Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Here I am, on the last day of my tour, at Comedy Cellar in the International Bar in Dublin, Ireland. It's the oldest comedy club in Dublin, and if it's shot from a weird angle, it's because my friend Beth had to shoot it from the front row, because the audience was so crammed that otherwise she wouldn't have had a sightline. I was out of my mind from exhaustion, and I smelled like a pile of dirty laundry. Over all, it went well.
After my set, I went downsatirs to the bar, and a fiddle band started playing all spontaenious-like. Awesome. Too bad my camera has a kinda shitty mic, so you can't hear them too good. But please note that if your instrument only requires one hand, you can use the other hand for drinking your pint!' A great send-off for an amazing trip:
Friday, December 14, 2007|
Thursday, December 06, 2007
London's Stansted airport has made one contribution ot the betterment of society. I have yet to see this anywhere else in the world:
Having experienced first-hand Londoners' inability to give you directions to any given place...
... I can honestly believe that this conversation took place:
BLOKE 1: Pardon me, old chap, I say, have you bally well seen St. Paul's Cathedral? I can't for the bally life of me find the rummy old thing.
BLOKE 2: Eh, what?
BLOKE 1: I say, old, man, it's a bally huge cathedral, a testament to God's greater glory don't you know.
BLOKE 2: Can't say as I have, old bean. Cathedral, you say? Most likely a huge thing made of brick and concrete and marble and all that old rot?
BLOKE 1: Oh, I say, here it is, right in front of my bally face. If only they would erect signs to clearly label where these bloody things are hidden.
BLOKE 2: I say, steady on old chap.
And I believe that conversation's happened more than once. More than once a day.