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Tue, Nov 15th - 6:31AM

It’s 1975 again

I love Glasgow and I adore it at this time of year when my dear green place becomes awash with russets, browns and burgundy, when all the trees decide to go on the ‘turn’. So on Saturday I headed into to town to look at clothes in fashionable shops that I can’t wear (they never look right on me) and look at coats that make my small dumpy frame look like a Hitler’s youth camp leader.

 

So I sauntered into my local underground tube station at Georges Cross and pulled out some change for the automated ticket machine. The 20p coin kept falling right through and finally after four attempts I gave up. I shook my head and huffed as I walked towards the ticket booth and the wee older man behind the counter said “just as well your head is attached to your neck or it would have fallen off shaking it so much at the machine, I bet you if I went to the machine I could make it work. Must be because you are a woman”

 

I stared at him in astonishment and simply said “A single please?” and imagined what it must be like to work with men who still think it’s 1975, the Bay City Rollers are number one and it’s ok to make mother in law fat jokes and call women ‘fat cows’.

 

He held onto to my ticket and repeated “must be a woman thing” and sniggered at me. Now normally I would verbally erase his damp polystyrene personality but I merely said “That’s sexist, can you please just give me my ticket?” and then took it and headed down the escalator quite calmly, because I know the best way to deal with this. I twittered it. I found the Glasgow Subway on twitter and included them in the whole debate.

 

Now I am dealing with the complaint professionally and can then publish the emails online and let everyone know what happened. That’s what I love about twitter and the internet. We no longer deal with shit like this alone, we can include our small world of followers on the ups and down of the service we receive and create a stooshy (Scottish word for trouble) very publicly.

 

A few folk have told me as comedian I should have had a sense of humour about the wee old man who is sexist and I did think about that, but then I recalled a good few young men and women work in that booth and imagine the shit he comes out with and they might not have the balls to deal with him. Maybe they wait for the day when the public finally snap and report him, well I just did. The Glasgow Subway people replied to my tweet and are dealing with it as we speak.

 

So now am in London where the autumnal carpet is gathering and my favourite view across the Thames looking down towards Westminster looks glorious in the late winter sun. Am staying with my mate is just back from New York and has no provisions in the flat but has a glut of ‘organic cleansing bark tree root’ and ‘virgin coconut oil’ and some dried garlic bulbs. Luckily in my bag I had a banana which to me is the world best fast food and can be carried in a handbag until a food emergency rears its head.

 

I believe that people who don’t have at least a brown loaf in the freezer or some cheese in a fridge must be subjected to getting their tits rammed in a door repeatedly until they remember for future. Of course am joking....I off to the local shops to get some breakfast meats and wish it was 1975 again, as I would buy some cheese crispy pancakes and settle down to watch Swap Shop and hope David Essex will come on live and talk cockney. I would pull on my size 10 tight ribbed polo neck and stroke the flat area where gigantic breasts will eventually grow and shake my snakelike hips to the Bay City Rollers and wonder if one day I will marry Donny Osmond. 1975 you were good to me.

 


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Mon, Nov 7th - 1:31PM

What is wrong with me?

“Don’t touch my leg” I moaned to Ashley as she tried to get me off the couch. I have a sore upper bum check and lower leg, I also have a lumpy tender patch under my right ribcage and my left arm aches. I am finally an old woman who hobbles off the sofa in a queer shape like I am trying to do the ‘Lobster’ from Little Mermaid. I hate being stiff and sore. I worry.

 

I don’t want to be old, I hate seeing the upper inside flabby bits of my arms, my belly is softer than freshly kneaded dough and my thighs wobble. When did I become this old woman? Am a bit stressed with the pains and have had blood tests done and this weekend I get my organs scanned. I have never been ill really in my life, but my brother died 10 months ago and I know he was a long term drug user and had HIV but I still think “what if he had something hereditary and I have it now?” I am a drama queen eh? Maybe am just fat?

 

Then after worrying needlessly I look around the world and realise people are living with drone planes bombing their kids, folk in Palestine are living in a illegal ghetto created for them by people who used to hate ghetto’s and Greece is struggling under an economic crisis. I need to shut up and deal with the tiny shit that happens in life eh? Then I worry how will Adele write another album unless some man fucks her about again and should we wish that on her for the sake of some nice music?

 

Husband is being stoic and helpful as I worry about dying and whisper to him at 4am “if I die will you make sure my dad is ok and Ashley doesn’t cry her life away and gets on her feet and please don’t let them play shit music at my funeral and I don’t want anyone but Ashley to speak as she is better at that” then I go quiet and add “I don’t want dressed in my wedding dress when I die” Husband held me tight and whispered “don’t think you will fit into that dress now and I don’t think a sore leg means you are dying, shut up and get your elbow off my arm you are hurting it”

 

Ashley and I are gearing up for Christmas – I say that – like we have big plans, husband doesn’t like Christmas and we have the ‘tree’ fight every year. He has decided that I take parts of the fake tree and leave them out so the tree year by year is getting thinner and decidedly smaller and lopsided. Last year I didn’t even bother putting it up as he merely offered me a single branch of the tree to decorate and sellotape to the skirting board. This year I might pull the whole shebang out and go crazy with lights and decorate it. It might be my last one if my illness’s engulf me (drama queen again?).

 

If you are reading this in UK and know what the LIDL shop is then you will be excited as me about their Christmas selection! If you are outside Europe and UK the LIDL is a supermarket with heaps of interesting food and goods and they are really cheap.

 

I love the weird seasonal decorations, skiing equipment and three bird roast on offer. Firstly if you ski you won’t really shop at the LIDL will you? I get the feeling the LIDL isn’t full of middle class people carousing the aisles for their organic wheatgrass drinks...do you? During the summer the LIDL sold blow up boats and horse blankets and equestrian goods! Who goes to the LIDL for Satsuma’s and pony trekking stuff?

 

Anyway I get all my blood results and will tell you how my scan went and keep you updated. Meanwhile am off to the Blythswood Hotel in Glasgow to meet my pals, they haven’t been and am excited about showing it off. I love it. Might just stay there for Christmas and give the cooking and kitchen a break!


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Sat, Nov 5th - 9:01AM

Take me from behind

“Just grab the rope and make it look like you are dragging the chef’s with you” the photographer shouted. One chef shouted over the photographers voice “It looks like we are all taking you from behind” that made me laugh as I looked round and had a bunch of men and one woman behind me in a uncomfortable clutch, who were almost on top of me.

 

I was doing a photo shoot for Action for Children where I apparently kidnapped chefs in Edinburgh and dragged them to the City Chambers and held them hostage. To be honest if I was going to kidnap a bunch of men and hold them in a room, the last people I would take are chefs. They are all a bunch of needy egotistical nutters who claim what they do is art....much like comedians to be honest. If I had a choice I would kidnap feeble minded sexy male models, which were easily swayed with glittery objects.

 

Mind you the chef guys were lovely and very loud and on the phones demanding people give them money to secure their release and we ended up raising over four thousand pounds for charity. This was awesome all round- so well done people!

 

Been gigging around the place, had a great show last night at Glasgow Jongleurs where a man came up after the show and said “My wife screamed with laughter, she normally hates female comics and was annoyed that a woman was closing the show as as they are all about the fanny, fat and food jokes. We saw a few shit women comics lately onstage and on TV but she loved you”

 

I stared at the guy and wanted to bite his face. I don’t want to hear that, so women come to comedy gigs and if they hate women comics but are willing to give them a wee chance – that makes them generous? Men don’t get judged if other men had bombed onstage, men get heaps of chances. But one woman is duff onstage and that’s it...all women are shit comics? Go fuck yourself lady I want the laughter back that I gave you!

 

I am not going into that debate again, we all know how I feel about the plight of the female comic but fucksake I have talked it to death.

 

Just as I was leaving the club a guy said “We don’t expect a woman to be the headline act amongst the men but you were good” I stared at him smiled and said “Am not a comedian am just an over friendly cleaner who wandered in and they gave me a go at it” I wrapped my coat tighter round me and stomped off. How can a compliment feel like an insult?

 

The world is going a bit fuckety lately – we have the in the UK reports that we might start to bomb Iran...now just a heads up, I don’t think we should mainly because that leader has a distinct flinty look in his eyes and secondly they have nuclear weapons. Am just saying unless we have James Bond or the A Team we should leave well alone. I am sick of the UK getting involved in other people’s business under the guise of ‘we are there to protect the innocent and trodden on’ evidently not in countries that have fuck all but a dust bowl for natural resources or we would be helping many more oppressed people in the world.

 

Greece is collapsing under financial stress and the head of the borders in UK has been suspended for not checking everyone coming through airport customs....let me tell you he checked me every time and almost had a look up my vag for extra sureness. I don’t know what days the UK airport security was being relaxed but it wasn’t any of the days I flew! So we now have too many immigrants unchecked and unaccountable which made the red top newspaper piss themselves with excitement at the headline opportunities.

 

And on the showbiz front we had an outcry of public disdain that some Kardashian woman got married for publicity and attention....we had that back in 1981 when Prince Charles married a shy blonde bobbed curvy virgin called Diana. Except we paid for that sham of a wedding and she ended up fucking the family off and got topped in a tunnel. Maybe if a Kardashian got rammed by a white Fiat Uno and some paparazzi bikers am happy to start watching the show. Until then people you get the TV you deserve!

 

And apparently Justin Beiber fathered a baby after a backstage bang, seriously why is this story running? A DNA test usually brings this shit to an abrupt halt and to be honest I don’t think the Beiber even has sperm come out of his tiny Toot-toot penis, I think when he has a wee orgasm glitter and My Little Pony stickers fly out of his baby cock. That and the smell of talcum? Agree?

 

So some news- firstly our podcast is breaking all sorts of previously held spots in the podcast charts and we are into episode 69- if you want to check it out go to janeygodley.com and check out the front page for details and you will also see details of my autobiography which is finally coming out in E Book form at end of November!


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