I have suddenly realised that being me is dull…so why write a blog then? I hear you ask…well sometimes exciting things happen. Like last weekend when I was in Groucho and the lovely sexy pop star Sophie Ellis-Bextor came over and told me she loved my comedy work. Her boy friend nodded in agreement, he is the bass player with the group ‘The Feeling’.
I was stunned that she has ever seen me on stage but she definitely had…I told her I loved her work, especially that song ‘Murder on the Dance Floor’ as me being from the rough part of Glasgow I had actually seen a murder on a dance floor! She laughed…her man said he loved my YOUTUBE comedy clips and I sat there amazed that they knew who I was!
The second funny weird thing that happened was I got an email from a woman who told me that after reading my autobiography she and her mates had gone on a ‘Janey Godley’ tour. They went up to my old home in Shettleston that is mentioned in the book and my old pub in the Calton, so they could revisit all the places I had written about! I was slightly shocked and laughed (I couldn’t think what else to do when I read it) So there we have it…some weird stuff and some odd stuff at the same time.
Just to update, my show at East Kilbride Theatre has sold out but my one woman show at Glasgow Comedy Festival at the Garage Venue on March 8th has tickets Still available.
The Hackney Empire was full of crazy comics last night. The show was to pay tribute to the amazing Malcolm Hardee and loads of lovely comics turned up to do their stuff. I was there in attendance as hostess in the green room and I really dislike alcohol and people who drink alcohol! Not really the ideal job for me….especially as I ran a bar for 15 years….you would think I would have gotten over that shit eh?
The celebrity gangster Dave Courtney was one of the compares of the night and he is so fucking funny and over the top I can’t begin to tell you how hilarious he is… He dresses so fancy and dandy he looks like Elton John! I swear he had three dress changes, one outfit was a cream brocade suit, the other was a blue shiny jacket and at one point he was clad in vivid purple…he had more dress changes than Shirley Bassey on a Bond Sing a long!
I was in the kitchen pouring drinks at one point and Dave came in made a mess with cheese that scattered all over the floor, I stood there and shouted “For fucksake Dave, I just cleaned that floor” He smiled and said in front of everyone there “Babes clean it up darlin’, that’s what women do, that’s how I treat my women” I knew he was being funny and he isn’t really that rude, he was playing up for his mates.
Everyone there stared at me; I looked at him, held out the wee dustpan and brush and said quietly “Please brush that” He leaned down in his bright cream brocade suit and started to clean and I put my feet on his back and said “And that’s how I treat my men”
He laughed his ass off and we actually hit it off, he does like being bossed around with women and with my old gangster connections I knew just how to treat him right back. I did actually like him and he is irrepressibly polite and funny to be with which did surprise me….so it just goes to show you cannot judge people too quickly!
Jo Brand was also on the bill and she is wonderfully funny and nice to chat to, there were some newer comics there and one young female called Helen Keen was fucking awesome. Watch out for her name on the comedy scene, she is just wickedly funny.
I had a great night and enjoyed the show even though I was supposed to be working, John Fleming who helped on Malcolm’s autobiography “I Stole Freddy Mercury’s Birthday Cake” organised the whole thing and he did a great job pulling it all together.
So now I am home and husband made a big stew dinner which was lovely as when I am away I live on chocolate!
Sorry I have been missing in action, been here in London and doing stuff!
I am staying in a wonderful apartment over looking West London, but I do get lonely here at times and wander around room to room talking to myself! The people at Crown Lawn serviced apartments really look after me, the place is awesome.
I am out tonight helping at the Malcolm Hardee Tribute Show.
Tonight at the Hackney Empire there is an amazing show in honour of the late Great Malcolm Hardee. Big comedy hitters like Jo Brand, Norman Lovett and Phil Kay will tread the funny boards to celebrate Malcolm’s life. For those unaware of the fabulous man, he was the Father of Alternative comics in UK, he was to comedy what John Peel was to music and he died in his beloved River Thames in January 2005. He was a great comic promoter and anarchic prankster; he was there at the forefront of the stand up comedy boom in the late 90s and early 80s. He started and managed many of the household names in UK comedy today, like Paul Merton and Jo Brand.
Last night I went out for a quick drink at the Groucho club and met the fabulous Sophie Ellis –Bextor, she is spectacularly beautiful and her boyfriend is the bass player in the group The Feeling. Turns out Sophie has seen me on stage and told me she loved the comedy stuff I do….I was astounded! A lovely pop star likes me comedy! I felt famous for two minutes! I loved her song ‘Murder on The Dance Floor’ as I recall days in Glasgow when there was a murder on the dance floor! (Joking….kinda!)
Other good news is my one woman show at East Kilbride Theatre has SOLD OUT! So today I am sitting here feeling a wee bit sick but not due to alcohol or anything as I don’t drink much, I think I ate something dodgy and that’s horrid.
I am off home to Glasgow tomorrow and can’t wait to see my own house and my own telly and my own sofa and…..of course husband!
Well as predicted in my blog two days ago, Jade Goody is reported in the press as being ‘suicidal’ I did say that her next step at attention and retribution would be her threatening an attempt on her life.
The Scottish Sun screams the headline today January 22nd - ‘Jade on The Brink’ and reports that the Big Brother star is on the brink of taking her own life. This can only be a reflection on society yet again.
This woman was originally feted by the British Press since her first release from Big Brother in 2002. She never won Big Brother back then, so why is this woman worth so much to the media? I assume that Miss Goody was famous for being ‘fat, common and ignorant’ and for that reason the public took her to their hearts. She wouldn’t change for no one! If Jade is happy about who she is and honest about how she looks then why did she get so much liposuction and surgery to change her appearance? She could have spent the cash on expanding her vocabulary and learning more about other cultures.
She left the Big Brother house and embarked on a spate of reality type shows including ‘What Jade did next’ then subsequently released her autobiography and launched a perfume called ‘Shh’. It has been recently withdrawn from the Perfume Shop, due to the racism outcry.
She was so popular with young girls all over the UK and treated to Celeb status within the industry. Is this really what we want young people to emulate? Who now wants to be like Jade Goody?
Now since her very public tumble from grace, she has no where to turn.
She is reported as saying “I have no career after this, I have ruined my career entirely”
I have no idea what that career was…I admire people who come from talent shows and make it in the big bad world of entertainment but when that person has no actual talent I get angry.
Jade talking on various chat shows, shagging men who then equally become famous for bedding her, her mum becomes famous for being a bad parent …the list goes on!
When it all comes down to it, Jade being Jade is an awfully frightening reality in itself.
Endemol the production company that is responsible for Big Brother had invested so much in Jade that it too is now reviewing its future with the big mouthed bully. She is no longer ‘hot’ she is in fact suicidal and frightened for her kids life.
This is a terrible turn around for any woman to bear and I do sympathise BUT…talent and integrity should be the reason people become famous and rich.
The one person who will shine throughout this experience is Shilpa Shetty, the graceful Indian actress. Her intelligence, beauty and class overcame the guttersnipes and that is a wonderful lesson to every young girl who studies hard, behaves with honour and is true to herself.
That is something I want young women to look up to.
I am now 46 years old as of yesterday. This means a host of things.
1- My womb will slowly fall apart and hormones will start to flood my system till I kill an owl or shag a teenage boy.
2- I will start to wear jumpers with shiny sequins and appliqué butterflies.
3- I may buy a small fluffy dog and call it my ‘baby’.
4- My hair will get cut into a manageable bob so that when I take up hill walking it won’t get bothersome.
5- I will start collecting miniature ballerina’s made of porcelain and attend conventions where other old women talk about porcelain.
6- Water colour painting classes will fill my days and I will start visiting small towns to capture the features of the charming cobble stoned streets.
7- I will stop dyeing my grey hair and embrace my age, I will stop wearing a bra and let my moustache grow into a full on Magnum job!
The train journey up through those beautiful snow capped hills was awesome and Inverness is just beautiful. I was doing a one woman show at the Eden Theatre and I was really concerned that on that frozen rainy night - no one would turn up to hear a Scottish woman gab about her life!
I was also quite worried that the showdown between the Big Brother contestants Shilpa and Jade would make people stay at home.
The good news was that LOADS of people turned up, it was wonderful. I also got some great press in Inverness and the people are so friendly, for instance I arrived at a small pizza joint at 5pm. There was only one wee guy there and I assumed the place was closed but I was starving. He was so lovely, he sat me down made me a cup of tea and baked me a great pizza within minutes. I loved him! What service!
What I did love about Inverness was the people who sat after the show and chatted to me at length, they were so supportive and interesting.
The down side was I had a really bad reception on my phone and no internet connection whatsoever.
I was really pleased that the article I wrote about Jade Goody’s attitude and behaviour in Celeb Big Brother that has been make international news got printed in today’s Scotsman Newspaper. I was disgusted with her bullish-ness.
This year’s Celebrity Big Brother was losing ratings as the interesting guests started walking out, and had been the worst ratings for the show since its conception.
Now that there is racial tension, the ratings have gone through the roof. What does that say about us as a nation of viewers? The pack mentality being exercised in the Big Brother House is unacceptable yet it has been proved to be a huge success for Endemol.
The political repercussions are resonating throughout the world. Gordon Brown is currently in India and it’s a bad day when our Chancellor of the Exchequer has to defend a chav in our International community. He is battling to preserve the British image over the fuming accusations of racism. MP Tessa Jowell made a statement saying “This is racism being presented as entertainment” Who would have imagined a few media hungry, fake tanned, foul mouthed young women could cause such a stir?
I assume that now the errant bully and racist Ms Goody is now out of the reality TV show and has realised her carefully constructed image had been shattered, she will have to rethink her strategy in PR. Let’s hope she doesn’t do the obvious and go for public sympathy and do a ‘fake attempt on her life’ and end up in hospital citing exhaustion. It’s too obvious but seems inevitable. I hope she is strong enough to resist that path of attention.
So I am lying here on the sofa and having fun, the good news is my husband NEVER got me LAVENDER for my birthday as he did last year!
Ashley asked to me go shopping for some mayonnaise, so I pulled on a pair of bright green welly boots, dragged my bushy hair up into a tufty ponytail and scrubbed my blotchy face and got ready to go out into the rain. I topped the look off with a giant overly big snow boarding coat that is too long and makes me look like a scary dwarf. I went off in the slashing rain and headed towards the supermarket that is inside the petrol station. The aisles are so narrow but I headed for the vegetable rack and decided to pick some red onions, as I did this some onions fell from the box, hit my toe and went hurtling under the display. I sighed and turned to walk away when this young guy stopped me “Did you drop something there?” he asked in his American accent, his teeth were the bright white that young Americans have by sheer DNA. He looked like a student, he had a bag slung over his shoulder and he raked his hand through his spiky dark hair. He didn’t move, he stood there and stared at me. ‘Holy Fuck’ I thought, I must look so much like a mad crazy bag lady that he can’t bear to look away. “I dropped some onions and then kicked them under the display” I mumbled. He stood there and still hadn’t moved. I began to feel uncomfortable, I knew how I looked, I had caught one of those scary side glances as I leaned into the fridge to get some cheese and the mirror reflected back a witchy hag in wellies with piggy wee eyes and blotchy skin. “Excuse me I am staring” the young American spoke “Can I ask you a question?”
I thought he knew I was a comic and that explained the staring and he was going to ask me a comedy related question, so I finally relaxed about how I looked, I smiled and turned to him and replied “Yes please ask away”
People behind me started to push past as we were blocking up the aisle, the guy raked his hand through his hair again, and he smiled, looked me right in the eye and said “Can I have your number and maybe we can go out sometime?”
I was absolutely gobsmacked; I really didn’t think he was going to say that to me. I flushed from my toes up and the man behind pushed at my back to get past. I simply looked at the guy and said “No” then stumbled off soaked in embarrassment and clumsily battered my plastic basket against the legs of poor shoppers.
It was hard to ignore the guy in the shop, it really is a small supermarket and every time we crossed paths, he smiled and would stand at the side, throw out his arms in a gentlemanly gesture and let me pass him every time. I sloshed past him, welly boots smacking off the backs of my legs making big clappy noises that made me wish a robber held up the petrol station and shot me by accident and I never had to endure the ‘clappy slappy wellies’ and face the young American in the frozen food aisle.
I was leaving the shop when the guy came back up to me and said “Goodbye, you know if you change your mind, we can swap numbers” I looked at him and finally faced the situation I took a big deep breath and blurted out “Listen mate, I am 46 years old next week, I am old, grumpy, I have skin that no longer fits me properly, I need 12 hours of sleep just to make me feel ok on a daily basis, I have grey hair on my eyebrows and I am scared to see where else I am grey, I haven’t had to be nice to a man to get a fuck in 27 years, I am not going to play out your Mrs Robinson fantasy, find someone else who does, and thanks for he compliment, I do appreciate it”
The guy merely spread open his arms and walked off, I hauled my bags up further to stop them from banging of the wellies that were banging off my legs and walked straight into my husband who had been standing watching me to chat to the American boy who fancied old women. “Why were you yelling at that boy? I could hear you as I came round the corner” husband asked me as he took my bags from me and tried to turn his face away from the driving rain.
“He was asking me for a date, look at me… do I look like a woman who picks up young guys in a supermarket?” I asked him with frustration. “You look sexy, the wellies are really dirty and I am sure that’s what enticed him, I am horny just looking at those rubber boots, you bad woman making young men sexy at your funny boots” he joked and put his hand and took it mine as we walked against the rain. All I could hear was the noise of those fucking rubber boots slapping off the backs of my jeans all the way home.
I am quite touched now, that some young guy fancied me so much or maybe he is one of those evil men that murder woman he meets randomly and I looked like the perfect victim? ‘So here’s to me Mrs Robinson’
I woke up this morning like a cloven hooved monster. Bad dreams plague me and I am not Doris Day at the best of times, so you can imagine how I feel when I wake up groggy and husband asked me thirty three different questions in a row like... “Good morning do you want tea? Did you know you have to make fifteen phone calls today, have you thought of a new article to write for newspapers? Why does your hair look like that? Do you know whose pants these are in the linen basket? Have you decided when you are going to tackle your tax receipts?” and many more like that...bullet words spattering my half dead brain…I want him to die.
Ashley is worse, she wakes up like a mass child killer and you daren’t ask her anything till she is at least awake for an hour, as the result is a series of doors slamming and screaming…WOW! She makes totalitarian dictators look like one of the Von Trapp family when she is in full flight.
Husband still hasn’t got this little detail into his daft brain yet…even after 20 years he still meets her in the hall and shouts “hello pretty girl, how are you this morning” to which Ashley sticks up two fingers and shouts “Die you fucking madman!”
He really doesn’t know how to take a hint, he must have been raised by people who get up at 6am and skip around the house collecting flowers and singing pop tunes from the 1960s, which I know is untrue really as he was raised in an all male dominated house where the men were either involved in crime or involved in some scan or were in prison.
So I am a grumpy old woman today and its best if the world just fucks off till I am fully awake and can have a shower.
Yes! I know what a title for me…little miss housewife and mother, but there we have it. I was just thinking today as I read a magazine about how women of a certain age perceive sex. I am sick to fucking death about the ‘we want sensitive men’ crap and here’s the deal.
I don’t want a bath run for me, or a back massage, or a chat about my day….I just want to go to bed and get jiggy. I know this makes me sound awful and ‘not really what a woman should be’ but I am fucking annoyed that today’s men are so scared of being demanding. They have to cook a meal, burn countless tea lights over the bedroom and put on some soft music. I can do without steak, I hate the smell of candles and I don’t need the noise of fucking whales moaning in the background when I just want laid.
My husband, and I am sure countless other men get completely fucked up by women and our constantly changing moods we go from ‘You only want me for sex’ to ‘You never listen to me’ so it’s hardly surprising that they worry and don’t know whether to rub scented oils on your feet or rip off your bra.
I am nearly 46 (next week) and am now after 200 years of marriage still not sure what it is I want and he will never fully work me out, I am a complex of emotions….a Rubix Cube of Demands if you will….if you get all the colours matched up then I am yours. So far he hasn’t worked out one side yet and I am sure that’s what keeps us together so far.
As far as birthdays go….well last year I was in London alone on my special day and he never sent a card, or did that spontaneous thing of turning up at my door with a hard on and chocolates (which is my favourite fantasy except the hard-on belongs to 50 Cent the black rapper) he merely called me and told me that he had bought me LAVENDER….yes you read that correctly fucking smelly Lavender…now as much as I like it washed through my bed lined …I DO NOT expect it as a birthday present when it is clearly a knock down Tesco special gift pack on sale after Christmas.
He has never really recovered from the lavender incident and probably will die fretting about it. When I un-wrapped the gift, I was furious.
Imagine Coco Chanel being given beige stretch leggings and a pair of vinyl beach shoes as an outfit and you get the picture or imagine Elton John being given a plastic clock in the shape of Native American Indian’s head for his sitting room wall and you really get the picture…I threw the lavender off the living room wall and refused to speak to him until he could give me three valid reasons why he thought I wanted lavender as a gift.
He sat sheepishly in the bedroom and came out and said “It wasn’t my idea Ashley picked it” which I knew was lie as my daughter is way too classy to pick lavender, so not only could he not think of a reason….HE LIED….it took till February before I kissed him again.
This year I want chocolate and sex and in that order….preferably both from that black cutie 50 Cent…I am sure he could offer me more than lavender.
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