Swearing

Picture the scene, I walk out of a gig at Edinburgh fringe, it's raining and am laughing and saying goodbye to some folks and I get straight into a cab as someone shouts "Loved the show Janey" and the taxi driver asks "Are you a comedian?" I reply quite proudly "Yes I am" and I forgot in my elation that I usually don't speak about comedy in taxi's as I know what he is going to say next...I forgot and before I could think another thing I heard him say the inevitable "Do you swear?".
 

I have my stock answer "I don't swear anymore than the male comics or less than the local priest".
 

That usually makes them look into their mirror and then I hear him say "Ah...your one of those feminist women" as if the only way I could possibly answer them back is because I have a political agenda and some buckwheat sandals that I wear as I breastfeed foundlings on my lactating pendulous braless titties.
 

"No more a feminist than most of the male comics but usually more than the local priest, have you ever asked a male comic if he swears?" I add and hopefully this will end this painfully awkward corner we have talked our way into.
 

I just pull on my headphones (always great to get out of these situations) and nod to music as he mouths some shit I cannot hear but his eyebrows look knotted and angry.
 

I don't know why 'swearing' is something that female's have to be told not to do. Is it really that bad? Has anyone ever really hated Kevin Bridges, Frankie Boyle and Billy Connolly's language onstage to the point where they discuss with a pursed mouth?
 

Dara O'Briain says the word 'Feck' live on television, we all know it means 'fuck' does Dara get belittled for being an uneducated ill-informed swearer? No, he doesn't he is one of Ireland's most intelligent funny men.
 

So it is a class issue? I have seen very well spoken middle class English women swear in comedy and somehow it is more acceptable, especially if said by 'apparent slip of the tongue' or by the medium of a 'puppet' (see Nina Conti's filthy mouthed Monkey).
 

Does my swearing sound worse because I am a working class Scottish woman?
 

If I was a Oxbridge graduate swearing onstage would it be seen as 'urban and gritty' like a hipster getting angry at a flat tyre but in my accent does it sound really harsh and filthy and all you hear is a slovenly washer woman taking us back years with her filthy language?
 

Recently I attended a "Vote Yes" event for Scottish creative's.
 

All lovely people, authors, musicians in a Glasgow basement.
 

The male author swore, the musician had some choice language in his songs and not a word was spoken, but the female (who spouts the values a gender equality independence group) got up to introduce me she told the audience...
 

"Next up is comedian Janey Godley, she might use offensive language so if you are easily offended, please bear this in mind".


I walked to the stage so angry. I know she didn't do it to hurt me but despite being part of a gender equality group she was hardwired to apologise for a woman before that woman spoke. She never apologised after the men onstage swore. I never got that chance. The audience were told I was probably going to be offensive.
 

One day this will end.
 

So thanks for reading, if you want follow me on twitter @JaneyGodley for updates and daily shenanigans.
 

Are we Humans Addiction and Attitudes ?

It was a busy day Friday 30th January, I called my 82 year old dad, like I do every day, there was no answer on his landline and he lives alone.


My heart clenched, I called his mobile trying hard to stem images of him lying at the bottom of his stairs in a crumpled heap, he quickly answered and I could tell he was in a busy 'outside' place.


He informed me he had got in a cab to go get a 'much needed haircut' his words. He is practically bald but let's not get into silly details, he basically escaped into the freezing cold with a thin jacket and a walking stick, the stick was tokenism (he uses it as a street pigeon sword not as a walking aid).


I told him to stay put, I was coming to meet him, I chose my words, for saying "I am coming to get you" makes him annoyed. I can see why, he fights for his basic independence and I get that, imagine you had a sign up at your door that said "DO NOT GO OUT ALONE" and you didn't have any other illness other than being a bit wobbly and old? You would fight that eh?


Anyway I jump out of the car at the shopping area, the sleety rain slashing me sideways, I leapt over flooded pavements and got into the barbers. It's a proper wee old Glasgow mans barber and there were four old blokes cutting four older blokes hair in a small room. I rushed in and quickly scanned the faces...no dad.


"Excuse me, was there a wee man just in, probably wearing a waistcoat, tie and suit combo?" I blurted out.


My mouth was dry, where was my dad? Was he lying in a street face down in a puddle surrounded by pecking pigeons bleeding from a head wound as the sleet landed on his dead body?


The barber closest to me smiled and said "Was that a wee dapper bloke with a lovely smile and ..."
I shouted interrupting him "My dad, where is he, was he here? Shut up with the long winded story..wee man in a waistcoat?" My frantic eyes must have been swinging wildly round the room.


The old men all look scared, I wasn't up for barber chit chat....where is my dad? The bloke behind him wielding a comb over a pensioners head quickly said "Your dad was here, just left two minutes ago."


I ran as I banged the door behind me and spotted the MacDonald's beside the barbers and ran full pelt nearly knocking people over at the bus stop. Where was my dad, was he lying in the car park? Was that family of foxes that reside there eating him? Then through the big glass windows I spot him, sitting banging his mobile off the table with a wee red face and very shiny head. Through the doors I go.


"Dad" I shout and he looked up.


"This mobile is rubbish, I tried calling you am ready to batter it to bits" he yelled as he ripped the phone off his neck and shoved it at me.


"Dad, why didn't you call me and I would have taken you to the barbers, its freezing out there and am worried" I blurt out.


He looked at me with his twinkly blue eyes that belie his 82 years and said "Janey, I once ripped up the cinema seats when a Bill Haley film came to the cinema in Shettleston so I could make room for the women dancing, I drove a tank in National Service and spent my childhood hiding from German bombs, if I want to go for a haircut nobody will stop me." He is right.


I am glad he still has that spiky streak inside him, he recently recovered from a stroke and I suppose I should be grateful for his determined grit, as I am my father's daughter. As we drove dad home, he pressed the button to play the radio and by utter coincidence my comedy monologue was on BBC Scotland. Dad sat quietly chuckling away at my story about an elderly woman in Glasgow "you are funny you know" he said.


The day got better, my daughter Ashley could finally announce that her radio sitcom pilot has been commissioned and it was her one year anniversary of doing stand-up comedy as well. Both of us were onstage at night on different parts of the city.


I was at Glasgow Jongleurs and the crowd were amazing, I had a great night. I love the home crowd and after the show, I stood outside waiting on my lift home. It was still very cold and the icy rain slashed at my face.


The people outside the club were gathering as the show was over, at that moment a small skinny guy in a thin jacket wandered over to me. He stood shivering and whispered something in my direction.


"Excuse me, I can't hear you come closer" I said. He walked nearer, he had sores round his mouth and his eyes were dead looking. "Can you spare me some change, sorry for asking" he said.


Now, I don't know nor care for anyone else's policy on the street beggars but I always ask them their name and offer a few coins, as it's my money and I don't care if they spend it on drugs, as I used to own a pub and never told alcoholics how to spend their cash and in Scotland booze kills more people than drugs.


"My name is Davey" he mumbled and thanked me for the cash. He then moved very discreetly onto the crowd coming out of the comedy gig and a few guys shouted and pushed him away being really abusive. "Ya Junkie, beat it" they yelled.


Well, my hackles went up. I stepped into the crowd and grabbed Davey by the arm and put him behind me and shouted "Guys, really? This is how you treat people? You don't have to give him money but you don't have to give him abuse, he is someone's son, his mistakes are his business but don't abuse him."


The wee crowd immediately noticed the wee woman in the big parka was the woman just off stage and they all wanted to tell me how much they enjoyed the show. They forgot about Davey and drunkenly wanted to shake my hand and be nice which is cool but I was still annoyed at the abuse he got.


"Thanks for enjoying my comedy but please don't abuse this wee guy or any other homeless or person begging on our streets, please be a wee but humane eh?" I asked them. To their defence they apologised and Davey slopped off into the rain, shivering. My heart was like a brick in my chest, I know you can't fix people and you can't cure the begging and drugs etc, but you can be polite and humane can't you? My brother and my cousin both died as a result of drug addiction and half my relatives were alcoholics, it affect us all.


I got my lift home and wondered how Ashley got on at her gig four streets away. It was a gig that had a predominately a gay audience.


She came home 40 minutes later and told me she had a brilliant time onstage, she was glowing as she told me all about it and was buzzing, I know that feeling and I smiled as she recounted the show. Then she added "Mum, a wee guy in a thin jacket wandered round and was begging outside the gig and he was so cold looking and had sores on his face, I gave him some change and the gay guys from the audience were so kind to him as well, one of them gave him gloves and a scarf."


You see humanity exists in Glasgow, they may not be the same as us, they may have different life choices but the homeless and the beggars on the street don't deserve to be abused, you can ignore them, you can step over them, you can get concerned if they are Eastern European begging gangs...I get that... but please don't abuse them. When famous people die of drug addiction, the world views it so differently and there are outpourings of 'wasted life' well, they are ALL wasted lives then. It takes us all to make a wee difference.


So thanks for reading, if you want follow me on twitter @JaneyGodley for updates and daily shenanigans.

Janey Godley’s Podcast Episode 176

(Please be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

In episode 176 of Janey Godley's podcast with Ashley Storrie the comedy mother and daughter duo get into this week's news stories. The Lost Prophet's paedophile, Scotland's independence and Ashley meets a Muslim who is in the EDL.


Janey talks about Nigella Lawson and Ashley discusses sectarianism, candle shopping and a child who kept asking 'WHY?' They both give us their stories about 'couch accidents'.


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.


Janey Godley Podcast at: Episode 176


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STAYING MUM UNTIL DAUGHTER FLIES THE NEST

"MUM, can you get my washing out of the machine and hang it up?" my daughter Ashley asked at the weekend. She is 27 years old and still lives at home as a self employed comic and writer. It's good fun.

 

My husband and I had made all sorts of plans for our 50s. We love travelling. Toronto, the Netherlands and Los Angeles are just some of the destinations we have visited in the past with my comedy act, but we were going to do so much more.

 

These plans have been scuppered, as Ashley doesn't like her dad going with me. He is her full-time father and she is not about to let that go.

 

Underneath her pretend adult facade is a wee girl who likes having her daddy around.

 

I inevitably end up going on tour alone, husband stays at home and Ashley commandeers all his attention.

 

Ashley lives a charmed existence - one that requires no real decision- making, except which shoes to wear or what kind of shellfish to have for tea.

 

I am not underestimating her abilities or work ethic.

 

If only I had had an easy life when I was 27 years old.

 

My mother died when I was 21 and I accepted her death and assumed I didn't need a mammy anymore. In my head, I was all the woman I was ever going to be. How wrong I was, and still am. I was just a child playing at being an adult.

 

I was already six years married at 27 years old. I was a mother, managed a bar and a home. I was just a kid, yet I dealt with wee drunk Glaswegians who spent ages trying to figure out if you liked King Billy or the Pope.

 

Sometimes they challenged you to a boxing match or sex - it depended on the day, really. You learned skills you never knew you had, like speaking Spanish to confuse them or being handy with a bleach spray.

 

Life in the bar was hard work, especially in Glasgow's tough East End. I am sure Ashley would have coped admirably, though I am glad she didn't have to go through such experiences.

 

We left the bar when she was eight, and by then she had seen enough scary stuff to ensure a few years in therapy when she reaches her thirties.

 

Her CV is mainly performing in comedy. She had a "one-woman" show at the age of 13 on the Edinburgh Fringe and went on to help run a comedy club in Glasgow at the age of 15.

 

We both had very different job experiences in our youth. I did work she would hate and she entered a career that I would never have dared to step into or had the confidence to carry off at that age.

 

But, despite her admirable self-assurance, she is not leaving home.

 

I encourage her to stay within my wee nest. Having a child at home, despite her full formed adulthood, means I get to be a mother for all time, no date-expiration on my parenting skills.

 

I am needed, I am wanted and my child is nurtured and loved. Empty-nest syndrome will not be added to the litany of my mid-life crisis problems.

 

I still check on her as she sleeps, I ensure she has her breakfast and I grump contentedly as I fold up her freshly laundered clothes and lay them on her bed.

 

I suppose I will have to adjust quickly when she starts bringing guys over to stay. Maybe that will be the time when her bags are packed and she learns how to pay a phone bill.

 

Then husband and I will finally get jiggy on the sofa at teatime, run naked through the house and play Jackson Browne on full blast without the Iphone plug being ripped out of the wall.

 

I am looking forward to that golden age, but who will show me how to download music without crashing the PC, cook bread that doesn't taste like a raffia mat or apply eye-shadow that won't make me look like a victim of domestic abuse?

 

I suppose I have to conclude that there are skills I still need to learn - and letting go of my child is only one of them.

 

Maybe next year? Meanwhile her Star Trek fanaticism drives me nuts. 

 

I AM sick to death of Star Trek episodes. My husband and Ashley, love everything sci-fi and I grit my teeth through every show.

 

To me, every episode has the same format.

 

Each week, the crew let some sexually alluring woman on to the ship and the visitor turns everyone into a tree and then they finally expose her as a Cardassian death lord and, by the end of the show, they all agree to never let that happen again. Of course, the next week they invite yet another scantily clad woman aboard!

 

Ashley screamed: "Mum, there has never been an episode where people get turned into a tree! I checked, so shut up!"

 

To make matters worse, Ashley wants to buy her dad the entire box set of Star Trek: Voyager.

 

I am going to go live under the sea.

 

So thanks for reading, if you want follow me on twitter @JaneyGodley for updates.

Abuse and Threats Online

Seems to be a theme this week of attacking comedians, what with Scottish comic Susan Calman getting bullied for her non- opinion on Independence and Reggie Hunter getting booted for being himself at a corporate gig- the papers raged on with accusations of 'fees to be returned' in Reggie's case and 'Bullying from the Nats' in Susan's case.

 

Either way it was a bad week for comedy, especially as the Scotsman and various other newspapers emblazoned their headline "death threats for comedian" never since Salman Rushdie have we seen adverse reaction to an art form. Though I still don't know who threatened death to Susan as it hasn't in itself been publicised (maybe due to a police investigation) and can only imagine the horror that it rang- having been threatened online two years ago myself for talking about Old Firm Sectarianism....it's scary stuff.

 

I took screen shots and reported the website and death threaten-ers to the police and made an official complaint. So what is this special new Scottish force  Police Scotland doing about this onslaught of abuse towards female comics?

 

In my case they took all the details and assured me to watch out for more abuse, but they basically told me not to be contentious on Twitter....I explained "I am a comedian, I am allowed to make jokes and contentious remarks without being threatened by death" But I was happy I reported it and made sure the cops were aware of the people who being abusive for future reference.

 

So many politicians came out to support Susan and quite rightly so, but it's just lip service....we want to be protected for our freedom of speech without being threatened by death....what's next a Scolds Bridle for 'cheeky women'?

 

I would like a Police Scotland and Chief Constable Stephen House to have a full investigation into the death threats given to comedians and am appalled that Susan had to turn to a newspaper to highlight this issue as clearly the cops are so far doing nothing.

 

Having been a victim of online bullying and name calling, and threats of 'getting my house burnt down' I know how this feels and the police did reassure me they would help me, but by telling me 'not to be contentious' on twitter? what the hell is that about? I will quite happily face criticism and tell me you hate my comedy, explain how much you think am a fat ugly woman...fair play...but to THREATEN ME WITH DEATH? It's not on.

 

On a side issue I speak about this situation in my recent show, how famous people get the press to highlight their online abuse and how the cops will kick doors in at 6am if some Olympiad is abused, but if you are wee Betty McDade from a housing scheme and someone is threatening you on Facebook....you are on your own. I know this to be true as some of my Facebook followers have testified to such....there shouldn't be a law for one and separate law for others. This isn't Victorian times, where the Middle classes are protected and the lower classes are left to defend themselves. All online abuse should be treated seriously, whether you are an Olympic swimmer, a comedian or someone who is living on benefits trying to use social networking sites.

 

I want the death threats to stop and the only way they will stop is if we constantly report them, screen shot the tweets and facebook threats and remember there is always a way to trace them. Everything every written on the web can be traced. Stay safe and lets all work together to stop death threats online.

 

 

So thanks for reading, if you want follow me on twitter @JaneyGodley for updates.

 

 

Janey Godley’s Podcast Episode 118

(Please be aware that this Podcast Contains strong language)

 

In episode 118 of Janey Godley’s Podcast, Ashley is joined by Ste Callaghan, stand comedian and winner of the best new Scottish Comedian award. The pair discusses independence, Tony Blair, George Galloway’s new popcorn mission, back to the future and their comedy show.

 

Janey joins in with a little piece from Toronto, talking about her experience on the street with a dog, her views on Donald Trump’s golf course in Aberdeen and her trip to a celebrity ball in Canada.  

 

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.

 

Janey Godley Podcast at: Episode 118

 

If you would like to support our podcast then please do so by clicking onto Our Donate Page and donate via PayPal.

 

Check out some fashion tips from Fetuccini Spencer

 

Check out The saga of Tim and Freya

 

You can check out all our videos on YouTube

 

Order “Handstands in the Dark” Paper Back or in EBook

 

Please rate us or leave a comment on PodOmatic, ITunes or Facebook

 

You can find all the info regarding Janey’s live shows by just clicking Gigs!

 

I hope you enjoy our Podcasts it would be great if you would pass it on, thanks Janey Godley & Ashley Storrie.