz I have been coming here since I was eight years old and you BOTH made me do that for years, so now I am harking back to the past coz you are both irritating me, can we leave this fucking city and get me home please” Ashley snapped.
We all laughed, one crazy dysfunctional family in car packed with a guitar (Ashley plays it), clothes, unused giant posters of my face and a case full of dirty underwear heading for the M8 and home to Glasgow.

I adore that my husband who doesn’t particularly enjoy being around comedians or comedy for that matter- truly supports me totally. He has never once said “this isn’t a career choice, you could make more money elsewhere” he has always supported me fully. He never came to Edinburgh as he dislikes new places, he has Aspergers syndrome and new houses make him unsettled, he finds it difficult to deal with incompetent people who cant print a ticket or work a sound system, he cannot stand the sycophantic nature of comedy and because of his syndrome if a comedian asks his opinion he usually says “you weren’t funny, but I like your new jacket” Aspergers people don’t grasp tact very well. But if they say they like you then they really do, that’s what I like about him!

So my first day home was awesome, I slept for hours like a freed hostage victim, I showered like I had been assaulted in an alley and ate like a Alsatian dog that had been locked in a garage for two weeks.

That was the Edinburgh Fringe 2010.

Sorry am late but I have an excuse!

Am STILL at the Edinburgh Fringe…its seems like ten weeks instead of four let me tell you. I have bonded with the white Scottie Dog called Hector who lives in our cobbled stoned mews area, he has a floppy ear and wee black button eyes and chases squirrels and loves cuddles. I am addicted to the dishwasher in the three floored mews we are staying in and I adore the juicer.

The shows have been awesome, I have bitched and whined about the McEwan Hall which seats over 1,000 folk sucking in all the punters but the basic truth is, people just want to go see people they have seen on the telly…I am not on the telly, so ergo people have no real interest in me, except the people who are fans of my comedy.

Though the numbers have been fabulous, I am aware that the glut of footfall has been avoiding the small shows, the interesting theatre and the fantastic musical shows. It kind of rings like a death knell for the fringe if the punters just want to go see people off the telly…that’s not a fringe that’s a TV comedy festival!

Ok, done moaning about that.

I am knackered just being here and it feels like some alternative life I am living, though getting to see loads of cracking comedy pals has been awesome, and making new pals is worthwhile.

Ashley is bored with me tweeting or reading in her company, she has gotten into an attention seeking vibe, much like when she was five years old. “Put that book down and talk to me Mum” she whinges…we have been together too long here in Edinburgh. She needs her own life back; she needs her room, her computer and her own pals.

My mate Monica calls and we can’t have a decent natter coz I am either in a show or going to a show, coming from a show or asleep.

The people coming to the show and chatting afterwards have been wickedly nice, how cool to meet people who like what you do?

Twitter, Facebook and the internet in general have changed the way comedians interact with their audiences, they now can let you know they are coming, they can arrange a gab afterwards and all those people you wished happy birthday to on the internet, or commented on their baby photos can now contact you and we get to know each other more. That’s awesome.

When I first came to the fringe in 1995 things were different, there were no 60 foot posters or faces on a taxi. A young long haired Ed Byrne was cutting a career out, a bouncy manic Brendan Burns was screaming at people in Late and Live, Johnny Vegas was crippled with nerves driving through with me from Glasgow and comedy was dependant not on telly appearances, or internet campaigns or adverts but on people making choices about what they fancied. Mobile phones weren’t that common,
how they hell did we survive? How did we know a gig was running late and who was next on, how did we contact venues about ticket sales, promoters tickets without email and text? No one held up a phone and took pictures of Ross Noble crowd surfing and let millions view it instantly on the web! It was the old days when word of mouth was king.

It was the days when people used watches to tell the time, but progress is an amazing thing people and it helps with comedy ticket sales.

Am looking forward to getting this weekend out of the way and getting back to normality, sleeping in my own bed and not checking stars on my reviews, there is a life outside Edinburgh and apparently it is dominated by a woman who threw a cat in a wheelie bin…that’s all the news I know…has anything else happened in the world since I have been here? No…didn’t think so.

Come see my last weekend at Pleasance Dome 7pm nightly.