I haven’t had a decent lie in since London. Honestly you would think I had a proper job or something, having to get up early and be places is the very reason I became a comedian. I do nowt!

This morning I had to get up and go see the specialist about my ‘bowel’ issue suffice to say I am getting a colonoscopy quite soon which I am sure is sexual to a few hard nosed politicians yet evil to me.

I have NEVER found excitement in shoving things up my back bottom, seriously -its exit only- and those folk who shove hamsters and lava lamps up theirs need executed or put in a special ward. Ok that might have sounded extreme, but I am having a strange day as a pigeon attacked me as I slept.

Here is the story; my bed is beneath my window, so my pillows are basically where your knees would be if you were hanging out of my top floor windows. I like it that way but sometimes I push the windows open full and birds come up under the eaves, spot the gaping window and do a wee peep in. They see me in bed two feet away from them then don’t understand they need to be quiet and let out a big loud squawk or make a pigeon warbly noise. We stare at each other as my eyes open, big fat bird sitting on the inside of my window ledge, me lying on the pillow hoping it doesn’t come any nearer. I throw up an arm it shits on my pillow and flies out into the back court. That what usually happens, but today was funny.

I slept after the hospital appointment and I woke up at 11am to see two pigeons pecking at my jewellery box on my window ledge. They clearly fancied a wee wander in and tapped across the shelve ten inches above my skull and then sat there warbling to each other.

The noise woke me up, I gently lifted my head, the bigger bird panicked and just fell out of the window…screeching…like it forgot how to fly, but the sassy smaller bird pecked my velvet jewellery box and eyed me side on. It was challenging me! I am sure it was a ‘she’ as ‘she’ gaily tip- tapped across my window shelf, shit on it and deftly flew into the grey Glasgow sky.

This is what I miss about Glasgow, the sheer audacity of its pigeons.

It is good to be home though despite the colonoscopy and the pigeons.

Late blog – I know. Sorry, I was either really busy or asleep in London.
The time just flew past and I didn’t quite catch up with myself.

And I have been partying a wee bit, I do that in London – I rarely go out in Glasgow and save all the time up and end up staying out at The Groucho Club till 2am, then sleeping in like a fat old dog.

My trip here has been really interesting, firstly on arrival in London I decided to call up Gordon Smith who is the boss of the Scottish Football thingy and I applied for the job as Scotland football manager. The fact I called it ‘thingy’ should indicate I am not really suited to the job. But the press were touting Sean Connery as the next manager and because I actually live in Scotland, I thought I should be more in the running so to speak. I can order men about, I can actually play football and I am great at strategy, what’s not to like?
“Do you have a valid coaching license?” Gordon Smith asked.

“No, but I do know Hologram Tam and he is the worlds best forger and he can get me one” I laughed.

Well, they never called back, so I guess the job is not for me.

London is wonderful at this time of year as the Christmas lights are up in Oxford Street and I LOVE the lights, I am such a sentimental twat at times, but I just love the wintry feeling and the twinkling lights.

Hyde Park is just a carpet of crisp golden leaves and the sky at teatime over London is scudded with crimson smudges that reflect onto the oily surface of the Thames, it’s just amazing!

It’s as if someone had taken a whorey pink lipstick to the sky and had dragged it over the dappled clouds.

The pale blushing sky creates an inspiring backdrop to the Houses of Parliament; you have to see it to know what I mean. I love London.

I don’t love drug fucked alcoholic men with skinny hard faced blonde women who come to comedy clubs to scream at comedians. I hate those bastards more than anything and yet Camden seemed to draw them in on Friday and Saturday night.

It can be exhausting verbally fighting with coke fuelled men in front of 200 people for money, but I am an MC and that’s my job. I won, they were thrown out and the comedy went good. Ok, heres some tips for anyone who fancies coming to enjoy a comedy gig.

1. Don’t snort Peru up your nose; it doesn’t make you amiable in a crowd of quiet people listening to one person.

2. Don’t patently ignore someone with a microphone speaking to you and try not to carry on foaming at the sides of your mouth as you scream at other comedy goers asking you to shut up.

3. When 200 people shout ‘LEAVE! LEAVE!’ accept that they don’t like you and just fucking leave. The people have spoken my friend.

4. Don’t abuse someone for being Scottish then try to cover that abuse up by declaring you are half-Scottish, that’s just mental and invites some of the best retorts from a Scottish MC.

5. Never go anywhere where you want to talk more than the people everyone else has paid to listen to. It really is that simple, stay at home and shout at yourself, is all I am saying.

Other than that life is good. Meetings went well and I now have some serious writing to do.

I got to hang out with Monica my best mate in the world and it was so good to see her, we get to talk really fast Glaswegian and not worry about pronunciation or slowing down for other people. Though she does speak amazing Italian, French, Spanish and possibly seven other languages in a fabulously funny Scottish accent, I hear her talk to some of the European chefs she represents and piss myself laughing – she is amazing.

Nothing strange, funny or weird happened for me to write home about, am sorry- I feel as though I am letting you all down if I haven’t punched a Politician or fell down a flight fo stairs in front of a Hollywood superstar, but sometimes my life is dull and is all about looking at the awesome skies over London. Am home tomorrow…spea

I was in Aberdeen last week doing a show at the Lemon Tree, a storm lashed the Granite City, and sideways rain like a giant fire hose was drenching each street at a specific annoying angle. The new shopping centre was lovely but unfinished and the cash machines gobbled up cards and refused to spit them out, like a greedy plastic swallowing hooker.

The hotel had a wee single bed which slid along the floor when you sat on it and to top it all the fire alarm screamed us all awake and made us all stand in the sideways rain in our pyjamas, I wanted to burn to death instead.

Touring is so sexy.

I was tired when I hit Aberdeen station to get the train home. There was a big fat steely haired woman in a rail workers jacket at the ticket gate. “What ticket do I put through the machine to get onto the platform? There are nine tickets printed for this journey, I don’t know which one to slide through the machine!”

She sneered and shouted “the one that says journey ticket, why don’t you check?”

The tickets have tiny writing and there are so many of them it really is hard to figure out which one is the valid ticket.

“Listen up fatty, NINE tickets here now tell me which one? They all look alike. What is your job? Staring at pigeons?” I shouted at her.

Just then two really old people came behind me with a deck of tickets (why is there so many wee orange tickets printed out for A JOURNEY?)

“What ticket do we use to get through there are so many?” the wee old stooped man asked fatty fuckwit.

“What do you think? The one that says journey…” she started to yell.

“Ok, you annoying pedantic fat pain in the butt, I will stand here and I will show people which ticket as the TRAIN is LATE I will do your job and help elderly people with the tickets” I screamed. Pigeons flew away in fear.




So I stood there at the gate and pointed out to people who were staring at a fist full of tickets and who asked fatty sarcastic arse for help.
Every time she attempted to use her nasty sneering attitude, I butted in and helped the people. It wasn’t altruistic I was just annoyed at her and bored to be honest.

She then told me to stand back from the gates and I refused.

She got the station master bloke who came over, listened to her moan about me standing at the gate and then came over and told me to move.

I explained that she was ignoring people’s pleas for help and explained the whole situation and the elderly man and wife came over to back me up. Fatty was told off and made to go back to the hut where I hope the chained her to a radiator and let her piss her own fat legs. What a cow.

They put a young Polish bloke on the gate and he politely explained to people who were struggling to figure out which ticket to slide through the machine. Screw you Aberdeen station ticket woman.

The journey home was pleasant except I had a screaming kid on the seat opposite. I didn’t get angry I merely got off my seat and went into first class where the ticket checker let me sit the whole journey for no extra charge, see some people on trains are nice.

I went up to Easterhouse to do my one woman comedy show on Saturday and it was awesome. Lovely to see so many people turn up for comedy and the show went well; Ashley sold 25 of my books for me, what a lovely child!

This week I am off to London, I have some gigs, some meetings and another big audition. Scary stuff but contrary to the rumours, I am not going into the jungle…don’t believe everything you read on the internet.