Janey's Blogs - June 2006
the 1st of June 2006
Sorry I am
a late Slag!
I have been
over-worked, over excited and over here in NZ for too long and the
net was down for a while
sorry I am late but I have an excuse!
The comedy shows
have been going great guns at Silo, selling out well and I am so
very pleased with that, as you can imagine.
sunny again and I have a burnt nose! I am going to Mike Loders
home today; Mike is the funniest comic in NZ and was the guy who
originally inspired me to write my autobiography back in 2002. He
encouraged me to keep writing to him and the original draft I wrote
was the actual document that got me a book deal
.so I love
It has been
so awesome catching up with my old pals here in NZ but my schedule
has been full on and thats crazy.
Ashley has blended
into the Auckland comedy community so well, that people dont
assume she is my daughter as she knows more people than me here
and already seems to be part of the fixture and fittings (thats
what she does!) and thats so heart warming that all my mates
got to meet her.
I am writing
for BBC radio 4 at the moment and its been hectic trying to fit
everything in, remember I am still trying to get everything rehearsed
and sorted for Edinburgh Fringe as well
I miss husband
and it wont long till I am home now, I get back to Glasgow
on 8th June, which is good because sexually the homeless man who
lives in the dumpster at the corner of K-Road is starting to look
I am dreaming
about sex, everywhere I look people are having sex, its mental.
In the hotel
we have the Junior All Black Rugby team staying, and we got a few
of them on camera telling us they were a gay dance troupe
out for that live blog!
I was lying
beside the pool yesterday and a few of those big rugby players came
up, stripped and lay beside me
.I was like a crazy sex starved
bag lady, I almost licked one! Those tight fit torsos are
making me go nutty
.I need to get laid soon or stray dogs will
I am so sorry
I was late here, Ashley is having a ball and has decided she wants
to live here, which scares me slightly as I will miss her so much,
but I think with the two of us living in such close proximity we
have came across personality clashes which I thought would never
exist between my daughter and I , but then to me she is still five
years old and not a healthy big lovely 20 year old woman
sparks will fly!
Sunday the 4th of June 2006
at Auckland Comedy Festival
It is Saturday
night here, I am about to go do my very last show at Silo Theatre.
I have loved that theatre; the people are so cool and helpful. Ashley
has been having the most fun a girl can have on tour with her mother!
With a few exceptions of privacy issues
.we really do
need a big apartment with separate rooms. The mess she creates makes
me feel raped. I cannot cope with the sheer amount of clothes and
shit lying about this room, but I know she is good at putting it
all away and I have cleany freaky tidy issues that go back to my
childhood. Ok I have to go so Ashley is going to finish this blog.
See you all after the last show and I will keep you updated.
Blog readers, Ashley here. Mother is off out for coffee with one
of her NZ friends. Tonight is the big end of festival party at the
Classic comedy club on Queen Street; this means that many comedians
will be drunk and fighting for attention, practically all of them
will be men and really we should just get the rulers out at the
start of the night to save all the noise.
I got new boots
yesterday, they are like pirate boots but with a large 4inch wedged
heel. They are black leather and go all the way up to my knees.
They are the luckiest boots in the entire world! A man spilled a
drink on them yesterday and I asked the bartender for a cloth to
clean them, when I told him what it was for he ran round the bar
and polished them for me. It may be that these boots are magical
or it may be that the bar tender is a ginger 19 year old filled
up to the eye brows with sperm and male hormones! I choose to believe
the former and not the latter.
Mum says shes
ready to go home, but shes old and has responsibilities. I
want to stay here and never leave mainly because most of my responsibilities
are reasonably dispensable, though I know she would not agree with
that. The Edinburgh festival is not dispensable but Im warming
to the idea of going to Scotland for a holiday. A dream I know but
if you come to this country and spend enough time in it you find
it hard to believe that more people do not live here.
if anything has been kind to me. For the first time whilst travelling
with my mother I have felt a bit like my own woman, maybe its the
fact Im now 20 and dont need to wear dungarees, or maybe
I am a little more confident in myself as a person ( I wasnt
the prettiest teenager.) Im not saying Im a super model
now, but at least Im no longer wearing Baggy Goth jeans for
the simple fact that normal ones wont fit me.
So mums had
some good reviews in the press here in NZ. The real excitement is
that I am no longer Janey Godleys quite funny daughter, perhaps
she is now Ashleys very funny mother. Here are the two reviews
that have made my trip to NZ all worth while and make me smile every
time I read them! It sounds big headed I know but when you spent
puberty with kids following you singing
Ashley is a cow, ee ay ee ay oh!" (I wore Dungarees for far
longer than any person should) It feels nice to be complimented
in the national press.
daughter Ashley is the butt of a fair amount of material as we hear
Janey did not initially embrace motherhood. But
the stunning young woman proudly filming her mother in the foyer
after the show, has obviously been loved and nurtured, and not adversely
affected by growing up round drunkards and addicts in the family
bar ("she thought they were pixies and fairies", Janey
"The most mumsy of tonight's performers, and she is lovely. Her hot daughter is a hot topic and most of the jokes are at her expense. But when you've got the funniest mum on earth, who cares?" Our rating: * * * *
So from both mother and I here in New Zealand a fond farewell and see you next time.
Monday the 5th of June 2006
It was the last
night of the New Zealand Oddfellows International Comedy Festival,
my shows had sold out here in Auckland and in Wellington, so I was
so very pleased and I thought things could not get better, until
the Comedy Festival Awards night.
Ashley and I
were there to support all the newer comics we had made friends with
who were up for a BILLY T award, this is a very prestigious award
given to one of the lesser known comics who are based in New Zealand
to help them promote and support their comedy career.
Ashley was filming
some of the event for our documentary, then they announced the Spirit
of the Festival award, it goes to the person who has embodied
the whole festival, been supportive to other acts, been co-operative
to work with and enjoyed their time in NZ.
When my name
was announced as the winner-I almost peed myself, and there was
my huge face up on the screen, it was such a lovely gesture that
I almost cried!
I thought that
was such an amazing act of kindness from the organisers in Auckland.
They then announced
the nominees for Best International Comic- up
first was David ODoherty, Phil Nichol and
Godley! There were so many awesome international comics over here
in NZ to be chosen as a nominee is wonderful.
won the award and rightly so, but just to be nominated was enough
to make my night.
So today is
a holiday, Ashley and I partied hard last night.
I wish I hadnt
worn high heels, my feet feel like they had been battered by tools
of the devil.
There is a guy
here in Auckland who dresses up as a wizard, with huge pointy hat,
striped socks and strange make up. I watched him yesterday as he
sat in the sunshine, casting mini-spells to anyone who would listen,
just then two very serious Christians clutching their bibles sat
beside him and prayed loudly for his soul. The wizard man sat nonchalantly
and arranged his wee candles into a pentacle and drew devils faces
on the pavement beside the guys praying as their eyes were shut!
I could not stop laughing at this, I know the wizard guy is harmless,
and I understand the Christian people need to do their scary work,
but together they made the funniest improvised show I have seen
in a long time
.they should have won Spirit of the Festival
I go home to UK on Wednesday .Video blog will be up soon on Livedigital keep watching, just go to Livedigital.com and enter janeygodley and check out my stuff!
Friday the 9th of June 2006
Well I am
After the longest
journey in history I am finally sitting at my home pc!
We left Auckland
on Wednesday the 8th and due to passing through the International
Dateline (I never even got a date!) we went a day back in time!
included babies that screamed like a referees whistle and
kept Ashley & I awake constantly! Why? People should shut their
babies up on long haul flights.
We landed in
LA and managed to get upgraded to a better seat, but again that
flight was fucked as a small baby decided to break all world records
for The baby who can scream and stay awake the longest
I wanted to die
.every time I finally drifted off, that fucking
high pitched scream that made whales in the ocean below us twitch
me up again.
The mother just
sat there, I wanted to stuff the wee screamer into a small box and
throw it out of the window. Apparently thats illegal.
I would rather
sit beside the terrorist than that squealing pig of a baby, give
it drugs or something? No
.let it scream and keep awake an
entire cabin full of people who need to get to London refreshed.
Of course as we landed the wee monster fell asleep, I felt like
pinching it to keep it awake. Apparently thats illegal as
So we landed
into the searing heat of Glasgow
yes its summer here!
The bad news
is, our luggage cases went AWOL on arrival in Glasgow. We have been
frantic; there is nothing worse than getting to your destination
and not having your well packed and much loved luggage. Ashley is
hysterical as she has 21 hours of film footage in her camera, her
tapes and her hard drive! The good news is that I just got a call
and Ashleys case has been found and being delivered. Thats
great; as my case only contains a tripod and some clothes
important news is that all Ashleys camera equipment and film
footage is safe! She was gutted at the thought of losing her precious
memories being strewn to the wind.
So we are waiting
on news of my case, my good dress and my make-up are secreted in
that case, but that is easily replaced
Husband is watching telly, he is ignoring my big tales of NZ, he will not watch my footage of the shows, he is watching telly .so I am so needy and attention seeking as we speak why wont he listen to me? Probably because I will talk about that trip to NZ for the rest of my life and he will no doubt hear it over and over again but a bit of attention would not go amiss!
I am off to kill him. Bye.
Saturday the 10th of June 2006
The open fire
crackled and spat, making the atmosphere electric, as if the noise
and fire displayed the tension in the room. A small firework arrangement
just for us, I sat there and could feel the intense heat on my bare
legs, well not really bare but my cropped trousers only reached
my knees when I sat with my legs hunched up to my chin. Suddenly
this small amount of flesh on show seemed sexual! The skin on my
shin bone shone in the glow. I could see old scars below my knees
from my childhood exploits, a dark blue vein throbbed blood through
the myriad of tissue on my lower leg and I watched it with fascination,
why have I never saw that before, when was the last time I stared
at my shins?
The man sat
near, I knew he wanted to touch my leg, the fear and excitement
this caused me didnt make sense. I waited for a spark to ping
out and burn me, punishment for my sin of being needed by another
man. My need for him to touch me was becoming frightening, what
if he never touched my leg? What if he didnt actually want
me at all?
I can never
truly read sexual situations, being married too long makes that
muscle weak. Never having to dance that tightrope of sexual persuasion
for a long time disables your inner sense. I might be wrong, he
might be feeling sorry for me, watching me sitting here waiting
to be wanted with a throbby veiny leg.
I tried to numb
my brain to all the heightened senses that flooded through my body,
why was I here? Why am I not at home? Where is my husband? I saw
my husbands face, very young
he must be seventeen in this memory
I noted to myself. His dark eyes were staring at me with a strange
anger flashing through them.
Not now, please
let me have a bad memory of him, I want to see his nice face, I
quickly flick through the Rolodex of years and marked memories looking
for the look that always made me want to kiss his chin, that kiss
that almost gets his mouth but some how feels better it landed on
The man reaches
over and stops my brain from downloading a good picture of my husband,
his hand gently but very accurately touches the scar on my shin
bone, the feeling makes my whole leg tingle, his fingers are strange
to me. I dont know these fingers; I can tell you a story for
every scar and mark on my husbands hands, each freckle and
nick are as familiar to me as the map of my own body.
understand this feeling; I have never felt this slow trickle of
excitement for many years. I never knew the tops of my outer ear
had nerve endings, but they do. They slowly tickled themselves,
as if there were some electric current attached from my shin bone
to my ear lobes. Is that an erogenous zone? I dont know and
I start not to question it in case it stopped as the feeling was
so good and intense I never wanted it to end.
I cant do this I blurt out did my mouth say that? Why is it saying that? I can do this, I want my body to feel that tingle all over the way my ear and shin does.
ok, I knew you wouldnt he whispers.
The fire cracks
loudly and this time a sharp pain hit the back of my hand, I wince
and look at the small red mark. The man lifts my hand and kisses
to go I say as I jump out of my crouched position.
Before I am
truly aware of my movements, I clumsily stumble to the door of his
flat. I get out into the street and feel the late summer wind blow
my hair about; though there is still a chill in the air. My heart
is beating in my chest, I dont want to look round because
if he is there and looks at me and asks me once more
stay. I will let those unfamiliar hands find me.
Instead I walk
briskly, I walk until roads and shops become familiar to me, I walk
and breathe out more and my shins now feel cold, it must be 4am.
I finally get
to my destination; I wait patiently in the lift that takes me straight
to my room.
I lie down and
fall asleep with all my clothes on and wake up late the next morning.
were talking in your sleep, are you ok? Ashley looks at me
across the hotel room.
dreaming I tell her and I smile and pull the covers over my
Those are the kind of dreams I like, certainly better than the nightmares.
Sunday the 11th of June 2006
Not the World Cup
Oh Yes! This
morning I called British Airways lost bag department and YES my
wee bag is lying in a corner of Heathrow Airport! Its coming
I am so happy,
I have been wearing the odd clothes you buy but never wear that
huddle together in a mismatched bundle at the back of my wardrobe.
I am so glad Ive lost weight as some of my old clothes that
I used to wear 8 years ago fit me now, ok they are hideously out
of fashion but I need clothes!
I cant wait to see my favourite bra. Been wearing a baggy one for three days now and my boobs are just jiggling around inside it like two lost kittens in a shopping bag.
My good bra
really is lovely and supports me totally- I dont know why
I kept my old bras that are too big, maybe psychologically
I believe I am going get fat once more and will yet again have tits
that only John Browns Shipyard can make underwear to fit.
On another note
I was so very pleased that yesterdays edition of BBC radio
4 Loose Ends featured my Nancy Del Olios
(England football managers girlfriend) fake diary, live from the
World Cup camp in Germany.
I have been
commissioned to write five episodes and its so cool to hear
the actress speak the words I had written. I am now officially a
BBC Radio 4 writer
you have no idea how good that feels!
I have so much
to do this week and am getting stuck into it all. In preparation
for the fringe -I have my play to rehearse, the sketch show with
Ashley to finish and rehearse and maybe
.just maybe I will
make notes for my new Edinburgh Fringe show Janey Godleys
My blog is the
actual inspiration for the comedy show, I want to talk about all
the people I have contacted, all the people who have contacted me
and all the strange stuff that has happened over the last two years
of furious blogging
.you never know it may be YOU I am talking
about this year!
By the way thanks
for all the lovely comments about yesterdays blog, people have mentioned
they loved it, people have asked if it really happened and some
people just gave me compliments on my writing of mild porn
I am missing my true vocation?
When I was younger
I used to read the old corny Mills and Boon love books.
If you are unfamiliar with style of reading material, let me fill
There was always
an innocent virgin, she was slender, coy and somehow always fell
for difficult aggressive uncommunicative man (seems thats
what I did in real fucking life!) anyway, there would always be
situation where the broody man mistakenly assumes the
innocent virgin has another man and he rejects her brutally then
that situation gets sorted and they have sex
Mills and Boon
It would read
something like this
(Cue soft music
and blurred focus as if Vaseline has been rubbed into your eyes)
Brent stroked Jemimas hair. She shivered at the touch, she knew there and then that his intention would be delicious but yet it still scared her (Why? Does she not want this? I mean for fucksake she has been batting her fluffy eyelashes at him for 254 pages now).
His strong firm
hands held her tightly and he pulled her roughly to him (smells
like rape to me!) She tried to turn her head away but his dark blue
eyes compelled her to keep his gaze (scary man is hypnotists
Jemima). Then he slowly pulled her tightly to him and she felt is
manly strength press against her body, its nearness shook her, yet
she was soft towards him and accepted his needs (Dear oh dear
say NO ya mad bitch or get down there, give him a BJ and go pretend
to make tea and finish yourself off )
afterwards? After what? They only fucking hugged in the last sentence!
Give me some details
.) Afterwards they sat and watched the
sun go down on the horizon and Brent held Jemima near as they planned
their whole future together, she smiled slowly and knew that her
life would be complete.
Yes thats where I got any experience of romance from can you see where I went wrong? I mean after sex for the first time, sitting talking about your entire future is the last thing you need, maybe a cup of tea and a fag, maybe a talk about what you are going to do that weekend .no wonder I married the first man I had sex with, I blame it all on Mills and Boon books. I am off to sue them now!
Tuesday the 13th of June 2006
Yes, the luggage
arrived finally. I was really worried as the whole case was ripped
open, so I quickly did a check to see what was missing
know what was gone? My make up and my good BAFTA dress! Yes
case thief left a brand new hard drive, an IPOD, a camera tripod
and mini disc player, yet made off with make up and a fucking dress!
Some scary mad
transsexual is dancing around Heathrow in my frock and eclectic
selection of make up.
So I filed a
complaint for compensation.
On Sunday morning I got up, got dressed and headed for the Byres road for a quiet coffee. As I entered the trendy West End street, I was greeted by blaring pop music, 36 women dressed as butterflies and about 17 Down Syndrome adults with their faces painted as tigers blowing silver whistles!
thought my jetlag had made me go mental, turns out it was the West
End Festival, so I turned on my heels and headed for home.
I also had to
get up early to get new make up
can you believe a decent make
up brush costs £20, husband almost pissed himself and bit
off his own arm at the thought of me paying all that cash for what
he describes as A bushy thing that rubs shit on your face
but I needed to get new make up as I had an interview with BBC television.
I have a few
press things set up this week and am off again - yes, its suitcase
and pyjama time again, I have not got over jetlag yet either and
I am going to Manchester this weekend.
Ashley and I
are rehearsing and getting stuff ready for our Edinburgh Fringe
show, we sat in the sunshine at a beer garden and went through all
the characters that we play, some of these characters are quite
can I say
politically incorrect, the people around us were
Ashley and I
went up to BBC radio studios to do a live round up of the NZ comedy
festival, it is the first time we have done a live radio show together,
it was really funny, as we both got the giggles just before we went
live and had to stop looking at each other for fear of pissing ourselves
and being unprofessional.
So we have decided
to keep the show to quiet places till the Festival kicks off!
I am not used to being home, husband is like a dog with two tails, and his excitement at having me here is starting to annoy me. I am lying awake at night, not sure where my head is, the jet lag is so fucking draining and I have to have my intelligent head on as I am so busy.
I am missing Ashley today, she has gone to stay at her mates
house, she needed some space, I needed her near. I have to say spending
that length of time with her in NZ was the singular most wonderful
experience of my life. She really did make the trip so special,
I usually spend a lot of time on my own when on tour, but she made
me smile and laugh out loud so many times and the people of the
comedy circuit in NZ really made her very welcome, I am blessed.
I want to thank all of those guys for the love and generous time
they gave us. Ashley and I have made friends for life in NZ and
I want to live there forever!
I am up late tonight, in the hope tomorrow I will sleep past 6am .see you all soon.
Thursday the 15th of June 2006
I was at a special
community event today. I do workshops and am writer in residence
for the Drug forum people here in Glasgow. My play The Point
of Yes is about heroin flooding Glasgow and I play the two
are many other community group representatives sitting at their
info booths along side me.
I had on behind
me a DVD player and TV that was playing my comedy and play.
beside me were the local police.
I went outside
for a cup of tea and as I left I saw one of the organisers put up
the volume on my TV set.
What I didnt
know was, the comedy DVD that was on had reached the part where
I tell the audience several anecdotes on some old unsolved crimes,
I have a few funny stories about some illegal stuff and one actually
When I came
back into the room, the whole place was silent and all you could
hear was me shouting Fuck the police and a crowd cheering-and
the two policemen were sitting watching the DVD with great attention!
It was a fun
day. They gave me the strangest looks all afternoon, I did manage
to convince them that the stories were all just fun.
Also here is
some good news, I got my first journalistic piece printed in The
Scotsman newspaper today, they gave me an hour to write it yesterday
and I am very proud that it looks great and reads well!
I wrote an article
about how the British Press are verbally slaughtering Heather Mills
McCartney estranged wife of Sir Paul McCartney. I felt they
were being too harsh and as always coming down hard on the woman
and giving the man all the sympathy.
So here I am
tonight, getting ready to go to Manchester tomorrow. Husband has
been an absolute arse fuck wit and deserves to die in hot oil as
small pygmies poke his eyes with a hot needle.
I was under
extreme pressure yesterday, trying to work and write an article
last minute and he decided at that moment that I go find a cheque
book. I literally came off the phone from the newspaper who had
ordered the article. I sat at the PC and got ready to type and he
started being a child demanding attention. I had to leave the deadline
and go find a chequebook, which incidentally was lying beside HIS
bed. Then I finished writing the piece, I sat down and finished
writing my play, went off to write out my compensation forms for
my lost luggage, designed a poster, went off to do a workshop and
organised three radio interviews for next week AND wrote the diary
piece for BBC Radio 4, all the while as he moaned in the background.
He sulked and
told me he wouldnt speak to me again (Hurrah)
He never even
apologised, so I hate him and am going to find a Voodoo mama to
have his cock fall off.
I will keep you posted. Divorce is looming as we speak.
Sunday the 18th of June 2006
Yes, we are
in Manchester, despite trying kill each other and fighting furiously
(me winning every time of course) we are in the land of ENGLAND
for the WORLD CUP! Everywhere there are St.Georges flags, women
in red and white bikinis and small kids with painted faces.
Its really cool actually to see people behind their country.
I got a phone
call yesterday from an agent asking me if I wanted to do comedy
at the Scottish famous music festival T in the Park, but I cannot
do it as I am booked elsewhere at the time. Which is a shame, but
I am not good at letting people down on the other booking.
I did a radio
show last night after my gig at Jongleurs; it was for BBC Radio
5 live. The guy was chatting to me about my book and comedy and
I was tired, I hope I came across ok.
He asked me
a few times, how -after being sexually abused, coping with my mothers
murder and living with gangsters-did I find it easy to be funny
and why hadnt I fell apart by now?
Well, I find
it hard to explain that one, but it just IS.
He went on again
trying to figure me out and when I told a funny story about my mum,
he was aghast that I could laugh about her, knowing she had been
I can laugh
at my mammy, she was funny, obviously I am not laughing at her being
murdered, but I know she had a wicked sense of humour and would
be proud of what I am doing with my life. I dont think I can
explain to people why I am not a nutty crazy nervous wreck.
As for my mammy-
I am constantly
aware that she died at 47 and I am now 45, so I am going to live
every day for the next two years, doing everything I want to do,
and fuck the scary consequences. I dont mean I will do irresponsible
stuff, I will just make sure I will enjoy everything I do, and stop
letting the stress of life get to me.
why I am doing three shows this year at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
I am nuts
but fuck it!
Why not? If the critics hate me, if the audiences dont turn up, if the in-crowd mock my attempts then I will still enjoy every second, because I am still here and still alive and my mammy isnt, she never got the chance to do anything.
She will be
up there cheering me on, I know this.
I miss her terribly
sometimes; just small things make me remember her.
It can be piece
of music, or a smile I catch in the mirror or a smell.
I wish she was
still here, she would truly enjoy stand up comedy, and she would
come to gigs and sit at the back and laugh her ass off. My mammy
was as crazy as a cat on crack.
So here I am
today in Manchester trying hard not to argue with husband, although
his Aspergers syndrome is in full swing at the moment (it makes
me want to slam a door into his head) When I speak and inadvertently
say a certain word that he may latch onto, he associates it to a
.for example I said a few moments ago I need help
with this- he burst into the Beatles classic Help
and I had to stand until he had ran out of steam with the song,
before he would actually help me!
So far today
he has sung three lines in full blast of The Eagles, The Spice Girls,
Oasis and Elvis.
I may have to
kill him, I think if I went to court and explained how fucking annoying
the bastard is, the court would let me off the hook.
I mean how many
days can you go with some retarded Rainman singing replies to questions
with a weird word/song association without actually sticking an
axe into his head?
My second edition of Nancy Del Ollios World Cup Diary is on BBC Radio 4 today on Loose Ends at 6-15pm UK time. I write the piece and it is recorded by an actress.
Tuesday the 20th of June 2006
Sorry I have
been slack of late, I dont mean slack in any body
parts or I may have to remind you that the best quote I have ever
received was from my local district nurse who when trying to give
me a smear test actually said and I quote You have a surprisingly
tight vagina for a woman who has had a child Let me tell you
there is no quote can beat that EVER! I even put that on a flyer
to advertise my show!
Anyway I have been writing stuff for BBC and writing stuff for my shows and getting posters organised.
I was over to see my wee baby niece Abi and wee nephew Shaun, Shaun is nine and Abi is three, they are so cute and I love them both.
I have been worried about Shaun as there is a boy in his class who has been bullying him and causing him problems.
Shaun does try hard to steer clear of the boy and apparently the nasty boys parents have been warned repeatedly about their childs attitude to other kids, but this doesnt really help Shauns day to day dealings. I am sure he is still under pressure, but we are trying all areas to resolve it before I turn up and attempt to kill the parents of the 666 child that hurts my wee nephew.
Abi and Shauns
mum is my niece Ann Mags. She is pregnant with her third child
know the current state of her tight bits, but I assume they must
be under stress!)
Anyway, as I
was rubbing her mummys pregnant tummy lump Abi said to me
in a really serious tone of voice When that baby comes out
you are allowed to hold it but you are not allowed to break it Aunty
I laughed my
ass off at this. We all then went to see Shauns school summer
fete. All the boys and girls were singing about plants and vegetables
and growing and stuff I am not sure I understood, but my fav wee
nephew was standing holding aloft his dark spiky head a huge
intently then turned to me, her big brown eyes and huge floppy curls
are so cute- I smiled at her and leaned my head down to hear her,
but that wee lispy mouth shouted Why is Shaun holding a big
dirty vagebabble? I am awfully bored Aunty Janey Everyone
could hear her; I had to stifle a giggle. Shaun started laughing
and Abi stood on a chair and shouted Throw it Shaun, throw
to sing some song about growing and seeds, whilst giggling and writhing
about in helpless fits of laughter, still holding up a big dirty
cauliflower. He is a trooper. Abi clapped her wee chubby hands in
delight as her beloved big brother sang.
I wanted to
laugh aloud, but Ann Mags was glaring at me.
Come on how
fucking interesting can kids find cauliflower? I wanted him to lob
it at that nasty wee boy who bullies him in the front row. Just
the thought of the nasty boy being clobbered on the head with a
big cauliflower would have made my day
.and Shauns I
am sure. But we must play by the rules, though just watching the
nasty evil child give Shaun sly looks made me want to stamp on the
wee fuckers neck.
am not a child killer and can restrain myself
I had a horrible situation last night; I have been watching series 4 of 24, my favourite TV show. Fuck knows how Jack Bauer gets through a day without having a heart attack or at least a piss or a cup of tea I will never know! He must wake up some mornings, hear his phone go and say Fuck off, I cannot save the world, I am really tired and I get at least seventeen beatings and shot at 56 times in 24 hours
I cannot believe
how they expect us to believe a man gets that much torture, that
many bullets fired at him, that many close calls with death, so
many family members threatened or killed and still looks ok at the
end of it. Anyone connected gets dragged off by Middle Eastern crazy
extremists and he has to make really hard choices based on his job.
Yet he still looks cool and collected.
I have a situation with a parking attendant and I look like a crazy cat woman who needs 24 hours of sleep after that confrontation!
As I said I was watching the show, I ate some ice cream and then two minutes later vomited it up .it was so weird to puke up cold stuff, the ice cream came back out COLD! Yuk
So today I am
trying to get my life organised, I dont think I ma there yet
but at least I am trying.
Thursday the 22nd of June 2006
No going back .
I have had people
and journalists all week ask me why I tell all in my blogs. I think
I have an inherent need to keep talking or I will die! Sometimes
at home husband hardly speaks, he is very quiet. So I call mates
and I call family and when I have exhausted them I go on stage and
talk and when that avenue is done, I talk here. Maybe one day I
will run out of words.
At least I get
paid for it on stage! That helps!
Got my credit
card bill in today and husband sat there with that face
on, you the face that makes shocked looks at every expenditure,
fucks me off, I pay my own bills, but he does all the financial
work for me.
did you pay for a pair of jeans? You know you can get jeans for
£4 at Tescos He tells me solemnly.
you can have a wife who wears Tescos jeans, luckily you have
me who doesnt I add.
mind a wife who wore Tescos own brand jeans, she would be
nice anyway He mumbles.
then go fucking find some cheap chav who wears cheap clothes
I smile back.
I mean my jeans
were only £20, hardly fucking astronomical- I may stab him
at dawn. He still shrieks at the price of Lycra tights What
£7 a pair of tights?
If it were down
to him Ashley and I would be wearing wooden clogs that we carved
out each time our feet got bigger or he would have paint to change
the colour of the clogs if we fancied something different.
Left to him
we would be eating shit spam and chips.
I live in nice
places and eat good food and wear lovely clothes, he forgets I was
the child who wore torn and dirty clothes.
I had filthy
underwear and shabby shoes as a child, I lived in a dirty house
that was infested with fleas and often had to pick lice from my
hair. I once had scabies and had to paint my naked body in a foul
smelling chemicals and stand naked till it dried, the sheets on
my bed had to be burned and I slept with an old coat the rest of
The smell still
haunts me. I still dream about the filthy toilet and sometimes clean
it in my dreams! I cannot stand bad smells or untidy places. I clean
pub tables before I sit at them, I wipe cutlery in restaurants before
I am not going
back to being poor. I may die skint, but whilst I am alive, it has
to be decent accommodation with clean bed linen and at least four
star hotels. Nothing less will do.
it for snobbery or class obsessed, but it has to do with maintaining
my own standards.
You would be
surprised the amount of comedy bookers who assume you will stay
over at their flat when doing their gig to avoid costs!
I need to be
booked into a good hotel, have my own privacy and not have to sleep
in someones bed!
When I was a
child, I remember going to other girls houses and being amazed
at how clean they were, I would envy the drawers full of clean pants
and socks that lined them. The fresh cotton smell, the tidy rooms
with clean bed linen, the books lined up on white shelves, the fresh
food and non shouty sober parents that served hot soup, all stunned
me and made me eternally jealous.
I recall vowing
to myself that when I was older I would never live dirty again,
I would never watch my child picking lice, and I would never again
eat leftover chips that drunks dropped in the street.
and thats how its going to stay.
I am so glad
Ashley has never had to suffer any of the above indignities, she
has had a very privileged life in comparison but she does know what
I went through and does appreciate every penny spent on her.
So I am not going to wear £4 jeans, fuck off and find some grateful whore who will dear husband coz it aint me.
Friday the 23rd of June 2006
I went to visit
my old mate Betsy today. She is as mad as shit and so funny.
Not only were
her old drinking pals Tom and Stumpy standing at the door
but they had a barky mental dog called Biter.
I brought along
my laptop in the hope that I may have got logged into some free
broad band and YES it actually worked, so I was able to work and
hang out with my old East End mates.
Before it got
to 3pm, they were all roaring drunk; the party was in full swing
as I dont really drink) and it was all getting a bit out of
I knew it was
time to go when a hot pie was flung at the fireplace. They all started
shouting at each other and at that moment a journalist called me,
now trust me Betsy, Tom and Stumpy dont have the respect
to stop screaming when a phone rings. I actually had to pretend
to the guy that I was watching a Scottish violent film and would
turn it down to hear him talk, what I actually did was run out of
the house and take the call in the garden.
Thats my life!
On a funnier
note, as Ashley and I were going through the film footage she shot
in NZ, there is a small clip of me teasing some big rugby type blokes.
I have a bit of banter with them and actually ask them if they are
Turns out the
guy I was chatting with is Ali Williams the top All Black Rugby
guy! I saw pics of him on google with Prince William, and there
was me and Ashley taking the piss out of him!
Speak soon ..
Saturday the 24th of June 2006
Well I did warn
her, she is like me and cannot drink much. Last night she went out
clubbing and came home all bleary eyed. This morning when I went
into see her, she was lying in her bed, all sprawled out looking
like a murder victim, I am sure there was white chalk lined round
her. She lifted her face up and her make up was all melted over
her eyes, she looked like Gene Simmons from Kiss, except a toddler
had applied the make up and rubbed it in with a woolly sock.
There were big
black streaks running down her cheeks, her skin was beige and she
was lying there with her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth
the way dead dogs look after they have been hit with a car.
ok? I asked stupidly.
I have been sick on my Gameboy she whispered.
I looked on
the carpet and sure as fuck there was her wee Gameboy covered in
more vodka? I laughed.
I walked out
of the room that smelled like a homeless persons jockstrap
and went off to make myself tea.
I do feel sorry
for her, like me she can only drink small amounts and then pukes.
So today I am
off to clear my head as well, I have spent too many days doing nothing
for my shows. I need to go write, my show opens at Soho Theatre
in London next week.
Husband is being
typically lazy, doing nothing and I mean nothing. Its making
me crazy. I got up this morning and the house is messy, he literally
he keeps saying he will get round to doing stuff
this weekend, yet he still in his bed. Maybe I am being picky and
need to lay off everyone and focus on getting my stuff ready for
Or maybe that lazy fucker needs to get up and clean the place a bit.
Monday the 26th of June 2006
When Do I get it right?
I started telling
husband a thing that happened and he interrupted me by saying You
have told me this before
Yes, so I had
but there was more to it and I remembered some more details I wanted
to add to it, but he stopped me in my stride. I like talking and
he must secretly hate it, so I have decided not to tell him anything
interesting again and the next time he repeats a story I will halt
him and make him stop.
Believe me with
his Aspergers Syndrome he fucking repeats everything twice daily,
this will be fun. I hate him today. I was watching him when he wasnt
looking and everything he did annoyed me, even the way he blinked
annoyed me, the way he rubbed his eyes, irritated me, when he sat
and picked his nails made me want to throw petrol on him and set
fire to his big aggravating awkward body. Maybe its me, I know I
must be hard to live with, I am fucking full on at times. I know
this as when other comics meet him the first thing they always say
to him is Man, how do you live with her?
if I am some nutter, but there must be something about me as 8 out
of 10 comics say this to him, I suppose its because I talk a lot,
I really do, I need to stop talking soon.
Then again its
what I get paid for, so husband is an ass.
know how to do anything else. Comedy/acting and writing is what
I do. I cant imagine being anyone else.
I think I will work till I die. My mate Monica is the same; I am so proud of her. She owns her own PR Company in London, she works 24/7 and has her own office/staff and works full on, and she is also a great talker!
She is Scottish
as well and took on PR as a job to fill in till she decided what
her route in life was and now she expanded and she is one of the
biggest and most influential PR people representing Chefs/restaurants
If you ever
need a table at any of Londons most upmarket restaurants
then Monica is the chick in the know!
We were chatting
the other day about the hours and the madness that we do and we
both decided that what we do we love but it is very consuming.
I told her that
I was chatting to a woman on the plane from LA when I was flying
home from New Zealand; this woman had two wee girls with her and
her lovely husband. The lady told me that she was planning on two
said to her Oh, my goodness, how the hell will you find time
to work, if you have more kids? I was genuinely sorry for
The woman looked
at me shocked and smiled I wont have to work, my husband
has a good job, we have a big house on the beach in LA and I will
have kids and raise them, why would I want to work?
My brain took
about seventeen seconds to work out why that was a good thing.
what women want? I asked myself. Isnt this the ultimate dream?
Could I imagine
giving up my life to raise kids in a big beach house in LA and have
my husband work for it all?
No- is the clear
answer for me anyways. I know it sounds like a dream come true,
but I just cant and never did imagine never working and depending
on a man to do it for me. What if he died? What if he fucked off
and you never had any skills? What if you went mental making table
centre pieces Martha Stewart stylee? What if you were allergic to
pine cones and linen table napkins and the very thought of matching
your curtains to your bread bin made you want to shoot squirrels?
What if you
hated your kids and turned your life into the Ballad of Lucy Jordan?
(That great Dr Hook song where the woman kills herself through her
mind numbing experience of middle class, suburban life)
Now I know that
this isnt every womans view, this is mine, but I was
shocked at the thought that I never even considered it as a life
It may have
been easier for me had I married a man with that in mind, but it
never even came into my train of thought
When I met husband
I was only 18 and he was 16. His family were much richer than mine
(fucksake the poorest cousins of church mice were richer than mine)
yet I never thought once if I married him I wouldnt have to
work and he would provide. Not my style ever!
I have worked
since I was 16; I got three days off to give birth in 1986 and was
back at work the day I came home from the hospital. I cant
recall when I never worked, though now being a comic/writer person
I only work late at night to go on stage. The rest of my days are
lent to writing and organising, though my manager John Fleming has
a harder job. He has to organise me, advise me, nag me into doing
stuff and cajole me into being productive.
So there we have it, I married a man who hates me talking and yet its what I do for a living.
I may kill him (again) but at least if I do, I wont have to worry about who is paying the bills, who will provide for us, who will make the decisions, who will keep me company .I do that all on my own.
Thursday the 29th of June 2006
Am Late. I know.
Sorry I have
been missing again, I have been travelling and you have no fucking
idea how busy I have been but I must be disciplined and get my blog
up to date. I am sitting in fancy flat in Chelsea waiting to go
to Soho Theatre tonight for my opening night. I havent really
decided what I am talking about, but the show is about my Blog
this thing that you are reading.
The flight down
with husband was fun, I tried to sleep and luckily we got separated
during the flight as the plane was so busy so I didnt have
to feel guilty about tuning into my IPod. Normally he gets grumpy
if I prefer to listen to Steely Dan instead of him.
So we landed, we got into the flat, I changed and had to run to a photo shoot and interview with Easy Living magazine.
The hotel was in Cadogan Square in London and it was extremely posh, I mean seriously posh. I was wearing a green shirt and white linen trousers as it was so sunny. I imagined it would all be very low key, but when I got there there was a make up artist, a famous photographer, an assistant to that famous photographer and a journalist.
They got my
face done and took me up to one the expensive bedrooms and asked
me to lie down! I am not kidding the amount of camera and lighting
equipment in that room made me think finally I get to do a
So there I was
lying on a big posh bed with a crew standing round me staring at
the images that were coming up on a big computer screen as one guy
shouted Come on Janey, smile, turn round, give me some leg
action! It was so funny.
No it wasnt
a porn shoot, just a very posh photo shoot for this Conde Naste
magazine feature. Then we moved downstairs as I sat on the big plush
carpet, I was instructed to move, smile, not smile as a make up
girl fussed over my quickly disappearing lip gloss and annoyingly
It was really
tiring, and then I had to sit and do the interview which will be
featuring my book that goes to paperback in August.
By the time
I got back to husband I was ready to drop. I had still yet to write
the Nancy Del Ollio piece for BBC Radio 4 and compile an interview
that I am doing on BBC Radio 4 with Jo Frost The Supernanny
So this morning
I got up, started writing and then went to see Monicas new
flat in Chelsea, she has problems with the windows as they are painted
down, she was exploding with anger and shouting at the landlord,
meanwhile husband took a screw driver to the painted fixtures and
released the window and made Monica scream with happiness. See who
needs builders? just get a Glaswegian with a screw driver and all
windows will be prised!
So I am sitting here trying to work out what I will be saying at my opening night at the prestigious Soho theatre, wish me well please?