And tired of romance..........just step into a dustbin and dance.

Yes sound advice in the form of song from the late great Spike Milligan. A fine musician in his own right, he composed and performed the theme tune on arguably the greatest British Television show, the wonderful Q. Well no one apart from me and a select few are arguing the case that it was the greatest. Maybe the news has been the greatest programme ever especially when it's been an exciting news like the 6 day war or when somewhere gets flooded and people go down the high street on boats. Who's to say anything was the greatest. Some people think that Gavin and Stacey is the greatest programmes ever, mind you in my own humble opinion those people shouldn't be allowed a television. I don't know like what you like, it's about how you feel at the time. I've sometimes felt great and then watched 5 minutes of Gavin and Stacey and felt like killing my family before turning the AK47 that I bought down the Quayside on myself. To be fair I'd turn it over to Look Good Naked first.

 It's a bit like when someone says that Jim Baxter was the greatest ever footballer and say that they saw him and you didn't therefore you wouldn't know. Mind you have you seen that grainy footage of him playing keepy uppy on the halfway line at Wembley while Scotland are outclassing England the World champions and unbeaten since that afternoon the previous summer where 11 Englishmen and a bloke from the Soviet Union who admitted to cheating on his deathbed won the World cup that was so Mickey Mouse that Scotland had been invited to play in it but refused to go.

Aye nostalgia's not what it used to be however I can get nostalgic about last night because it was a great gig in Sheffield at The Last Laugh. They were up for it from the off. Until tonight where who knows it might turn to shit, I can say that I've always loved Sheffield. Actually I do love the place, it's a proper Northern town actually probably the most Southern Northern city in England geographically but a world away even though it's not too far from from those East Midland places like Derby, Nottingham and the deathly Leicester aaaaarrrggghh.

I'm back there tonight with the very funny Danny McCloughlin compering, Carl Hutchinson in the middle and Steve Royle closing. Actually Danny's not on, someone else will be compering. Get yourself down people of Sheffield, it's always a good night down there. Ha ha I sound like Tony Blackburn.

Right enjoy your Saturday people, don't let Paul Merson piss you off, he can't help it.

Oh by the way if you are feeling lonely and tired of romance, don't step in to a dustbin and dance, listen to the Spike Milligan Q theme tune and remember that comedy can be great when fucknutts aren't at the wheel. Here's the link:- 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DrWureyryhQ

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY BEDALE IN NORTH YORKSHIRE.

There's no such thing as bad teachers. That's the sentiment you get when you hear a teaching union man speaking about the latest alleged affrontary of making public sector workers get less wages in the downtrodden areas rather than the affluent places like the South East. There was a union man on the radio this morning. I say man, he sounded like he was in his twenties and had a faldy daldy voice, it's the faldy daldy voiced people that have ruined Britain, he was defending the fact that it takes up to a year to get rid of a bad teacher through red tape and no doubt union bureouocracy whereas a surgeon is struck off immediately for being shite. The government wants it to be reduced from a year to a term to get rid of bad teachers. I'll abstain on this one, I like my daughter's teachers, I'd say they're very good in the main, mind you that's in a Primary school.

Teachers do a difficult job and don't get paid that much lah di dah di doo day honk honk zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The union man also said that 97% of teachers are very good, there's only a tiny minority of poor teachers. The 3% of bad ones in my job end up on telly with their own series so maybe that's a novel way to deal with the poor ones, give them a bit of glory, loads of money and a regular slot on the chat show circuit. I'm only joking by the way about that 3% and I'll not mention anymore names ever again when it comes to bad things comedy wise. If you've come to this blog to hear me tearing cunts apart, I'm afraid you've come at the wrong time, there's been no more naming and shaming from about the beginning of last week.

If you want to blame anyone then blame some of the famous acts themselves. I've apparently had a go not at them but the programmes that they happen to go on and that isn't allowed in the Stalinesque world of British comedy, there are no bad comedy programmes, no bad sitcoms, chat shows, stand up shows, panel shows or comedy dramas. They're all great and the only cunts are the ones who have a go at planet humour on the airwaves.

I'll tell you who's good though and I've always thought so, Brendon Burns. I watched his show last night on Comedy Central from 2008 quite a while ago now and it was fast, funny, loud, punchy and other such cliches. I laughed a lot and some of it I'd seen before but was still funny hearing. The bloke is a natural performer and has a lot of natural charm as well as having a polemical edge. I don't think his face fit and that's why he didn't go further. I'd say that the identikit formula that's been worked out for the modern suit wearer with a writer in tow couldn't be used for a genuine maverick like Brendon Burns. Some people and that includes comics don't like him but the bloke got whacked a few times after gigs just because of his honest material. I've been there when people wanted to smash his face in. I've been there when a whole load of nicety nice couples just stared at him for 20 minutes. The man just couldn't be kept down, he travelled to gigs, did his shouting, invariably died on his arse but refused to change his style. Good on you Brendon. I've not got a lot in common with the bloke off the stage but I do like his work and he's one of the few that aren't a fake in this industry.

Where do the Brendon Burns' of this world go in this job? I hope he's still doing it in ten years from a purely selfish point of view just in the same way I hope that Half Man Half Biscuit are still recording witty songs with great tunes in ten years time. Keep on keeping on Brendon, I want to hear more about your take on the world right up until I'm an old man if I ever get there. Speak tomorrow, there's no such thing as BAD ranting comedians from Perth, Western Australia.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY ART GARFUNKEL. HE DIDN'T EVEN WRITE THE SONGS.

I must keep this brief due to a load of writing that needs done yesterday and then a writing meeting today and then yet more pondering on what I need for writing for another project later this afternoon.

To quote Joe South it would be nice to while away the hours in my ivory towers but I'm afraid I can't see a break to any of this until perhaps September of this year, just in time for the new season to start.

I do know that there was many a Jongleurs act who now have left stand up comedy when their previous empire went pop two or three years ago, that loved meeting up for lunch and enjoyed ordering kitchen staff about while complaining about their hotel. It never entered their head to do writing and they would've found it laughable to write a sitcom/screenplay/treatment/some jokes when they weren't getting paid for it. Indeed they would mock you for telling them that you were doing some writing while they were out dining and doing their favourite hobby, socialising and talking about themselves. I'm not naming anymore names, I would like to but unfortunately I'm bound and gagged now through my own choice. I got fucked over many a time by those selfish fuckers and when I do see some of the few survivors on Highlight bills (I don't play Jongleurs anymore) I realise that if the crowd are shite, they'll hand me the burning baton, if they happen to be good, they'll hog the bastard all gig and hand it on to me when they're all spent up and the crowd have had their fill.

Right it's time to go. I'm getting talked at by the missus, I've been roped into a dog walk, I've writing to do, a meeting to attend at 11 and then no let up till tea time. Speak tomorrow people. I'll get up especially early to do a good one.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY BOXING BOOTHS AT THE TOWN MOOR. YOU NEVER WANT TO WATCH NORMAL BOXING AGAIN. PROBABLY BANNED NOW.

That was always the phrase in the old days when a bloke coached the team and got his hands dirty with team affairs on a Monday to Thursday as opposed to a feller in a suit that behaved like a city slicker all week and said that it was 'their team' when they did well on a Saturday.

By the way sorry for no blog yesterday. It appears that there was one but that was Sunday's. The trouble was I forgot to publish it after writing it so sorry readers, it might happen again who knows but I don't deliberately do it. Yesterday I was so bloody busy with other journalistic endevours, poster-ing and then playing football for our comedian's football team (full report on the And In The Sport column) so the blog wasn't even in the back seat it was in the boot.

I'm a tracksuit comic, I mean first of all I don't usually wear a suit. Suits are for weddings and funerals and if you live outside Kenton Bar for christenings as well (aye that was a day where I stood out like a spare prick at a Jewish wedding!) and yes if you've got a formal do going on and would prefer to see me with a suit on, I'll reluctantly wear a suit. I've even been known to wear a penguin suit where, with my skinhead, I just looked like an out of shape bouncer. I might wear a comedy suit one day. I do like those very checky suits, some of the old Scottish comics like Hector Nichol or Chic Murray wore tartan check suits and sometimes Ken Dodd and Les Dawson wore the old John Bull Union Jack with waistcoat suits.

I like jacket potatoes, not cos they taste nice, I just like the formality of them that sets them apart from the cheaper looking dinners where the peeled potatoes don't care less and appear not to be proud to be of the potato race.

By the way good on Frankie Boyle for speaking out agains the Scottish government for banning secterian songs at old firm games. I've no time for bigotry and racism but some of these people have double standards. He quite rightly said that a way for them to solve Scotland's sectarian problem (by the way the SNP largely deny that there is a sectarian problem in Scotland, so why stop people singing ridiculous songs at football matches?!) would be to first of all stop religious segregation in schools. Also and this was the funniest part he pointed out that they don't stop middle class Scottsh rugby fans from singing anti English songs.

Aye and I bet all those fuckers wear suits from Monday to Friday. Speak tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY BONNIE TYLER. IF EVER SOMEONE HAD A CHIP SHOP FACE IT'S THAT LADY. I LIKE CHIP SHOPS THOUGH SO NO OFFENCE BONNIE.

Yes it's a reasonably accurate twat barometer when someone uses the phrase 'Strictly' rather than the full title of erm er whatever it's called, is it Strictly Come Dancing or has it got a celebrity title in there somewhere? Either way it's incredible how it passes as news in a time of turbulence in the world. Yes I'm sure you've had the same twats when referring to that show or X Factor or Britain's Got Talent saying 'After a hard day at work people just want to sit down and watch a bit of entertainment', well I'd say that's why we don't have a Beatles, a Who or a Clash anymore. It's also why we don't have the same clubs and societies that we once had. I'd say that the showbiz establishment like to think that they're sleepwalking us into a consumer group utopia and they're probably correct in that assumption to a point.

We must resist though. First thing we must all do is lie on every survey we take part in. Whether it's for Yardley, Bic pens or for going to Frankie and Benny's. Whether it's some faldy daldy woman in the street or a message sent online or a rah rah on the phone, for fuck's sake tell them all whoppers. Market research is something George Orwell would've written a novel about and it's great to be part of the resistance. Apart from anything else, extensive research tells us all what we may have expected, I mean Barbera Streisand is going to sell more tickets in Brighton than what she is in Aberdeen whereas the opposite may be true of The Still Game live show. Yes I don't know how I know this, I'm such a visionary!

It wasn't a knocking bet that last night's Assembly would sell more than the previous week but it actually did. And after a shitty balls weekend in Birmingham where Highlight was what it was but after three Stand weeks on the bounce, felt like doing a social club, it was great to be back at Assembly doing a nice show on a casual Sunday night. The crowd were good, they were up for it and joined in with the spirit of the show, I say show, sort of chaos at the moment with a few regular items but I'm certain it will become something in time. Meat draws and comedy quizzes aren't 'Strictly' but at least my audience (32 payers last night against 8 or 9 million viewers) did get off their arses on a cold Sunday night on Tyneside and got themselves into the centre of town to watch the show.

Thanks to Alan Fletcher, a new act from Belfast for doing a good job, thanks to Tony Jameson for opening and doing another good job and thanks to Stefan Peddie for closing the show and doing a good solid set at the end. He has a great routine about Night Owls and Alan Robson that struck a big chord with the crowd. That's what we need, thanks lads and here's to more good nights.

Right I've more journalistic work to do. Speak tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY PEOPLE THAT DON'T PARK PROPERLY AND THUS STOP YOU FROM PARKING IN THE ONLY AVAILABLE SPACE IN THE CAR PARK. WELL DONE KNACKERS, AND WHAT DO THE SOUTH AMERICAN GENERALS THE TRAFFIC WARDENS DO ABOUT THAT, I TELL YOU WHAT FUCK ALL!!! 

Here I am in the petrol head's paradise and in time honoured Brum fashion, I'm stuck on a roundabout at Paradise Circus. Always a fancy name for a piece of soulless concrete holding together a big concrete planet in the heart of England, it's a bit like Queen's underpass or Aston Expressway and who could ever forget Spaghetti junction. They say heart of England, it would appear that the heart is the wrong way round as the heart of England would have to be somewhere like Peterborough and not slightly to the left or west as is the case of this place with the heavy metal, Rover cars and the humourous accent. Good job it's not Peterborough, I've never been to such a rubbish place in all of my life, it's no wonder some of these crappy towns hate Scousers and Geordies and such like, it's because there's fuck all that these bloody places have got architechturally or culturaly that could ever make their own people ever feel proud.

Not Birmingham mind you, I've always liked the place and the people. It's got a rich history of invention and folks with a great sense of self depricating humour. One of my best pals in comedy is a Brummie Andy Robinson, well he's probably toward the black country but I've always been a huge fan of Frank Skinner and the one and only Jasper Carrott one of the few comedy heroes I've still got left. Anyway I'll be sick of the fuckin place by tonight no doubt after walking up and down Broad Street aimlessly for ages. More canals than Venice. Aye so stick that up your arse you quasi fascist wankers who cheat at football.

The gig last night was just about passable. I was playing well, the crowd were a little slow, some of them were well into it, others not so but not a bad effort for an early January job I'd say. A great bill mind you. Captain James Cook as compere which set the tone, he's a humourous feller, Tommy Campbell was opening and the infectiously likeable Paul Sinha in the middle. He's a funny comic and a nice bloke as is Tommy. The three of us had a drink afterwards and then then a fuckwitt bloke from downstairs told us we couldn't be there anymore. His manner was fuckin ridiculous. No one had called time or told us we couldn't be drinking in an empty room upstairs but this tit with the black outfit and Russian spy coat and a noughties accent told us we had to go downstairs without any explination. He was everything what's wrong with this country and we promptly left and had a drink in the hotel. That was going well till some moron came and sat with us who I instantly realised was another cunt. This was my cue to end the night and I got a decent sleep. Hazards of the job or just an island chock full of monkeys, I'll let you be the judge.

Right same bill tonight and then home and then Assembly tomorrow. Do come down if you're vaguely near Newcastle. Speak tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY BEAU GESTE. 1939 CLASSIC. 

Not much to report on the gig front last night. Fourth night in a row without work which very much sums up the love hate relationship a comedian has with the job. I'm back tonight but I bet it'll be hard fuckin work at Highlight Birmingham.

All I can say is that last night myself and John Scott watched a few episodes of 'It Aint Half Hot Mum' on DVD. We laughed like drains. It was bloody funny. One of the most underrated nay forgotten sitcoms. Croft and Perry get praise heaped on them and rightly so for Dad's Army, they get appreciated for Hi De Hi, You Rang M'lud, Oh Doctor Beeching and Are You Being Served and I can't think why really, they were a bit mediocre at best, but It Aint Half Hot Mum is a hidden diamond in the rough. I remember it as a kid but didn't appreciate the subtleties.

The first thing people will scream is that it's un PC and that it belongs in the wheelie bin of Television history with it's casual racism. This couldn't be further from the truth from what I've seen in the last week or so of watching episodes at random. The ruling class ie the upper class high ranking bods and the like are all idiots, they're greedy bastards that like to keep the Indians in their place. They also like to keep the working class concert party privates in their place. The Sergeant Major played stupendously by the great Windsor Davies is an idiot as well, he is a buffoon and gets found out to be one on every show. The Indians themselves manage to out think the military every time during scrapes in the episode. It often involves the natives concocting a way of making money under the noses of the British Army that see them as basic char wallahs. Also the one liners are shit hot and to link the scenes, the popular old music hall songs and film scores of the day are sung by one of the Indian cast on a sittar.

Right I've loads to do today. Keep the home fires burning. Speak tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY THE HERBIE FILMS OF THE 70s.

Shall I start with football? Fuck it it's my blog why not! Well we've had a few great victories in recent years against this club before, 4-3, 3-0 and the legendary 5-0 back in 96 but this one was as sweet as ever. In my non complacent nature (something you grow up with supporting the Mags), I'd say that we've now done enough to stay up which is a start. This could yet be a bad month though especially if fatty decides that he'll take 20 million for Cabaye or Tiote but it's great to savour a win against a club with a bunch of faldy daldy fans who insist on singing songs about Alan Shearer even though he hung up his boots years ago. It's a song that doesn't even rhyme and methinks they doth protest too much. Being turned down is something big corporations don't like. How could anyone possibly not want to play for Manchester United? Sorry 'United' as the commentators call them when they're playing another team with United as their second name. Ha ha 3-0 though, let's enjoy this while it lasts!

Anyway I won't go on about it too much as I know there are 'United' fans that read this from places vaguely near Manchester, yes it does exist! I couldn't go to the game last night as I had a gig in town at The Stand. Parking could well have been a nightmare as of course this particular United has a ground in the city centre, the very heartbeat of a great city and not a goal kick deflected into the net from the Bigg Market-sorry that's the last one I promise. It was a last minute thing as Chris Ramsay had a problem with his boiler and no that's not a euphemism. It was the Red Raw night which appears to be doing alright as it goes and I closed it. John Scott was the compere and quite a few local turns had been on before. It was a nice reaction rather than a one that went through the roof but I got a lot of new stuff out which is imperative for the year ahead.

This morning I was listening to Radio Newcastle. It was the BBC so it was doing that BBC thing where in it's quest to be as impartial as possible, it looked like they were regimented in saying that the texts between liking and hating were almost exactly equal. A 'for' phonecall was immediately followed by an 'against' phonecall. Two words Running Scared. I'm talking of course about the bio pic or fantasy piece or wankathon call it what you will about Mrs Thatcher that's out in the cinemas this week.

I can't truncate Thatcher and her legacy down to one paragraph and why would anyone want divine inspiration of her from a fat bloke from Blaydon? Listening though pissed me off so much that I had to switch off. The 'fans' of Thatcher talked the usual talk of unions wanting to run the country and how she sorted them out. They point to Nissan which in point of fact was made possible just as much by many a councillor from Sunderland and opposition MPs as it was the Conservative government at the time, this of course never gets mentioned by her supporters who enjoy rewriting history the same way as the leftist playwrites do. Another word that got wheeled out lots of times was patriot. 'Thatcher was a great patriot' they cry as if it were some kind of checkmate to your argument. Ironic really when you look at what is happening in Scotland. There'll be no United Kingdom in Ten years. What do you blame that on? A) Braveheart  B) Jim Baxter or C) Margaret Hilda Thatcher. Answers on a lump of coal.

Aye the pits debate rages on and I'm glad Labour are getting found out now in the context of recent history. It was correctly pointed out that Labour closed more pits which of course is true, however what was done to those communities or rather what was not done will be measured by the outpouring of joy in those former mining towns of Northumberland and County Durham when she finally snuffs it.

One feller from Sunderland (an ex military man but I don't want to judge) said that these changes she made were imperative and he put the question out, would anyone want their son to go 'down a pit' or 'down a shipyard' these days. Wow in all these years, I never realised you went 'down a shipyard'!! I'll admit that river banks are relatively 'downhill' and that you do at times work in the bowels of the ship when you're welding up double bottoms and the like but fuck me don't tell me that people got horrific diseases and conditions cos they worked in a shipyard!! Yes welding and quaterburning aren't the most healthy of jobs and that applies to people around those pieces of equipment but in the main it's a good job with a decent safety record. I'd much rather do it than go to bloody Fanatic-astan and get my arse blown off!! I'd certainly like it more than to sit in an office and share part of my life with cunts or sit on my arse on the dole smoking 30 Bensons a day and buying cheap lager at nights which I think you'll find happens in these former shipyard areas.

Anyway that was more than a paragraph but I think you get my standpoint. Mrs T is loved by Southerners and is respected abroad as some kind of saviour, a bit like Man. United I suppose. Come on everyone 'We support our local team'. Vote Northumbrian in the next election. Speak tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY THE FICTIONAL 'BLOCKERBOOTS' ON A CHILDREN'S PROGRAMME BACK IN 1975.

It's time to get back to the grind again. That does seem a bit weird to say that after having my first night off in over a week and my first run of four days off since probably Spring of last year. I'm gonna do very little in the evenings at this point but during the day I've got writing, rehearsing, admin work (that's a great phrase John Scott invented and I've took it to my heart, it covers a multitude of sins) and playing football to keep me fit. As I've said before, I see the comedy year as something that starts on September 1st and ends (if you're there) at the Edinburgh fringe the following August. I've never seen the new year as some sort of ground zero or a new beginning. However I'd like to state on record that I'm going to work harder this calender year more than any other year I've been involved in comedy. Not through it being a fresh start but just by the workload I've got coming up that I'll tell you about in the next few weeks.

One of the things I really need to make a proper stab of is my residency every Sunday in Newcastle at The Stand. Last night was fantastic. There were 15 paying punters and a few comics on their nights off but they were a fantastic 15 and it was funny hearing the comics laughing at the 'deliverence' of it all behind a curtain near the sound man. It was literally 6 couples all sitting together and then three posh but weird looking fellers rolled in. They made the gig. They sat at the front and were great value all the way through. First up was Sean Turner who talked himself into a bad gig. I thought some of his stuff was terrific and he's got a funny voice. Ah well, I hope he comes back and does it again. I'd like to see more heed the ball acts on the show, it makes the night. After that Andy Fury came on and was as good as ever. He's a funny feller with some great stuff. After the break I did some more new stuff that worked but failed miserably with a song I wrote. Not to worry, it's Assembly not everything works, that's what will make it a show. Susan Murray closed and had a fine time. People were well up for it and that is surely 15 that'll be back at some point. Indeed two of them had already been so I might just get a bit of repeat in the next few weeks.

By all means get along to Assembly (check the listings), it's on every Sunday, come to see me at Birmingham Highlight at the weekend if you're in the West Midlands but most of all get yourself a ticket to my show at The Journal Tyne Theatre on the 2nd of March. It should be a great night and I'm working towards it now.

Right I must go I've got shed loads (whatever the fuck that phrase means) to do. Speak tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY TED HEATH. HE HELD A GRUDGE FOR YEARS BUT STILL LIVED A LONG TIME SO IT ISN'T NECESSARILY A BAD THING.

 We were discussing this subject last night in the dressing room. Dressing room?!! If you've ever been to the Stand Glasgow you'll know that that's a contradiction in terms, it's more like a nuclear bunker in a 1980s post holocaust series on BBC2 with a low budget. One of the acts (I'm not saying who, as I say I'm very rarely going to name people now!) was going to pack it all in and concentrate on writing and acting. I've always said that there's no shame in packing in and walking away. If Gadaffi had done that he'd still be alive today. If he'd walked away and then waited a few years, he'd have got himself an agent and would've been a guest on one of Jonathon Ross' latest TV vehicles in five years like 'Jonathon Ross has some new friends and has subsequently ditched the old ones cos they're not famous enough now'. I'd actually watch that show. On the show will be a kid I'll probably meet this year. He'll largely ignore me because he'll be on his phone updating his twitter and trying to recruit new fans by explaining that he's in a dressing room at the moment and there's a 'random' bowl of crisps on the table and they'll all be following his crazy lifestyle. 

I would pack in but I've got too many bills to pay. 'If these older acts aren't enjoying it then why don't they just pack in and let the younger ones come through' said one of the young make up wearing acts to me once in a dressing room in Hornchurch. Ironic really because even though he was compering, he wanted to go home because he was 'fucked' and asked me if I'd like to close the show. Lazy, part time, overprivileged cunt  Imagine if my grandfather had said to his gaffer 'I'm thinking of packing this labouring in, I mean making pit arches to keep the seams of the local mines up, it's lost it's novelty and to be honest boss, I'm just not enjoying it anymore, I thought I'd let one of the younger underweight, rickett infested kids have a go'.

Am I turning grumpy or am I just opening my eyes? Fuck now Coldplay has come on, just what you don't want to hear in a cafe when it's wet and fuckin miserable. Glqasgow is like someone's faded T shirt that's been in the wash too many times. Either that or an early effort at colour television. I'm expecting Open University to come on or a repeat of Softly Softly first broadcast in 1971.

The penultimate night was perhaps the best night. It was nearly great. Marred slightly through mouthy women talking through large parts of my set. Apparently they weren't for the previous acts, I wasn't watching the rest of the show I was watching Newcastle's yearly defeat at Anfield in the pub next door, but I was told they'd been well behaved. Had they had one too many drinks or was it the fact that I wasn't really holding their attention? I'll never know, however they'll have forgotten about the whole bloody night by now. They'll be on the phone to eachother asking what they're wearing tonight for the get together in one of their houses with a chocolate cake, some vodka and MTV channel flicking.

Can I sum up the year in one paragraph? I'll try. More war, more spin on why we're at war. More trade war. Emerging economies dwarfing Europe which teeters on the brink. A recession and a government telling us that we're all in this together. Aye two thirds of the cabinet are multi millionaires. It appears though that on one gives a shit when one of the breaking news stories on Five Live as I drove down the M1 this year was that there was going to be a new Bond film coming out. I don't think I like this country anymore.

Comedy wise it was much of the same. Now run like football and popular music by the big boys with their stadiums, sponsors and awards. With that comes their own made up hierarchy which means that they can decide who the next big star can be, especially when they have their fingers in the pies of agenting, production and most importantly commissioning. There's several of them and peversely they all help eachother. I have to hand it to them, they've moved the goalposts so much that it's now just a licence for them to ammass wealth. The words money and old rope spring to mind.

Who needs money though. When I hear more about some of the people I worked with on the circuit and their paranoia they allegedly have now with their new found fame, I'm sort of happy to be able to walk to Wallsend to get a paper without anyone turning their heads. Maybe one or two might say, that's that cunt who kicks people on the Monday night football league at Burnside, silly fat twat.

By the way my highlight of the year was doing The Ryton Towns Womens Guild sketch with Laura Norton, the best female comedy performer I've ever seen and she's not even a comic. The whole of Jesting About was a highlight as was the one off gig I did at The Journal Tyne Theatre last March. Some gigs this year have hit stonkingly good heights. Edinburgh a couple of weeks ago was one of those great moments. There was the Edinburgh run itself which was the best yet in terms of ticket sales and crowd reaction and one of the late shows that went cosmic did make me feel like a legend one night. The best bit of the mad three weeks was not allowing Julian Hall into the venue to do a reviw and subsequently it was terrific to NOT be reviewed by Chortle. I've met many people and had great nights at the gigs I've done even on the ordinary nights. Getting a weekly residency at The Stand was another moment as well. First night and 100+ people in the place was a fuckin joy as well.

There's not been many lows professionally. I knew a few years ago that I wasn't for the TV circuit so getting none in 2011 isn't a surprise. I'd missed that gravy train back in the day. Well I didn't miss it but got on the local service by mistake instead of the high speed inter city and then got off at Huntingdon. Aye I realised that that game was up in about 2004-05 but it may have made me something fuckin grotesque and I'm certain that I wouldn't be getting telly anymore, I'd be replaced by someone else younger, slimmer and more acceptable looking in a suit.

Here's to a good 2012. I honestly just want my family to be healthy and happy, for yours to be as well and for there to be a peaceful settlement to all military conflicts. This though is not why you fuckers click into this free service every day. And that's where I'll end the review of the year. This blog seems to be getting me into trouble. People have told me it's better if I don't write it. They say I'll lose work. I'll be honest, after some of the proper tragic moments I've had in my life and think of people very close to me that have died young and that I still miss greatly, I can't see that upsetting a few cunts is going to affect my well being and quality of my retirement if I ever get there.

Anyway happy new year people. Speak tomorrow or next year if you want to get all vicar sense of humour about it. That's right I'm not packing this in!

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY WHO ELSE ON NEW YEAR'S EVE BUT ANDY STEWART!!!!!

Whereas up in the North East of England you have to add to expects the words 'fuck all' at the end of it. If you expect nothing then anything at all on the horizon is a bonus. I know it's a bit of an Alan Bleasdale start to the blog today, I'm just a bit hungover and feeling a bit knackered so apologies oh small-ish readership because of the time of year.

Last night never really kicked over. Compared to Newcastle and Edinburgh, it's all been a bit flat this week. The first gig I did in Bishopbriggs was surprisingly good, I enjoyed it and it was a good bill as well with myself opening, Stu Who in the middle and the very strong Gary Little closing. After that I headed down to The Stand and closed the show. They were into it a bit but my fast work never got the engine moving. It never quite started purring and I left to an appreciative round of applause and a few whoops but no real affection. Never mind, it's nights like that where you get some fans for life so who knows.

It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll sang Bon Scott in the early days of AC/DC, however I'd say the everlasting Mediocre Dual Carriageway occasionally going down to single lanes with diversions is a lot longer if you wanna do comedy. I'm nearly 20 years in now and I still don't know whether I'm really funny or not. I'd like to think even the very best people and the very mainstream and piss poor people all question themselves and I still do daily but one thing though, I would've never expected after getting up on stage with Eric Scarboro in Summer 1992 at The Cumberland Arms, that I'd be contemplating my future in comedy at the end of 2011. Funny how life works out.

Football supporters tend not to see the year as starting on January 1st like the rest of the population or April 6th like Accountants and Auditors do, rather September just after everyone's been on holiday and the kids go back to school. However this has been another interesting year for me and who knows next year could have a few more surprises, hopefully more good than bad.

I might do a big review of the year tomorrow or say who my favourite comedians are or what the best gigs were but I'll leave that to people like Chortly Daily Mail man who enjoys his taste arbitration vanity projects and likes to remind people that he travels the world and gets invited to comedian's weddings and stuff. He even likes to pretend that he interviewed me this year. NO YOU DIDN'T, I'D RATHER DO AN INTERVIEW ON SONGS OF FUCKIN PRAISE!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway folks enjoy the penultimate day of a turbulent year, I'll be on better non hungover form tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY HIBS 7-0 AWAY WIN AT HEARTS BACK IN 1973 ON NEW YEAR'S DAY I BELIEVE. YOU CAN STILL BUY T SHIRTS OF IT IN LEITH EVEN NOW.

 I believe it's a Scottish word that describes the weather we're having today in Scotland's biggest city. It was proper pissing down as I was driving down the extremely ponsy Byers Road earlier. I was looking for a Lloyds TSB but didn't even venture out of the car, it was that miserable.

Sorry about a zero blog day yesterday, I was back and forward between cities and going to pantomimes and doing gigs. I'm going to try and manage my time better in the new year. Tuesday night was a great gig, it hit great heights however last night was very flat. No one did great really and I picked up the slack at the end and kept it fairly slack. My cousin commented that it was my greatest hits which wasn't meant with any malice however it made me feel a bit hack-ish. Ha ha I've felt hack-ish throughout my career, it's called making a living and sometimes your reliability can get you out of some pretty bad spots when a comic with no jokes that passes it off as whimsy comes unstuck.

I think because of the Old Firm game, none of my crowd were in ie bunches of blokes. I'm not saying I'm a laddy comic (plenty of critics did in the 90s, I'm still here you bastards @Steve McQueen 'Pappillon') but it helps when you get gadgies guffawing at the surrealness. Rah rahs don't do surreal, I've always noticed that, they see silly lines as exactly that and they certainly don't take to people with shipyard accents doing daftie jokes.

Hopefully tonight will go to a good level. I'm not going to comment on the rest of the bill, it's just something I won't do anymore, it's not worth the fuckin hassle. It turns out someone else has got upset about my blog comments and refuses to keep in touch. It turns out I've never even slagged him off, just some of the TV shows that he goes on. I checked back and as it happens I talked him up lots of times. Ah well, will it threaten my TV work? No. Why? I didn't have a TV profile to start with so they can't bust something that was leaking ten years ago before it ever got blown up properly, it's a bit like during the miner's strike when strikers threatened the families of people who were black legging, they couldn't really threaten the single blokes who had fuck all to lose. That's right by the way professional lefties, striking miners threatened working miner's children. I'm a proud Thatcher hater but they don't tell you that in the little plays they do in the Yuri Gagarin Theatre in the scene where the mother cries and the fatha dies and the brother has a heart attack and the son gets arrested for hitting a scab cos it got too much, oh aye and the son does ballet.  

It seems that free speech is frowned upon in this industry unless you're giving people high praise. Kim Jong Il lives and it's the enemy within showbusiness. Aye you can have that TV career here at the BBC as long as you do Comic Relief. Fuckin subjects of the children of Lord Reith the lot of them, no one speak out for fuck's sake, we might lose our panel shows!! Ha ha if you look at some of the horrible comments I've had on YouTube, Chortle and many other on line forums, you can tell that some of them have been written by bitter comedians, probably open spots, the difference being that they haven't got the bollocks to reveal who they actually are and I bet they're not all open spots.

Right I really am going now. Come and see me if you're in Glasgow, come to Assembly on Sunday night at The Stand Newcastle and don't forget, get a ticket for my show at The Journal Tyne Theatre on March 2nd. Details on my home page. Speak tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY HEMMELLING LAGER.

 Are you sick of your aunty Maureen yet? I've never had an aunty Maureen and I don't know anyone that has but you get my drift. It's time, especially if you're in the Glasgow area to come out and leave the casually racist, backward fucks (cos most families have people like that) and go out to The Stand in Woodlands Road in the posh west end and see some Hogmanay shows. I can't remember who I'm on with cos as you know if you regularly read the blog, I don't do research it wastes time, however they'll be great nights in a great club.

I've not seen anything out of this world on the christmas schedules this year. Probably the best I'd say was Absolutely Fabulous. I'm not a huge fan but it's a funny sitcom. Apart from that I can't think of anything. That Mrs Brown's Boys christmas special was on last night and was a bit sugary without any irony, I mean for fuck's sake! I have laughed at the jokes in earlier shows and found it a breath of fresh air but I'm starting now to think the same as Michael Legge that they've just found the Rentaghost scripts and are recycling them with diddley dee accents. I think that feller's run out of steam already, I stand corrected if the next series is good and fair play he writes them all albeit with a good helping of old music hall jokes. You can imagine the middle class, repressed execs at the BBC have probably never heard these jokes and think Brendan O Carroll is some sort of latter day Eddie Braben. Ah well at least he can walk down the street without hassle unless he dresses as Mrs Brown.

Right I'm a busy man now so enjoy your 27th. This period between christmas and new year I feel is an underrated time, I love it. Enjoy it citizens and if you're in the Clydeside area, get yourself down to The Stand. In fact if you're in Edinburgh and Newcastle, go to their shows as well. Speak tomorrow.

TODAY'S BLOG IS SPONSORED BY MIKE YARWOOD. I WONDER WHAT THE FUCK HE DOES AT CHRISTMAS NOW?!!!

It's not the Queen's speech, nor is it the King's speech. I'm not Camrade Webster, that would be a George Galloway-ism. I'm not your mate Gav either. I was once introduced on stage in a place called Sunniside by Mike Milligan as 'my mate Gav', that was a particular career low.

No I'm speaking to you today simply because I know a hard core of you will tune in. Hits have been through the bastard roof recently. I'm blogging to a new popularity level and it's like some sort of monster I've created that I can't stop. All I can say is thanks and Merry Christmas readers. I know it's the level of a bog wall at times and a bog wall in Middlesbrough Railway Station or some sidings near Motherwell or somehwere else equally uninspiring (cue complaints from people from Teesside who read this tawdry shite and take it seriously), however you seem to like it.

Merry Christmas even to the people who've robbed my jokes, just for this festive period help yourself to them. Mind you come January I'll be clamping down hard on people so enjoy this oasis of festive cheer.

Merry Christmas to all the promoters in the land even the people who don't book me. Merry Christmas to my agent and everyone in the large agency I work with (it's from the back of a van in London).

To the comedians I like, have a great one, to the ones I tolerate (you probably tolerate me even less) season's greetings. To the ones who don't like me, have a great day and a great tomorrow. Oh and there's the failed comedians, I'm of course talking about the critics, glad tidings of joy, hope you enjoy your Christmas on different levels and that it's not a well worn subject that there isn't an original take on. Remember if everyone else in the room likes it, to please mention it and not say that everyone hated it because you didn't get it.

Finally to all friends and family and everyone I've played football with apart from those potato based kids from a knacker estate (the 6 a side lads know what I'm talking about). Hope you're having a shit time you cunts!! 6TH OF FEBRUARY CAN'T WAIT, I START TRAINING FOR IT ON THE 27TH!!

Right I'm gonna eat some dinner now. Don't tell your granny to fuck off!!

MERRY FUCKIN CHRISTMAS.