Extreme(ly Easy) Love

I’ve been told that over the three years I’ve been doing stand-up I have found my voice and my style and sharpness has evolved dramatically, which is incredibly touching, if bullshit. However, one thing that no-one could really claim has changed is the amount of dick-jokes in my act. At first it could easily seem to suggest I’m desperately in need of a good woman and a lay, however I feel that the fact I have made such a comical thing of my lack of a girlie means I’ve accepted it isn’t my strong point and no-longer really care as much. Which is true, life’s pretty good at the moment and I’m sure one day one fine sex-pot (that’s what they like to be called, right?) will come into my life and make it even harder for me to convincingly portray myself as jaded.

A question I find myself being asked a lot which really irritates me is “Would you date someone with your disability?”. In fact, I do a routine about this jokingly portraying myself as ‘really deep’ for arguing I would if we had a lot in common but wouldn’t date her just because her disability made it somehow easier. However, I then spoil that deep touching impression by suggesting I’ve seen a girl with my disability and “massive tits” which is enough to make her ‘the one’. Now this is intended as humour, I’m not *quite* this low but the point I’m trying to make is, much like wearing glasses, a disability is a wonderful reference point to strike up a rapport with a hotty with, but apart from that it should mean nothing!

If I were to see a girl I fancy with a similar condition I will of course use my disability to get my ‘foot in the door’, but that’s different from genuinely feeling it’s a number-one reason to fall in love over.

“A girl with your disability will understand you better”, I’m often told… Have these people forgotten what a massive egotist I am?? I don’t want to be ‘understood’, I want to be f**kin’ WORSHIPPED (ok, I’ll settle for loved!). Plus, I thought a slight air of mystery was meant to be a healthy thing in terms of finding love. Isn’t finding someone who understands you setting your targets rather low??

Institutionalisation is something that often scares me. For instance, do you remember me puzzling over the amount of Facebook friendship requests I get from totally random people who went to my school who seem to just want to enquire about my “boyfriend”? Apart from conversing in manners that suggests that their impairment isn’t just physical, I have noticed another trend: marriage. A startlingly high number of these people seem to be insistent on committing their whole life to someone pretty much as soon as they turn eighteen. (Perhaps they think the fact that I’m not wearing a ring is definite proof that I am gay!)

Now, possibly I’m being far too judgemental here and these are people who have found something very special surprisingly early and I should feel tremendously happy for them. Still, I can’t help but wonder if there is an element of fear of the unknown and almost settling for the best they have now as they are scared they won’t find anything on ‘the outside’. Upon leaving sixth-form most blokes I knew couldn’t wait to pursue countless meaningless sexual experiences, they had no desire to get married or even ‘fall in love’. In fact, I will go as far as saying you don’t know what love is until you had a good lay or two! I actually remember telling the first woman to do a bit more than hold my hand straight away that I loved her. Now, no disrespect to said woman, she was a fine girl, but I didn’t, this was just my way of expressing how overcome I was to find someone who liked me [enough] in that way. You can’t possibly tell true love if you’re in such a mindset.

One of the many things that I thought was portrayed superbly in Louis Theroux’s ‘Extreme Love’ mini-series was how easy finding casual romance was once institutionalised – in the dementia home he went to there seemed to be more f**king than forgetting. I think this showed wonderfully just how easy it is to finding romance once the playing-field has been levelled. In such an environment both sexes have struggled to find sex partly due to their conditions, therefore when they find themselves among one another they just can’t help themselves – and I can’t say I blame them. However, I think the difference between finally finding it easy to be wanted sexually and being deeply in love must be differentiated.

I have been told by many drunken female friends [some of whom I wouldn’t say no too!] that there’s a very special girl (who may or may not have a disability) out there who I’m going to find makes me incredibly happy indeed and it’ll be well worth the wait. This may be crap but I’m perfectly happy waiting, I’m sure it will be worth it, so why hurry?

A ‘dark’ one (creative piece 2)

I recently received some very good advice from fellow comics and damn good men, Paul James and Wil Hodgson, which was to try to grow out of describing my act as ‘dark’ – not because it isn’t, but because of all the hack rape-humour associated with this sub-genre. For me it’s very easy to be “dark” just by being completely honest.
Anyhow, dark or not dark as an act, I seem to have found myself writing a pretty dark piece for my second Creative Writing assignment. Unfortunately I don’t mean ‘funny’ dark, I mean ‘pretty distressing and upsetting’ dark. I have no idea where this came from, so please don’t try and psycho-analyse me; I’m a perfectly happy stable person, in fact I can show you my wall were I write that sentence out daily if you don’t believe me!
Ha, I’m joking ok?? You all know I do it on my PC because I can’t handwrite.
Anyhow, here’s the piece, strap in. Thankfully it’s a piece of flash-fiction, therefore it only lasts [exactly] one-hundred words.

*EDIT* After receiving feedback this piece clearly doesn’t work the way it’s meant to, the intention is you’re meant to realise right at the end Andy’s watching his wife having an affair. Consider it work-in-progress.

As the pair became increasingly intimate Andy had never felt more alone. He wondered why love affects people so differently and how it was his love that caused him to be where he was now. He had so many questions but so little regret, it was fate that had put him where he was and he could see this was his destiny. At this he smiled.
Upon hearing the bang from outside it was Andy’s wife who stopped, and as she looked out of her window she could but try to feign surprise at the sight of his dead body.

OK, and now for a clip of Malcom Tucker to cheer you back up.

I’m a Gleek! (Well…)

I’ll tell you something I bet you’ll find hard to believe: I’m a Gleek! Ok, I suppose I need to clarify: when I say that I mean I have now had my first gig at a Glee Club – which I believe was also my first ever gig at a professional/dedicated comedy venue. Unfortunately, the gig seemed to go rather well which means I now have an awkward task of writing it up without sounding like a complete dick – but hey, it isn’t as if that usually puts me off. Plus, a couple of friends actually requested I ‘blog it up’ afterwards, so blame them. In fact, I know where they live so we can go burn their houses down after you’ve finished reading this if you like. No? Suit yourselves.

It was a recent decision of Lee’s (the manager of the Cardiff Glee Club) to include up-and-coming local acts as open-slots on the Thursday night bills (which was handy for him as I hadn’t forgotten that he made me a casual lager-induced offer of a gig back in 2010!). This Thursday (May 10th) it was mine and my very funny Swansea-based pal, Geraint Evans, turn amongst a bill of well-established comics. We both drew the analogy in the taxi going to the gig that it felt like we were heading to a job interview, and although this seems a witty comparison in many ways this is in fact the truth; we were intending to sell ourselves and present ourselves as worthy of being paid. The others on the bill were getting paid while we were trying to show that we can do just what they do. Did we?? Well, that’s not for me to say, but…

There were three sections to the night and me and Geraint were on in the second, it went Geraint first and then me. I can’t deny I was thankful for this because from what I could hear backstage, even after some great compering by Damian Clark and a solid opening slot from Marlon Davis, the audience weren’t completely warmed up. However, like a true professional Damian tried extra hard to liven things up as much as possible for me and Geraint, we both walked onto the audience chanting our names, which was rather nice indeed. Geraint’s set was as enjoyable as always from what I could hear backstage, it took him perhaps a minute to find his stride but this was down to the atmosphere more than anything else. I particularly enjoyed seeing him [a Swansea boy] make fun of Cardiff’s inability to get into the premiership, although it didn’t get as good a reaction as it can do in art centres, his warmth and slight-cheek meant it was greeted with mirth and definitely no hostility.

Next up was me! Not only did I get to walk on to an (albeit fairly small) audience chanting my name, but I also had ACDC’s Back In Black playing which sure felt empowering and enjoyably clichéd. Set-wise I played a very safe game, in fact I was going to do one new bit on observational comedy but at the last minute traded that in for my tried-and-tested ‘Anne Frank’ routine. Ashamedly, this decision was mostly down to my judgement of the audience, the ‘observational comedy’ bit is appreciated mostly by more comedy-savvy audiences, while this crowd just looked like they were up for a casual few beers and a laugh. That was probably far too judgemental of me, but the Anne Frank routine got a good reception so HA!

After my set I got to nurse a pint while thoroughly enjoying Charlie Baker’s headline set, plus with the added bonus of being told The Glee Club might offer me some further, and possibly paid, work. Mint.

Comedy sounds

Every now and then I think “S**t, I’m not doing enough with my life”, which may be inaccurate but the advantage is it makes me reach out more, be it a two hour train journey for a ten-minute open slot, volunteering for Noah’s Ark Appeal (yes, it’s true) or taking a Creative Writing class. Yes, that’s right I now take a Creative Writing class at Cardiff University.
From what I have experienced of it so far I find it thoroughly interesting as well as a cold reminder I really need to read much more fiction (or take more drugs) to enhance my creativity. I read magazines/articles/papers regularly but so often find myself really enjoying a book yet neglecting it mid-read for weeks, which is bad (I know).
Anyway the homework task for the first week was to write a 150-word piece focussing on sound. So I played very safe and wrote about the sounds of being a comedian; and here it is. Enjoy.

Johnny was deafened by everything but silence as he approached the microphone. Glasses were chinking like an orchestra of detuned xylophones, inane conversation had acquired the decibel-level of concord, chairs screeched like cartoon-brakes as people refused to stay stationary in the drunken confusion the night had become. Nonetheless, as that cold steel microphone stand grew closer Johnny realised that the sonic barrage of drunken mayhem did nothing to drown out his inner-dialogue of self-doubt.
“You’re rubbish!”, cried a voice from within.
“You wrote most of these gags two years ago!”, sniped another.
Still, as he heard the click-clack of the microphone leaving his the stand, it was the sound of his own experience that prevailed. And as he heard himself delivering his succinct sharp opening, drunken mayhem turned into concentrated silence then that into a wall of mirth and glee. For Johnny had, once again, heard HIS sound, the sound he lives for.

New toy!

Aren’t I a bad boy? I forgot all about Blogging Against Disablism Day 2012! Well, here you go: parts of life can suck foot fungus when you have a disability, so don’t make it suck any more by treating us like sub-humans (unless we’re devoutly religious/right-wing and in which case, knock yourself out).

To be fair I had quite a good excuse for my lack of any postings onto this ‘ere internet: my computer died. Died: failed to start up completely? No… Died: kept crashing? No. I mean, died: you hit the ‘on’ button, one light comes on and absolutely nothing else happens. People were giving me advice on how to start it up safely by making changes in the BIOS settings, but I couldn’t even get to the bit where you get the option to enter the BIOS! This was like telling a racer, whose car won’t start to get it seen to at the checkpoint. (Sorry, that analogy added nothing, much like this aside, but I just felt like adding it because I could. Deal with it.)

Were there warning signs? Well, yes and there had been one for pretty much a whole year that ol’ lazy bones here did nothing about. At every puny task the system would partake, ie loading up the lightweight WordPad application, the fan would produce a sound emulating that of a jumbo jet. I became accustomed to it, but trust me it was awful; its one saving grace was that it gave me an excuse to play my music loud – I had to just to hear it! I’m amazed it survived as long as it did, I presume what happened was something eventually got to a heat the faulty fan failed to cool and this caused a piece of hardware to be damaged… I guess, anyway.

As you may know I’m embarrassingly reliant on the internet – I mean what if I have something to rant about and no way of accessing my blog? I might explode inside or, worse, perform the rant as a routine without adding enough gags and die on my arse! The prospects of me being without a pc are catastrophic. This is why I took myself off to Comet this morning with the intention of buying a brand-new pc. As you probably can tell by the presence of this blog entry that intention became a reality and I settled for this nice sleek Fujitsu reduced from about £650 to just over £400 – or so I was lead to believe. It’s got 4 GB RAM which I do believe is a mere 2000 times more than the first computer I remember receiving (a Macintosh LC II, I believe) and a 1TB hard-drive – which is enough for all the por… sorry, drafts of routines, I could ever think of.

I was talking recently about the need to back-up, which was highly ironic as it had been almost two months since I had done so myself; thankfully I just lost several albums (from cds I had right next to my desk waiting to be ripped) and three new routines. Two of these were short and, remarkably for me, didn’t contain a whiff of a dick-joke and the third was just so sexually grotesque and horrific that even my mind wasn’t going to let it go, so I merely transferred them safely using the human memory interface.

So yeah, fight disablism, back the hell up and when your computer sounds like a jet engine its days are probably numbered.

Chortle fail #2

And so it goes, when I have some genuine beef with the world of comedy I usually succeed in getting that onto Chortle, but when I exaggerate that beef through want of having another article published I usually get rejected. Which is fair enough. The below might be more a case of the latter (and definitely was in Chortle’s eyes); however I consider the piece to have enough purpose to be blog-worthy. ‘Do you?’, well that’s for you to decide. x

There was a post on Chortle a few weeks ago arguing the benefits of going on first on a bill so that you can leave the gig and get on with the rest of your evening. Generally I feel that this is bad advice, from a self-centred perspective if you stay you may get offered a gig, and from a more caring outlook it’s good to show your support to other comics. It is only when you leave the stage that you can fully relax and enjoy your evening, so it seems a shame to instantly rush off back home to an environment that may well be less enjoyable than a comedy club. If you are gigging on a professional bill the chances are it would cost you a fair bit to see the headliner normally, but here you are getting that option for absolutely free. Plus, who knows, if you are single and had a good gig there may be a member of the opposite sex waiting to talk to you afterwards – a thought which I regularly entertain but never see fulfilled.

However, my main criticism with his line of thought is he seemed to omit the one valid argument for his case: getting home. In an ideal world I would never ask to go on in the first section so I can get home early, but the fact is that trains don’t run all night and asking to leave a little early is far less rude than expecting to be put up. I love a post-gig pint or five as much as any comic – it’s a chance to gloat if it has gone well or to mourn if it hasn’t, but sometimes it’s a good idea to save these for hometown gigs. If you are gigging on a weeknight the chances are that most of the acts won’t be up for a big booze-up and may well, even if they offer you a bed, be getting up very early the next morning.

Obviously there is a question of distance and journey time, as I doubt most people are capable of driving ten hours with just a ten-minute gig in between. However a couple of hours for a round journey on a train isn’t too taxing. Yes, it may seem lonely but, quite frankly, a large amount of showbiz is. If you’re not willing to spend a little chunk of your evening in a quiet carriage with just a book and headphones for company the chances are you aren’t cut out for this comedy-lark, or at least aren’t at the stage to be gigging outside your immediate radius. If you look at the Chortle forums people regularly stress how important it is to start travelling to afar gigs, though I agree up to a point one should not lose all sense of perspective over this. You should never feel bad in turning down a gig if after consideration you’ve concluded that the effort and price in getting there and back far out-weighs the possible gain.

I have found promoters have always been highly accommodating when I explain I have a train to catch so need to shoot off early, at worst they might warn me that the crowd may not be completely warmed up. In fact, by telling them that I am on such a tight schedule (too tight even to enjoy a few pints!) they are often touched that I went to such effort just to do a gig for them. However, when telling the promoters be sure to stress the fact that you’d love to stay if you could. If you are a genuine comedy fan this would be the truth but if you aren’t get off the circuit and stop clogging it up for the rest of us!

So, if you need to shoot off by all means say so and no doubt the promoter will make your early exit possible. The other article seemed to suggest using a less-than-truthful excuse to get out early; but there is no need, if you have a train to catch, an early start or kids to put to bed just say so. However if you don’t have any of these the chances are you can, and really should, stay; so do so, you’ll probably have some fun!

There, shit wasn’t it?

Hacked, now back!

I had recently been enjoying a sudden surge in hits to this ‘ere blog. God knows why, but tales of meeting Mr Stanhope, advice on how to enjoy mealtimes when you have a personal assistant and rants about The Undateables must have their appeal. However, you may have noticed that I had no hits what-so-ever over the last few days, this was due to the simple fact that the site was down. Down for maintenance you may presume, but no, not even that; the truth is much more simple and sinister: my webmaster’s server came under a severe attack from an anonymous hacker.

Thankfully the server did what it was told and no data was lost, therefore my webmaster just had the mammoth task of reconfiguring; however it begs the question of who would do such a thing. I admit, half in jest, my ego kicked in and thought it might be a militant “disabled person”/disability pride supporter not liking my opposing points of view – believe me, these debates can get very heated. But this was not to be, and Juls, my webmaster, remains pretty certain it was just a random hacker doing it because he can.

I ask you, who is the name of Dawkins does something like that? Though I’m definitely not condoning it, I can see there may be a sense of achievement in hacking into an aggressive internet-giant like Amazon or Google. But Juls runs/maintains these servers for absolutely no return and just out of personal kindness. WHAT A DUDE, you should say, and yes you are right. I shed £230 for this website design which was hefty but filled the bill perfectly, however Juls maintains it and is always there for advice if I need it [almost] twenty-four/seven FOR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. This man deserves a knighting and definitely not a hacking!

In this day and age we are encouraged to spend so much on products that are designed to prevent intrusions and viruses and it is very easy to believe such threats are exaggerated in order to make us spend. Perhaps stubbornly, this event hasn’t made me change my opinion (especially as there are many great free products that do these things), but it has highlighted that such threats still exist. So, if you are running anything net-based, the chances of anything happening may not be great but they are still there, so it’s best to stay protected/backed-up! (And on that note I am opening my FTP client so that I can back-up the contents of this entire site, as they appear at this very second, on to my computer. Then onto my external hard-drive, just to be safe!)

Annoyingly for me, this came at a time when I’d finally got my monthly hits to this blog in four figures and was setting myself the task of continuing to find subjects interesting and universal enough to maintain such statistics. Obviously this is not to be after the recent downtime, so if you can make sure this blog is read by like everyone in the world that would be greatly appreciated! x

Home cookin’ (with help)

So, as you might have gathered by my recent blog on where I like to eat in Cardiff I like my food and when I say like I mean absolutely flipping adore. Plus, despite only just being able to use a toaster by myself, I love eating in as well as eating out. A lot of people I’ve come across seem to think having a personal assistant means you have to rely on lightening-quick ready-meals but this is a complete fallacy. An apparently ‘highly regarded’ disability guru named *CENSORED, due to his lack of communicative ability instead of arguing his point he’ll probably threaten legal action, but all said is true so I’ll gladly email you his name* told me I’d get in trouble for eating anything that isn’t a ready-meal. However, this same guy is convinced everyone who enjoys living their life in spite of having a disability is ‘in denial’, plus people with CP start wearing “nappies” when they hit 25. (I mean, even to use the word ‘nappy’ as opposed to ‘incontinence pad’ in an apparently professional context is incredibly worrying.) In fact, he put £5 to this a few years ago and the only reason why he is still in my MSN contacts is so after I’ve woken up and independently urinated on my 25th birthday I can claim that sweet fiver from him. So, in a nutshell, don’t listen to him, he is a mental unit of epic proportions.

Anyway, enough of bodily functions, now for food…

If you are on the direct payments scheme the hours you get with your assistant will be relative to your level of impairment as opposed to your level of independence. For instance, since I am barely able to use a toaster I get twenty hours a week which is just enough for an hour three times a day for every meal [minus one]. However, since this scheme puts me in charge of the hours I soon realised that spreading my hours so thinly wasn’t a good idea for me and my PA. She has other things to do in the day, plus so do I, being available for each other three times a day simply wouldn’t suit either of our lifestyles. Instead I decided to have her one hour most mornings and two or three most evenings, and as I have sacrificed not having her at some times of the day when I am entitled to, I do not see any problems in reaping the advantages the hours she now works for me in bulk.

Cooking together is also a great way of bonding with your PA and having some fun. Perhaps you don’t feel up to helping with any of the preparation, but this isn’t a problem, you can still be there to read the recipe, say where things are or just have a chat. While it is going on you could listen to something together that you both will enjoy; there are countless ways cooking can improve rapport.

You could be reading this thinking “That’s ok for you, you have a relatively mild condition”. However, I don’t get this argument because firstly, I don’t. My condition is far from mild, there are a lot of things I cannot do and need help with, just because I’ve spent 24 years fighting to be as independent as possible doesn’t make my medical impairment any less. Secondly, ok I know what with the government being complete groinal sweat-glands this might not work out quite as well in practice, but if your condition is severer than mine you should be in receipt of more hours, therefore more to play with. When I first started on the scheme at university coming from a specialist residential school I had no idea how I’d survive with so few hours of help, it seemed daunting. However, over time I discovered lots of ways I could economise and make my hours go a lot further; obviously these are relative to my level of needs but even if they don’t apply to you they could inspire you to think similarly.

1. Load the washing machine and unload it in two separate shifts. Laundry takes ages, but the actual time one needs to be there for is minimal, it takes about five minutes to load a machine and ten minutes to hang it out to dry. You can easily have it loaded ready and turn it on two hours before your helper is due to come in the evening, plus most washing machines now come with timers, so if you can’t turn it on just ask your PA to set the timer.
2. Have a meal or two out with a friend during the week. Contrary to popular belief, eating out isn’t always expensive, especially if you do it over lunch. Sometimes it is nice to give your helper a shift off and be able to wake up/go out when you want to, and your PA no doubt feels the same.
3. Schedule a ‘fancy meal’ day. During university I had a friend of whom I shared a love of food with who would work for me on a Monday evening. Ever since then Monday has been the night me and my helper dedicate mostly to ‘kitchen time’. The other evenings during the week I’ll dedicate to my PA helping me with housework and have something simpler to eat.
4. For the evenings when you don’t dedicate so much time to your oven, have a couple of meals you and your PA know you can make relatively painlessly and quickly. Here are a few of mine:
a) Carbonarra. This is a very easy, quick and filling dish to make, and most importantly the recipe can be modified to one’s taste effortlessly. Boil some pasta, fry some bacon (possibly with garlic if you’re single or not kissing anyone for a good twelve hours), whisk up an egg, cream (optional, but so much better with) and a good handful of grated parmesan. Finally, chuck all these together on a plate and tuck the hell in! (Bear in mind grating parmesan can be tough work for someone, but the pre-grated stuff is sub-quality, after talking this through with my PA I bought an electric grater and both parties were satisfied.)
b) Pesto! Jarred pesto is one of the greatest cons of the modern day as it is very over-priced and so easy to make – no, that isn’t me being a snob, it really is! Again, like a carbonarra its quantities can be varied to your specific taste, but unlike a carbonarra it doesn’t need any cooking. Preparing is basically a case of blending basil, olive oil, pine nuts, parmesan and a squirt of lemon juice while the pasta is boiling and… No, there is no ‘and’, that’s all it takes! There’s a great recipe on Jamie Oliver’s website.
c) Bangers and mash! C’mon, good butcher’s sausages, creamy, buttery mash and a simple onion gravy, are there many more things one could want in life?! Perhaps the most time consuming part of this meal is peeling the spuds, which is why if I’m feeling like a bit of extra texture I simply leave the skin on, if the mash is so creamy that it slips down you probably wouldn’t notice anyway.
d) Burgers and chips. This is another ridiculously easy meal to make which people too easily settle for a fake mass-produced imitation from takeaways. Making burgers is an effortless task of binding mince together into patties with egg, mustard or another binding-agent and maybe a few herbs, then frying them. Making chips does depend on how comfortable your PA is deep-frying: on one hand they are so quick and simple, but to the novice they can be quite dangerous. If one of you does not feel comfortable doing so, you can always shallow fry flat-chips or boil cubed potatoes then finish them off in the shallow frying-pan, they are almost (!!) as good.

Another beauty of burgers and chips, or any meal I’ve advised in fact, is that it is fun to eat for two, therefore why not offer your PA a portion too? This is another way of showing your gratitude for the help you get while maintaining a very good rapport. Perhaps such tasks do go beyond what is normally expected of an employee, so why not go beyond what is expected of an employer?!

Diggin’ Doug

Ron Paul is a controversial figure in American politics, he is glorified by those who view civil liberties with the utmost importance but often hated by those who regard welfare with equal magnitude. As someone who is ever thankful for the NHS and the welfare system in the UK (well, ‘was’ ever thankful anyway), I admit my stomach churned at his infamous ‘Let him die’ clip and from that moment on I knew I’d never be a supporter. This is my opinion and I’m still sticking to it, however what I’ve now learnt is that isn’t a valid reason to be put off his supporters. Most Americans aren’t as used to the concept of public health care as we British are. There are a number of reasons for Paul’s appeal (at least before the allegations of racism he was rather-too-vague about denying), and therefore, as I have now discovered, it is unfair to judge most of those who supported him. In finding out the misanthropic Doug Stanhope was a big supporter I instantly put him down as a guy whom although very funny, I probably wouldn’t particularly take to person. This was very unfair of me, and after going to see Doug’s excellent new show followed by drinking with him I can now vouch he is truly a spiffing guy, and one whom would never deliberately harm those with disabilities (as some people seem to be suggesting).

A section of last night’s show was dedicated to discussing his latest ding-dong he got into with Alison Pearson over Tony Nicholson’s right to die in which he used some particularly colourful sexual imagery. When I first heard this story my reaction was similar to when I first saw his brutal Sarah Palin clip, I had no immediate issue but could see that using such language so carelessly could easily cause offense. However, it was then I discovered his motives behind this argument and my opinion quickly changed, he genuinely wanted to defend this poor and now helpless individual’s right to die. Even if his argument wasn’t conducted in the politest of manners (which none of the best ones are anyway) it was still a caring and thoughtful one. In seeing Doug on such form you realise that while he often uses very politically incorrect language, he does it with much more care than meets the eye. For instance, once you have accustomed yourself to the shear brutality of the infamous Palin clip you realise the terms he is using are through the mouths of republican presidential candidates.

The right to die has been something Stanhope has never seen any reason not to discuss on stage and he definitely made no exception to that last night. He spent a fairly large chunk of the show the [presumably true] story of the night he helped his severely impaired mother commit suicide. It would be fair to say that this was the darkest tale I’ve ever heard a comic tell, but in doing so he showed what a true professional he was and managed to have the entire audience in hysterics – regardless of whether they agreed or not. It was uncomfortable, but never too uncomfortable, pushing comedy to its limits while still being comedy, one of the finest routines I’ve ever heard.

I previously wrote a blog which became published on Chortle about how I did not rate his ‘Oslo’ dvd, and in fairness I still don’t, it is a poor gig. However after seeing him on such form last night, it became clear it was just that: one poor gig. Even when discussing the ever-so-recent Pearson episode he was still driving for laughs all the time and you never got the feeling he was anything other than fully in control. There were a fair few vocal and completely random hecklers, most annoying but few abrasive, all which he sent off superbly – even when it was clear he didn’t understand them.

Spending time with the great man was a pleasure too as he was genuinely eager and intent on hearing what we all had to say [even if he did make it joke about how hard listening to what I had to say was!]. I did feel very nervous in doing so under the assumption that he probably read my Chortle piece, but whether he did or not definitely didn’t affect us getting along. (Much to my relief his girlfriend actually explained that he was forced into filming that gig and never rated it himself.)

So, a great evening spent with a true legend.

The Unbloggables

I made a pact with myself that I wasn’t going to judge C4’s The Undateables before I watched it, however if you caught any of my tweets leading up to it you will realise I found this very hard to keep. It was just the other day that I used Twitter to push the view that a far better pitch would be The Truly Undateables. In this show a camera crew would pursue a team of pitiful Channel 4 executives going to the lowest and most excruciating levels to pick up. The issue they have is that due to possessing neither a soul nor a penis they always fail and then a group of suave dudes with mobility impairments come in and, to be embarrassingly misogynistic, take the goods. This only got one retweet, but I’m still not ruling out a HBO series. Plus, of course, the series will be narrated by a woman in a tone so patronising embryos cringe.

The problems I had before I watched the show were [glossing over the essay of venom I could easily shove in the title’s face] that it seemed exploitative and in highlighting the issue it was making matters worse rather than better. Firstly, in some ways I am my father’s son (well, biologically-speaking in quite a few ways actually), and one thing I inherit from him is a dim view of television in general, especially commercial television. One of the sickening truths I learned when I took one module in media studies was that the overriding goal of any programme on commercial television is to sell the adverts. Yes, it is true, you think of the adverts as the things that break up the programmes but, rather horrendously, it is the other way around. Due to this, such programmes, if not executed in the utmost care (which this definitely wasn’t) can seem highly exploitative.

Secondly, although it is always good to encourage issues such as disability and dating (cough sex cough) to be discussed openly, doing so in such a manner just makes such stigma far worse. Calling the show ‘The Undateables’ seemed a truly mentally-vacant move right from the start. At first I thought it might be going for a ‘set em up to knock em down approach’ in that it would showcase people with disabilities getting off and making sweet sweet funtime left, right and centre. If that was what it was going to showcase I’d have no problem seeing the irony in such a title, but sadly it didn’t; and the displays of limited success, failure and pity it showed did not justify the title as irony. Also, what was the show meant to accomplish? Guilt-tripping women into sleeping with us?? Sadly, sexual desire is as cruel as it is Darwinian, and just as we talk about survival of the fittest, it is the fittest who always appear stronger partners when it comes to procreation. Having a disability can sometimes mean we will have to try extra hard to woo a certain girl which sure is tough and unfair; but surely less tough and unfair than a girl getting with a chap she’s not really attracted to out of guilt?

The programme decided to repeatedly remind us that “80% of people said they wouldn’t date someone with a disability”, now much like a person with a vertical impairment on a Super-size Me diet this is a shocking figure. However, you know what they say, there are lies, damn lies and statistics with sources one has to be highly dubious about. Where did this data come from? If I were to be highly generous and assume it was from a large and diverse sample of people I still have a big issue with how the question was asked. Yes, on one hand you might expect more people to say yes out of politically-correct guilt, but on the other if the only information they had was that the individual had a disability can you really blame them for saying no? In cold isolation the question ‘Would you date someone with a disability?’ is effectively asking ‘Would you date someone whose only claim to individuality is that they move slightly awkwardly?’. And, to be perfectly honest, no I wouldn’t, they sound incredibly boring. I’d be very interested to see the results of the poll ‘Would you still fall in love with your ideal soulmate if they had a little difficulty getting around?’, and I expect there will still be an 80% majority, although this time for ‘yes’.

As for the programme itself they couldn’t have picked three more clichéd characters for such roles if they tried. There was the ‘all round dude’ with Tourette’s, the ‘sympathy case’ with quite acute Aspergers and the picky princess with Brittle Bones. (Please note, this is not an attack on three great individuals by any means, just the manipulative way television portrays them.) It did seem like they were handpicked for the part, as they couldn’t have seemed better suited if they tried.

I found Luke, the ‘dude’ with Tourette’s, the easiest to watch and perhaps the one I shared the most with – well, he does stand-up for a start! He was definitely portrayed a ‘person with a disability’ as the programme focused on his quirky sense of humour and his edgy personality. As for him having Tourette’s, it is a condition which gets put out and ridiculed (often with full approval from the individual) so often that I’m passed holding a judgement.

Then comes Penny, the trapeze artist with brittle bones, to be blunt I felt she came off by far the worst out of the three, which is probably testament to awful programming rather than her personality. She was very much portrayed as the princess that wants it all but could not have – which I doubt she is like at all. The narrator made quite a big deal about the fact she wanted a very tall guy in a tone of voice that could only be described as highly condescending. But, c’mon, all girls dream about tall guys, right? She was the one that ended up turning her date down at the end, which again contributed to her ‘girl who wants it all’ portrayal; but her and her date shared very little in common, she can hardly be blamed for this, right?

Then comes the darkest third of the show, so far the programme has taken a little advantage of two very strong, in-control characters; now for Richard, a man with acute Aspergers. I barely feel comfortable blogging about him nevermind the fact he was in such a blasé type programme. If you think the question of a condition like Tourette’s or Brittle Bones and dating is sensitive enough, acute Aspergers and other pragmatic disorders open yet more areas debate. The idea of how such an individual will connect with such a partner and how that individual makes sure his emotions aren’t manipulated is an essential factor in how such an individual could get gratitude out of a relationship. To be crass, Richard’s condition affected how he could feel love where the other two just had conditions which perhaps impeded on how they got love, and I feel this issue requires far more sensitivity than Channel 4 were willing to give it. However, still, good luck to him, he seems a passionate enthusiastic chap and I hope he finds out what would truly make him happy and gets that.

There, that’s my opinion.

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