Where do I begin?

Wee baby Julia is now three years old and is my great niece, she is small, blonde and the perfect Aryan child that Hitler would have shoved on posters of the propaganda type. Her giant blue eyes that peep at you under the white blonde hair are disarming; she is the wee sister of Abi (famous in her mouse killing video on my YouTube site) and just gorgeous.

Luckily Julia hasn’t started killing small mammals; her favourite thing at my house is to pull down the collection of miniature hedgehogs in my hall and make them all kiss each other on my wooden table. A lot of kissing happens and American type chatter, it’s funny that small Scottish kids use a Californian voice when they do ‘play’.

American TV has such an effect on children, that annoying nasal voice that inhabit all the cartoon characters eventually come flooding out of the mouths of wee Glaswegians.

She asked me to switch on kids TV which I did and I was agog at the adverts for Barbie’s who were wearing what can only be described as prostitute outfits. Crotch skimming glittery skirts, high pony tails and tops that revealed pert plastic boobies, all for wee girls to dress and undress, suddenly the kissing hedgehogs seemed positively dull.

It made me think of the dolls I got as a child. We had a Tressy doll, which was a teenage skinny doll that when you pressed her tummy button her hair grew long out of the crown of her head. Long hair/short hair…that was Tressy’s thing and I managed to get ALL her hair pulled out and cut it off at the roots, my big sister Ann nearly battered me to death over that incident.

I wasn’t good with dolls, I remember one Christmas morning waking up to a stiff Spanish doll in the corner of the room, it was about 3 foot tall, as tall as me. It had a big bee hive hair do and dirty red slashed lips, it resembled a small Amy Winehouse. I thought it was a dead toddler standing beside the electric fire and screamed myself sick till they took it away. Who gives their child a dead toddler for Christmas?

So anyway I had fun with wee Julia, she makes me smile and she has a high pitched squeal of laughter when you chase her with a spatula round the kitchen. She squashed Jaffa cakes into small paper cake cases and then proceeded to hand them out for us to eat. They were all sticky and yucky looking, but she declared “I made these myself” which I loved.
Any girl who can learn about baking cheats so young is a friend of mine, good on you Julia, baking is for nutters, just buy a cake.

So tomorrow I have to get my hair cut and coloured, I have to buy gifts and get the house Christmas ready. That doesn’t mean anything, it just means that I buy a scented cinnamon candle and burn it.

I am working the majority of December and looking forward to having a wee holiday in January. I may got back to LA in January, who knows?

Have A Merry Christmas & A Happy New Year

Best Wishes from Janey Godley, her family and the team!

Is it December?

Yes, it truly is December. I know this because everywhere I look is fake snow, bright baubles and scented shopping malls. I do love it though.

Husband isn’t a big Christmas fan, he has made it clear the tree can go up, but it mustn’t get in the way of the flat screen telly and it better not flash too much, as that exacerbates his Aspergers Syndrome.

I told him that him talking about the happy Christmas tree exacerbates my hormones and makes me feel like taking him straight to punchy town, he told me such a place didn’t exist.
I said it was a metaphor – he said he didn’t like metaphors – I said “shut up or I will poke your eye with a Christmas bauble” it went on for ages, suffice to say I won and he dragged the tree from the cupboard with an annoyed face.

Every year we go through the same crap. I don’t want a gift as I don’t need anything and I can buy stuff myself. He doesn’t want anything as we can never get him what he wants (his own house with padded corners, a butler and a Lazy-ee Boy seat) so we compromise by just buying Ashley stuff.

She loves it and has made a list of what she wants. Husband who is great at searching online for cheap deals, ends up buying two things and getting loads of stuff thrown in for free, that’s Aspergers and too much time on your hands as far as I am concerned.
He doesn’t have the ‘interesting’ Aspergers Syndrome, just the annoying type.

Why can’t he just count cocktail sticks thrown on the floor? That’s a great party trick, yet his Aspergers Syndrome doesn’t accommodate such tomfoolery, he is just good at repeating verbatim all the stuff I say in anger.

He would make a great actor if he could just tell his face which emotion his words were displaying.
Anyway I must stop saying things about him; he will find out and smile but shout fiercely, which is disconcerting to say the least.
I have just realised – that’s why he doesn’t get on well with cats! They also smile and bite you at the same time, or wag their tails and purr.
Cats are Aspergic animals and don’t mix well with other Aspergic sufferers.
The past week has been busy as hell; I gigged at Edinburgh Stand and got the most awesome review…

"The queen of Scottish comedy...A bold, take-no-prisoners type of comic... Comic gold. Brilliantly painted scenarios, uproarious and touching in equal measure.... Intelligent and skilful comedy of the highest order."
(Edinburgh Evening News, 2nd December 2009)

That is a lovely thing and cheers me up no end. It nice when you get good things said about you, especially when you work hard!

I wrote a comedy article for a newspaper this week as well and did warm up at BBC which can be tiring and long, yet fulfilling.

Am off out today to get myself a pair of leather gloves, as this is what I am buying myself for Christmas.