I SAW A GHOST!

That got your attention didn’t it?

Yes, like 'Take a Break' and 'Pick Me Up' magazine, I am not averse to using attention grabbing headlines to lure you in.

...and then disappointing you with a story that doesn’t bear much relation to said headline.

Although, unlike them, I’ve made the crucial mistake of admitting this upfront and undermining my blog entry before it has even started.

Darn!

Kudos to you, 'Take a Break' and 'Pick Me Up' magazine – it’s not as easy as it looks!

Well, for those of you who still want to read my ‘ghostly’ yarn, here goes.

Whilst staying with my parents last weekend I was woken up at 3:30am by a very loud hiss in my right ear.

I sat bolt upright, looked in the direction of the hiss, and saw what I took to be a person standing next to my bed.

It looked exactly like the outline of my mum, and my first thought was that she had come into my room to wake me up.

So I said, “Mum, what is it?”

The figure didn’t move and continued to just stand there.

I kept on saying “Mum?...Mum?...Mum?” but nothing. The person just stood there.

Eventually I got exasperated, and figured that my mum must be sleep walking, so I got up to turn on the light and guide her back to bed.

I turned on the light and nobody was there.

Being the rationalist that I am, I promptly ran out of the room and spent the rest of the night in another spare bedroom upstairs (because ghosts can’t climb stairs, obviously)

I was awake for some time afterwards thinking about what had happened.

All those stories you hear, about people waking up to see figures at the end of their bed, I’d laughed at those, but now I had apparently joined their ranks – please God don’t let Joe Power be right!

By morning I was over it and back to the land of logic and reason.

When you have your 3:30am head on, and everything is dark and silent, it’s easy to get freaked out.

But in the cold light of day I decided that the noise must have been either in my dreams or from an external source outside the room. And in my sleepy stupor I had seen a shadow, associated it with the noise, and given it form.

The only thing that I continued to find slightly weird was that by the time I was fully awake and aware the ‘ghost’ was still apparently there, and clear as day, but that’s the power of the mind I guess.

The reason I am recounting this tale of ostensibly nothing, is that the experience gave me an interesting insight.

I can now totally understand how it is that people think they have seen a ghost.

If someone as cynical as me can think they saw one, then someone who is given to believing in the supernatural is going to swear blind they did. Their mind will collude with their tiredness, the shadows in the room and their fear, to create a hallucination, and they, being open to such things, will convince themselves of what they saw.

When it comes to the unexplained, it’s tempting to fill in the gaps with ghosts, God, fate. (Sorry to any Christians I offend by adding God to that list. If it helps I’ll say Allah as well, for balance, and so I don’t get called politically correct)

Although having said all this, I was sleeping in the room where that satanic massacre took place, so you never know.

And so ends my ghostly tale. Don’t have nightmares!

Going once, going twice

A quick blog to let you know that there's an exhibition and charity auction of Martin Rowson's work being held at the Menier Gallery from the 8-12 June.

One of the things up for grabs is all of the original artwork for my God Trumps:

So if you want to get hold of it, pop along to the event.

I'd quite like it myself, but am not in a position to flash that much cash. So if any rich benefactors are reading this...

Comment is Free

A very quick blog to let you know that I’ve had an article published by Comment is Free:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/libertycentral/2010/jun/01/disablist-language-retard

The editors inform me that loads of angry comments = a good piece.

Accordingly mine must be the best in all of Christendom because it’s anger ahoy over there!

Still if I’ve achieved one thing today – besides making faceless internet dwellers go postal – it was to bring ‘disablism’ to people’s attention.

Many of the posters on the site accused me of being a loony left winger who had made this term up for the purposes of my article.

The fact that they didn’t know it was an established phrase, much less a reality, is very telling, and underlines exactly why it is so important to have this discussion.

Thank you!

Just a quick blog to say that my JustGiving page has now closed, and in total we raised £1205 for the Canterbury Oast Trust.

A huge thank you to everyone who donated!

Your money will help learning disabled adults to lead a safe and fulfilling life:

世界は続く 何もなかったように

Anyone who’s watched the Derek Acorah show on Sky Real Lives (i.e. not many people) will know that, in addition to being able to chat to ghosts, Derek can also talk to the animals.

He can.

Stop being so cynical.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he sometimes combines these skills and talks to ghost animals. Observe:



Compelling...

The last time I watched the show he was having a conversation with a cat.

(Not a ghost cat, that would be ridiculous, but a real cat, live in the studio)

...actually ’conversation’ perhaps isn’t the correct description...

He was talking at a cat.

And then leaving a pause, before telling the cat’s owner what the cat was ‘saying’.

All of which explains why this week he got hired to exorcise a fat rabbit:

Click on the picture to maximise

I want his job...

Or the job of photo psychic at Pick Me Up magazine:

Click on the picture to maximise

Anyway, changing the subject completely. I’ve had me a bit of a new year shake up.

The other day I deleted both my MySpace and my Facebook account.

I deleted my MySpace for the simple reason that MySpace is now defunct.

(I imagine it won’t be long before MySpace deletes MySpace for the same reason)

I would log in each day and have no messages, no comments, no blog comments, and a friend request from a spammer.

The only thing that MySpace has going for it is that Rupert Murdoch wasted $580 million of his ill gotten gains buying it, just before everyone started leaving.

But you don’t need a MySpace account to enjoy that fact. In fact, deleting your account just makes it funnier.

And I deleted my Facebook account because I was procrastinating on there too much. Like most of the world's population.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with a little procrastination now and again, but Facebook procrastination is pretty dull.

At least when I procrastinate on Twitter I get to see a photo taken from the space station, or learn a bit of Japanese.

Now, at this point you might be thinking; “Your new year shake up is pretty lame. Deleting social networking profiles? What else did you do? Re-order your cutlery drawer?”

Well you can stop scoffing, because there’s more.

You may remember that last year James and I quit Viz?

Well, I have now quit writing and stand-up altogether.

(Oh and I re-ordered my cutlery drawer)

I say ‘quit’ but that’s maybe not the right word. Quit implies a sudden dramatic exit, when actually it’s been about a year in the making.

During that time I’ve been gradually winding the comedy down, only gigging when it suited me.

And it started to suit me less and less until it just naturally ebbed away to nothing.

I did my last ever gig in early January; Josie Long’s Lost Treasures of the Black Heart, a night where the acts all talk about their unsung heroes.

I talked about Paul Ross and Peter Simon. Obviously. And accompanied my talk with various pictures printed off from previous blogs.

Paul Ross crying during a séance:



Peter Simon’s shoe selling face:



I finished up with some Peter Simon quotes that I had collected in a notebook. As well as some from ‘PeterSimonSays’, a brilliant Twitter site that transcribes, well, what Peter Simon says.

He has a weird way with words you see. For example:

"You can't go wrong at 9.99 for a designer French clock. There'll be many a person coming in to your room and going 'That's French'."

"Because I'm going to take you to my garden. At the end of my garden there's gnomes, gnomes that are solar panelled..."

"This is very Tiffany. It's very very Tiffany. It's elegant, it's exquisite, it's feminist."

"History is especially fascinating if you're someone like me and is fascinated by it."

"This is a lot of coat."

See what I mean?

There are even fan songs which mix his sayings over dance music.

Anyway, when I was writing my set I realised that I could end my comedy career with the words that Peter Simon signs off with on Bid TV every night.

So the last thing I ever said on stage was:

“No matter who you are, or where you are, you might not know it, but somebody loves you”

Life and art eh?

So that as they say, is that.

And now my blog title should make sense. If you speak Japanese...

Challenge

In addition to watching a lot of Bid TV, my household also likes a bit of Challenge TV.

Challenge, for those of you who are not familiar with their ‘work’, are basically a cable channel that repeats old episodes of Family Fortunes on a permanent loop.

Which brings me to my point.

It was during one of our recent marathon Family Fortunes viewing sessions that we saw this:



Possibly the most extreme Family Fortunes ‘huddle’ of all time? I think so.

When they’re not repeating old episodes of Family Fortunes, they will sometimes repeat old episodes of Catchphrase.

Like, really old.

You can tell just how old from the hair stylings of this contestant:



And that brings us to the end of another fascinating blog entry.

Train Chaos: Redux

A few weeks ago, back when I was in my twenties, ah great days they were, my twenties...

But they’re gone now and here I am, a thirty something.

Forty doesn’t look so very far away now, not from where I’m standing.

And then it’ll be old age and death I expect.

Anyway, as I was saying, a few weeks ago (when I was in my twenties...no. No more tangents) I wrote a blog about snow induced train chaos.

Snow induced train chaos which trapped me on a train for almost three hours.

Something which caused me minimal bother, because I, unlike many of my fellow commuters, had a book with me, and was therefore able to meaningfully amuse myself for the duration.

Yes, many a smug Iphone user learned a harsh lesson that day.

Their little toy may be of interest for about 10 of your earth minutes, but once you’ve simulated stapling something, had an e-shave, and drunk a pretend drink of milk, you start to yearn for something, well, good.

Like a book.

And I had an enormous book.

Which is probably what stopped me from turning rogue, shouting at the guard and prising the doors open.

All of which brings me to my point.

Our local paper arrived on Friday and contained this story (click on the picture to maximise):



Now I was on that train, and don’t remember it being particularly post-apocalyptic. But as I said, I was busy reading my book.

The moral? Reading is good.