Yes, it is the end of the year. That time when we look back
and think…screw that… I am looking forward!
I am NOT looking back to see what I could have done
differently, I refuse to mull over old shit and worry about it. I am old enough
now to just look ahead!
I have just discovered the delights of PS3- Ashley got it
for Christmas and I love watching her play, I may even try to do it myself. The
last time I played a ‘video’ game was at the Weavers Inn pub in the early 90s.
It was a space invader game and the sound effects made me nervous, so I am not
that great at them but am willing to give it a go.
I was watching Ashley create a digital image of herself on
the PS3, then she entered this digital city centre and seemed to ‘run’ around
meeting strange folk who wanted to either fuck her or swap sex files with her,
not much different from real life I suppose. Except that smart city scape
looked very clean and didn’t have dog shit or have drunks vomiting into unattended
baby buggies. There was no mini bingo, sunbeds shops or a chipvan so I reckoned
it wasn’t anywhere in Scotland that they used as the template for the virtual
Though everyone who was online and in virtual form in her
strange online city seemed to be obsessed with her vagina or they were
desperate to show her online cams with their cock out. They all looked sexy and
young in their virtual image as well. Well, not all were sexy, there was one
man dressed as an armadillo with three swords over his back constantly chasing
her shouting about his penis. I wanted to climb into the telly and kick his
I told her to ‘get out of that town quickly’ and go play
space invaders instead.
I suspect the online world of meeting virtual strangers is
liberating for people who like rape, fucking dogs and punching babies…I wish
Ashley wouldn’t go back to that strange game she was in. I may introduce her to
real life needle point, you rarely meet an armadillo dressed man who carries
pictures of his erect cock in the world of cross stitching, cushion making and
Why don’t they invent a video game where you have to learn
to set up direct debits, manage a budget, shop for a mortgage and understand
house management? That would be more conducive to young people instead of running
about chatting about your titties on live cam and could actually teach you
stuff that makes sense!
Or maybe I am just really old and need to get with the
Happy New Year everyone and may 2010 be the best ever for
We are about to go into 2010, how was the last decade for
you? Here are the highlights of my last decade.
2000- I watched the Millennium firework display on a balcony
overlooking the Thames in London on the eve of the year 2000 with my daughter
Ashley, she was the youngest stand up comic in 1999 and was finishing the year
by retiring from stand up- she was 13 years old.
I was running a comedy club at Mansions Café Bar in
Glasgow’s West End, it was great fun but it closed suddenly due to non payment
of bills or tax problems, whichever is easier to believe.
My cousin Sammy died due to infected heroin.
2001- I hopped over to NZ and did the Comedy Festival for
the first time. I ran a comedy club in London at The Atlantic Bar, it closed
due to the terror attacks in New York on September 11th, which
resulted in a lack of tourists or non payment of bills & tax problems,
which ever is easier to believe, you decide.
No one died, in my family.
2002- I returned to New Zealand comedy festival and won Best
Concept Show; I also went to Edinburgh Fringe and got no reviewers through the
door, but sold out the ten day run. Ashley passed loads of exams which made me
think she was adopted.
The Gilded Balloon venue in Edinburgh burnt down, due to non
payment of bills or an accident which ever is easier to believe.
2003- My baby niece Abi was born and made us all smile.
I did my first full length show at Edinburgh Fringe and
performed my first serious play which I wrote called ‘Point of Yes’ at the
It never closed or burnt down, which made me suspicious of
I had all the comedy award Perrier panel into my comedy
show, but they deemed me to be ‘making all look too easy and not sticking to
the same show everyday and improvising too much’ so after much debating they
chose not to nominate me and instead told me to theme my shows and stick to
them. I was offered a book deal with Random House and wrote what became my best
Nobody died and nothing burnt down, but a man tried to jump
off a building during the fringe and I talked him down, he later set fire to
his house, so that was mildly interesting, he hadn’t paid his bills.
2004- Ashley turned 18 and left school to have a year out,
she passed all her exams and that made me proud and further convinced she
wasn’t my child. She then became a DJ, a care worker, a catering assistant, a
shop floor worker and a secretary, she hated all of that and decided to go to
I took a show called Good Godley to the Edinburgh fringe and
it got hordes of FIVE star reviews, everyone liked me for a short while.
It tackled subject matter about death, child abuse and
gangsters and was called confessional comedy. Some comics mocked it but it did
become a specific genre at the Fringe later on in the decade.
People who never spoke to me crossed roads to say hello, it
was an odd experience. My book was finished and the publishers were happy with
I went on a TV reality show called Kings of Comedy on
channel 4 and managed to grab Russell Brands face live on telly, because he was
being awfully annoying and loud. But he is a nice man, he was just shouting in
my ear. I learned that reality TV and sober people don’t really go hand in
hand. I started writing my blog.
I did my first run at the Soho Theatre in London and
appeared on 100 Greatest Christmas Moments on Channel 4 and I did Glastonbury
for the first time.
A plastics factory near me exploded, many people died and I
was so close to the event I took photos of it and they made the front page of
The Glasgow Evening Times.
2005- My book was published and made it to number 3 in the
Sunday Times best seller list. I did a show at the Edinburgh Fringe called
‘Janey Godley is Innocent’ it got great reviews but some people didn’t like it
because I didn’t have anyone killed in the show, who knew?
I also took my play the Point of Yes to the Soho Theatre.
I appeared on BBC radio 4 ‘Loose Ends’ and met the late
great Ned Sherrin. Ashley started University and studied screen play writing.
Nothing burnt down but the amazing Godfather of Comedy
Malcolm Hardee died in London.
2006- My daughter and I took 3 shows to the Edinburgh
Fringe, a sketch show, that we both performed, my one woman play ‘Point of Yes’
and my stand up show ‘Blog Live’. We also did Glastonbury again.
Ashley and I toured New Zealand together and had great fun
on the road. Reviews were good and I appeared on BBC radio 4s ‘Just a Minute’.
My favourite printer Tam made all the posters, but had been printing his own
cash (again) on the side, that ended badly. My wee niece Julia was born.
I was nominated Scotswoman of the Year, but lost out to a
No one died and nothing burnt down.
2007- My favourite printer Tam became famously known world
wide as Hologram Tam (due to his expertise in making bank notes) got caught and
put in prison. I was photographed by the cops going into his shop late at night
during their long stake out. I needed to find a new printer, and I did.
I landed my weekly column in The Scotsman newspaper.
I performed my play and my comedy show off Broadway at the
Bleeker Street Theatre and performed 2 shows at Edinburgh fringe, called Janey
Godley’s Chat Show and ‘Tell it Like it is’, both got five star reviews.
No one died and nothing burnt down.
2008- I won the Fringe report award; I won Nivea Funny woman
and my Edinburgh show Domestic Godley went great guns. I got my haircut,
stopped smoking for three weeks and tried not to fight with everyone in three
mile vicinity. I also headed back to NZ comedy festival and got nominated best
international guest. No one died and nothing burnt down.
2009- At the start of the year, I appeared in the Scottish
soap on TV called River City, it was great fun and scary. I headed back to NZ
and got nominated again and met Wayne Brady who was presenting the Gala TV show
we were on. I dressed up as Susan Boyle and asked him “Are you Kanye West?” he
pretended not to know Susan Boyle and we all giggled at him behind his arrogant
back. I had a great time with my comedy show Godley’s World at Edinburgh
Life got difficult for us all as my step mum died and left a
huge hole to be filled in all our lives. The good news is nothing burnt down.
I don’t have a Christmas rush, because I take time to go buy
food we want to eat on the ‘big day’ and contrary to popular belief, shops
DON’T run out of stuff. My problem is having time to organise myself and the
work, and the amazing evil deathly snow didn’t help.
Luckily I was based in Glasgow for most of December, no
flapping off to foreign climes for me during the season, just good old Glasgow!
Usually husband & I are snugly ensconced in a serviced flat in Leeds,
Nottingham or Canada around this time of year as I do my comedy thing, but this
year I stayed home and did local gigs.
Mainly because my dad is spending his first December as a
widower, we lost mum early this year. It has had a devastating effect on him,
luckily my dad has an awesome step family who care and love him. I do my bit by
turning up, chasing squirrels from his wheelie bin or convincing him that one
mouse does not equate an invasion. Sometimes we talk about stuff, or I have to
cancel Virgin media yet again as he managed to go on the phone and instead of
ordering one football match to watch he gets charged for a whole months worth.
I love him, he is hilarious at times and his tales of old make me giggle.
His penchant for leaving the house during a snow storm to go
for a newspaper makes me want to send him to punchy town, but he was a hard
Glasgow steel worker and doesn’t see why he can’t handle a bit of slush!
I have yet to work out why he is obsessed by his wheelie
bin, but I suppose that might take a therapist and some dolls to get through
My best mate Monica was stuck in Milan airport for three
days due to the thick freeze over Europe. Husband drove me through to Edinburgh
to do a few gigs, and the drive home was so scary, I wrote a note and placed it
in my jacket which stated “My name is Janey Godley, if you find me in a car
accident please contact (my pals name and number) and tell her to contact my
daughter”. I started to freak out thinking that if we both get badly injured
the police would go to my home and Ashley would have to deal with it herself, I
don’t want her ever to go through that. I worried what would happen to her if
we both died in a car crash!
But it felt like a sure thing in that snowy road.
Our car was sliding all over the road and giant belches of
dense fog smacked against the car like flour bombs as it plummeted through the
dark winding part of the M8 motorway. The frozen white trees looked skeletal
and eerie as the car lights flashed on them through the darkness.
I was terrified; every muscle in my body was tensed for the
whole journey there and back. I was like a coiled spring when I got home.
Luckily and clearly we both survived, but we passed loads of
stranded cars and a few accidents.
So last week I went up to Easterhouse to see my old pal
Janie, she is awesome fun; I have known her for over 30 years.
Both of us headed up to the big shopping mall near her home,
we saw a swan stuck in the ice.
I offered to go free it and she told me “Don’t they are evil
and can bite the face off you, I know a woman who got her eye taken out by a
swan, they can peck their way out of the ice, it’s a Scottish swan”
I watched as the swan batted giant white wings, throwing up
a flurry of snow and run towards me, it hissed and tried to bite my leg. It was
an evil swan indeed. Yet looked magical with the frosted snow scene all around
it, it was a big Narnia angry beast. Janie was right yet again, she knows
We went food shopping and ended up back her flat after
trudging through the snow and had a wee lie down. Yes, we have reached that age
that we need a nap after a shopping mission. Just as we were about to fall
asleep she darted out of her bed and ran downstairs to drag in her wheelie bin,
I fear that fate will get me soon. It an age thing I suppose!
She then ranted about global warming, which was funny as
it’s a subject she is no expert on.
“What is global warming and why do I need to recycle milk
cartons?” she asked.
It took me ages to go through it all and even I got lost in
the quagmire of information, she just butted in Janie style and said “So if I
stop throwing milk cartons out will polar bears stop dying?” I laughed and said
“There are kids up here dying of drug addiction, there is
now Anthrax in heroin killing folk, there are people losing their homes as
bankers sit snug in castles, there is devastating poverty in Glasgow that even frightens
the MPs and I have to wash out milk cartons? Don’t tell me the priorities are
all wrong Janey” she said.
I found it hard to disagree with her.
“I have never seen a polar bear and don’t care about them so
the milk cartons will get tossed into my big wheelie bin” she spat out. I knew
we would get back to those wheelie bins sooner or later.
Well the Christmas spirit is definitely out and about, the
lights are twinkling all over The West End of Glasgow and the snow looks
awesome when it isn’t seeped in dog poo or dead drunks have a Happy Christmas
Just watching the Nativity scene in my local town square, I
was struck by how bare it looked. Having given birth myself once, and I do say
once because it was so painful and distressing, I never done it again, I was
shocked at how serene Mary always looks.
Personally I would be thoroughly gutted, that after giving
birth to the most important child in all millennia, the only visitors I
received were a trio of Kings bringing totally useless gifts, not one women
pops in with a hot mug of tea and a couple of pain killing tinctures.
It was bad enough for Mary having to go through a painful
labour (She was a virgin as well, that stuff would have hurt) amongst straw and
some farmyard animals, but to have to entertain guests without as much as a
shower first, must have been horrendous. How does she remain that peaceful and
happy looking, I personally couldn’t sit down for a week and don’t even ask me
how my boobs felt, as to describe that would involve a flip chart and an over
Now let’s look at the gifts, only men would bring such
obscure objects. It seems even back in those days; men still didn’t know the
protocol of presents for a new born. Today’s fathers and men friends still turn
up to see a new baby bearing flowers, balloon animals and fluffy toys, all of
which are useless to the point of stupidity.
What every woman needs immediately after any birth, is
knickers that hug under your boobs.
sanitary pads with at least a 10.5 tog rating.
bra with supporting straps that could dock a ship.
towels, favourite shower gel and moisturiser
supplied by Keith Richards.
Mary (I don’t know her surname, does anyone? Does Jesus have
a surname?) anyway Jesus’ mother Mary, must have been made of steely stuff,
Joseph (her man) wasn’t that bright to start with, dragging a heavily pregnant
woman to what can only be described as Vegas, Bethlehem was at its busiest
He never booked ahead, he didn’t plan for the birth, and he
shoved her onto a donkey during the early stages of her labour, gave her a pat
of the rump and headed off into the desert. She calmly agreed and headed off to
At that point, I would have kicked his head and turned up in
Bethlehem alone, screaming and demanding a doctor, after all this was no
ordinary child that was about to be born.
Mary must have literally been an actual Saint. If it were
me, there would have been swearing, bitching and at least some Joseph bashing
with the local chicks round the waterhole.
But not for Mary, she calmly accepted her fate; she serenely
smiled through labour pains with a beatific smile.
She simply cleaned up behind her, washed her own child,
combed her hair, washed her face and pulled the blue scarf around her head and
got on with job as being Jesus’ mammy. Then accepted the clumsy gifts from the
strange blokes, who came to visit and thus showed up all us women as bleating,
screaming whingers who couldn’t handle a contraction, thanks for that Mary!
Long life energy saving light bulbs are total bollocks. They
don’t last ten years and they are so dull you have to buy the highest wattage,
which still feels like a flickering candle and end up buying another lamp to
brighten the room.
How is that ‘energy saving’? I now have two lights running
to make up for the ONE light I used to have. Apparently if you use the energy
bulbs on the ceiling they don’t last long with heat reflecting from the ceiling
and they are only going to last ten years if you only use them for 3 hours a
day, and to make matters worse, if you continually switch them off and on, THAT
reduces their lifespan as well!
On top of all that, the light gives me a dull thudding
headache and I end up with a battery lamp beside my laptop!
So, basically I am going through these energy saving bulbs
at a rate of 2 a year!
My old bulbs lasted longer and I don’t know if that’s less
energy used, but when you work out the carbon footprint of supplying these
bulbs at the store on a bigger demand as they last less time, they might be
just as bad as the old bulbs!
How am I going to save penguins with that attitude?
How can I stop Scotland from breaking off and floating to
Norway unless I can stop using so much power? I am worried about my green house-ness.
So that’s ONE rant over, second rant is- Why does the big
store Marks and Spencer insist on charging me cash for a carrier bag, yet wrap
every single piece of food in acres of plastic?
Try opening their pate, cheesecake or salad boxes and you will
come up against plastic fantastic wrappy ville! So come on M&S make up your
own bloody mind about your commitment to less plastic and start using
biodegradable cardboard boxes for food- or stop making me feel like a child
killing, crack smoking, herpes ridden hooker, when I want to buy a bag to carry
home your plastic over-wrapped goods.
I had an awesome wrap party night at the BBC gig, just
lovely and my daughter Ashley came along and made me happy.
She makes me laugh; she suggested that she buy me a small
red duffel coat so that I can run around the river bridges of Glasgow in a
‘Don’t Look Now’ manner. She says I look like a child from behind but have a
wee old wrinkly face at the front. What a nice child I gave birth to eh?
Last week I met up with my dad who told me to walk him to
the bus stop, he then told me “That bus takes me home” and pointed to a big
Glasgow bus. I waved him off then ten minutes later he called me shouting “This
is the wrong bus you put me on”
“Dad, I never put you on a bus, YOU said it was YOUR bus” I
laughed loudly on the phone.
“No I didn’t its like going to Belsen horror camp on this
bus” he muttered.
Now before you get all umpity and suggest my dad is anti-
Semitic, he isn’t, it’s a generational catchphrase, old Scottish people use the
term ‘Belsen’ to describe any type of mildly uncomfortable situation.
Scots use exaggeration and shock to display humour.
If they see a skinny model on TV they say things like ‘she
looks like she walked out of Belsen, she should eat’ I know that it sounds
offensive and probably is to some people, but my dad and other elderly
relatives do throw the word ‘Belsen’ about at an alarming rate. It’s a
generational thing I suppose.
I had a neighbour who once described a Butlins holiday camp
as Belsen, now that is just wrong, old Scottish people do have a rather savage
sense of humour, yet we contemporary comics get our balls kicked for less!
So apparently an over crowded bus hurtling through the foggy
streets was akin to a horror ride to a death camp in my fathers mind and guess
who sent him there? Me…according to him.
I do love the crazy old nutter.
Today I got up early and went to see wee Abi my great niece
in her nativity play. She was the lead part in The Bossy King, and she really
did take the stage with gusto. All the other kids were mumbling, stumbling and
shuffling with downcast eyes. Abi was belting out her lead role with a
performance that Dame Judy Dench would have been proud of.
“I am the bossy King, everyone bow down to me NOW!” she
yelled and startled all the babies in prams and on knees of the parents sitting
in the school hall. I gasped out loud and laughed. Abi winked at me and a huge
grin split her face, then she went quickly back to grumpy face of the Bossy
King. I am so proud of her!
Baby Julia was on my knee silently waving at Abi and getting
annoyed she wasn’t getting a wave back “Hi Abi” she finally yelled out in
toddler frustration. I giggled and hugged wee Julia close, or almost suffocated
her in my bosom…you decide!
It was lovely watching the wee school play and Abi is
destined to be a top actress, I can see her Oscar acceptance as I write.
I have been at Glasgow Jongleurs all week, the Christmas
nights can be really hard work, but all in all it’s been fine.
The downside was wearing a new bra I bought, honestly it
felt like a torture device from the Spanish Inquisition (see my dad’s use of
genocidal events to exhibit exaggerated mild discomfort has been passed onto
me) and I spent the whole night in pain. How can a bra be that sore? The side
bones literally cut into my ribcage, my tits looked great but my lungs were
Wee baby Julia is now three years old and is my great niece,
she is small, blonde and the perfect Aryan child that Hitler would have shoved
on posters of the propaganda type. Her giant blue eyes that peep at you under
the white blonde hair are disarming; she is the wee sister of Abi (famous in
her mouse killing video on my YouTube site) and just gorgeous.
Luckily Julia hasn’t started killing small mammals; her
favourite thing at my house is to pull down the collection of miniature hedgehogs
in my hall and make them all kiss each other on my wooden table. A lot of
kissing happens and American type chatter, it’s funny that small Scottish kids
use a Californian voice when they do ‘play’.
American TV has such an effect on children, that annoying
nasal voice that inhabit all the cartoon characters eventually come flooding
out of the mouths of wee Glaswegians.
She asked me to switch on kids TV which I did and I was agog
at the adverts for Barbie’s who were wearing what can only be described as
prostitute outfits. Crotch skimming glittery skirts, high pony tails and tops
that revealed pert plastic boobies, all for wee girls to dress and undress,
suddenly the kissing hedgehogs seemed positively dull.
It made me think of the dolls I got as a child. We had a
Tressy doll, which was a teenage skinny doll that when you pressed her tummy
button her hair grew long out of the crown of her head. Long hair/short
hair…that was Tressy’s thing and I managed to get ALL her hair pulled out and
cut it off at the roots, my big sister Ann nearly battered me to death over
I wasn’t good with dolls, I remember one Christmas morning
waking up to a stiff Spanish doll in the corner of the room, it was about 3
foot tall, as tall as me. It had a big bee hive hair do and dirty red slashed
lips, it resembled a small Amy Winehouse. I thought it was a dead toddler
standing beside the electric fire and screamed myself sick till they took it
away. Who gives their child a dead toddler for Christmas?
So anyway I had fun with wee Julia, she makes me smile and
she has a high pitched squeal of laughter when you chase her with a spatula
round the kitchen. She squashed Jaffa cakes into small paper cake cases and
then proceeded to hand them out for us to eat. They were all sticky and yucky
looking, but she declared “I made these myself” which I loved.
Any girl who can learn about baking cheats so young is a
friend of mine, good on you Julia, baking is for nutters, just buy a cake.
So tomorrow I have to get my hair cut and coloured, I have
to buy gifts and get the house Christmas ready. That doesn’t mean anything, it
just means that I buy a scented cinnamon candle and burn it.
I am working the majority of December and looking forward to
having a wee holiday in January. I may got back to LA in January, who knows?
Yes, it truly is December. I know this because everywhere I
look is fake snow, bright baubles and scented shopping malls. I do love it
Husband isn’t a big Christmas fan, he has made it clear the
tree can go up, but it mustn’t get in the way of the flat screen telly and it
better not flash too much, as that exacerbates his Aspergers Syndrome.
I told him that him talking about the happy Christmas tree
exacerbates my hormones and makes me feel like taking him straight to punchy
town, he told me such a place didn’t exist.
I said it was a metaphor – he said he didn’t like metaphors
– I said “shut up or I will poke your eye with a Christmas bauble” it went on
for ages, suffice to say I won and he dragged the tree from the cupboard with
an annoyed face.
Every year we go through the same crap. I don’t want a gift
as I don’t need anything and I can buy stuff myself. He doesn’t want anything
as we can never get him what he wants (his own house with padded corners, a
butler and a Lazy-ee Boy seat) so we compromise by just buying Ashley stuff.
She loves it and has made a list of what she wants. Husband
who is great at searching online for cheap deals, ends up buying two things and
getting loads of stuff thrown in for free, that’s Aspergers and too much time
on your hands as far as I am concerned.
He doesn’t have the ‘interesting’ Aspergers Syndrome, just
the annoying type.
Why can’t he just count cocktail sticks thrown on the floor?
That’s a great party trick, yet his Aspergers Syndrome doesn’t accommodate such
tomfoolery, he is just good at repeating verbatim all the stuff I say in anger.
He would make a great actor if he could just tell his face
which emotion his words were displaying.
Anyway I must stop saying things about him; he will find out
and smile but shout fiercely, which is disconcerting to say the least.
I have just realised – that’s why he doesn’t get on well
with cats! They also smile and bite you at the same time, or wag their tails
Cats are Aspergic animals and don’t mix well with other
The past week has been busy as hell; I gigged at Edinburgh
Stand and got the most awesome review…
"The queen of Scottish comedy...A bold, take-no-prisoners type of
comic... Comic gold. Brilliantly painted scenarios, uproarious and touching in
equal measure.... Intelligent and skilfulcomedy of the highest
order." (Edinburgh Evening News, 2nd December 2009)
is a lovely thing and cheers me up no end. It nice when you get good things
said about you, especially when you work hard!
wrote a comedy article for a newspaper this week as well and did warm up at BBC
which can be tiring and long, yet fulfilling.
off out today to get myself a pair of leather gloves, as this is what I am
buying myself for Christmas.