Nottingham has been tiring but fine. I never slept much as four big baldy headed stag party men decided to have a homo- erotic type fight at 4am this morning in the room next to mine in the hotel. Maybe they discovered they were all gay and wanted to give the room a vigorous make over? Maybe one of the guys didn’t want to get married and decided he liked sailors and it all just kicked off…I don’t know.

 

The noise and screaming was enough to drive me insane and tearful, lying in the dark at 5am, wishing I was with my husband tucked up in bed in Glasgow.

 

So there I was sitting in a taxi, tired and grumpy. I had just came off my mobile as I contribute to the Tommy Sheridan Radio show every Sunday and had to sound chirpy and nice, when I was actually exhausted.

 

I should never have got into a conversation with the Asian Taxi driver…but I did.

 

The lovely interesting man told me that he was going home to arrange a party for a religious festival celebrating some major Muslim speaker and he was happy.

“It is the birthday month of Mohammed” he explained.

 

I congratulated him on his religious festival thingy and sat quiet.

 

He decided to tell me that in his opinion, the reason people misunderstand Islam, is because people don’t get told the facts.

 

Now I know I should have put my IPod in my ears as planned, but I gave it a shot and said “Well give me a fact about Islam please, I am interested”

 

His opening gambit was this “Most women are raped because they are not married and they tempt men into disrepute”

 

Now Dear Reader, of all the people this man could spit this nonsense to – he picked me, and I was a bit grumpy.

 

“Is that right?” I asked him wide eyed and crackling with seething quiet rage.

 

“Yes, you see if women are married and wear decent clothes, then they would be safe, because their husbands would always protect them and teach them how to dress appropriately which keeps them safe” he nodded and smiled smugly through his mirror at me.

 

“Ok…what happens if a married women who dresses very nice is in her home and her husband is a taxi driver and he isn’t there to stare at her and make sure her skirt is long enough and potential rapists are out of reach, lets say he is on the road driving someone and that poor respected married woman gets raped in her home by an intruder, how would that work then?”

 

The cab driver managed to lurch the car, it was his one clear reaction to my statement.

“Well this doesn’t happen” he merely added.

 

“Yes, it does, women get raped in their homes quite a lot, not all rapes are drunken women wearing short skirts staggering around the city centre and incidentally that doesn’t give anyone any excuse to the rape them, women should be safe despite what they wear and where they are” I smarted.

 

“What do you think men do when they see these women in tiny clothes showing off their bodies like that? It makes men feel sexy and they have problems controlling themselves” he started to shout.

 

“Ok, so you are saying to me that you cannot bear to take your kids swimming at a local pool, because bikini clad women make you want to rape? Or are you saying that men cannot be blamed for getting sexually erect in a city street when they see women in a short skirt and such is this uncontrollable urge they have to pull the short skirted woman up and alley and rape her? Is that what you are saying?” I shouted now.

 

“Women make men rape them by such behaviour” he screamed back.

 

“Mohammed would hate you and your stupid words and I am not even a Muslim, I know that if he is such an almighty gracious man he would know you are talking crap and he is possibly ashamed people like you represent his words” I shouted at him, grabbed my bag and got out of his cab.

 

“You have to pay me now” he argued.

 

“No, I had to listen to your pro-rapist shit for ten minutes so you can go rape yourself for the cash, call the police do what you want, but you are not getting a penny of my money” I walked away and he drove off at a screech.

 

I caught the bus to the airport. It was nice and I listened to my music all the way.

I attended a special charity dinner for Epilepsy Scotland. They have an interesting event where five speakers get up and do ten minutes of funny chatting to compete for ‘WAG of The Year’ Wag meaning ‘chatty story teller’.

 

Now I never bothered to read any of the emails to check what the hell the event was about. Luckily husband made me pack a full length dress and high heel shoes. I argued that this wasn’t needed and he was harassing me, he insisted.

So I packed the fancy gear, bearing in mind I was flying out the next morning from Glasgow to East Midlands.

We were staying over night in the Roxburghe Hotel in Edinburgh where the event was being staged and he planned to get me up at 6am to drive me through to Glasgow to fly out.

 

Anyway on arrival I noticed that the hotel was all geared up for a very special event, it was black tie and evening dress event. Yes…you guessed it -that was the party I was going to.

 

So I got all dressed up and was still unaware what the night entailed. I thought I was going to do ten minutes of comedy and then slip off for the rest of the night.

 

No, that’s not what was going to happen. The other speakers included Tommy Sheridan, a lovely Scottish Actress called Joyce Falconer, an after dinner speaker and entrepreneur called Kenny Harris and the Scottish football legend Gordon Smith.

 

This charity dinner is famous (though I was in the dark) and the speakers have to compete against each other to win the WAG of the Year award.

 

The speakers were awesome and I was nervous, I hadn’t prepared anything at all, and just decided to wing my ten minutes and see where it took me. Husband nagged I should read my emails more and pay due attention, so I really did my best.

 

The night went onto raise over £60,000 for Epilepsy Scotland. And guess what?

 

I WON! I am WAG OF THE YEAR 2008.

 

The trophy is beautiful and I was so excited when I ran up to the hotel room and showed it off to husband. He is very proud and he took the trophy up to my dad today for me as I am now in Nottingham.

“Ladies, are you all having fun?” the curvy blonde hostess squealed with excitement over the microphone. I looked around and watched a whole room of predominately blonde women throw their skinny brown arms in the air and whoop.

 

I was at a charity luncheon organised by influential women in Glasgow. It was illuminating and entertaining, if not ever so slightly patronising, when the hostess suggested that their ‘poor husbands’ were left dealing with the babies for the afternoon.

 

If I thought my husband was incapable of looking after a baby, I wouldn’t have given him the task. In fact my husband was better at dealing with our baby than me, he could open doors and carry her at the same time, it took me till she was toddling before that happened.

 

I was there in my role of comedian; I certainly wasn’t there to display my tightly toned thighs, expensively coiffed hair or exclusive handbag. This was Glasgow’s glitterati at its best.

 

There can be nothing more infuriating than standing in front of a room full of people who are there to celebrate strong hard working women and have a female MC apologise for you before you even speak. How empowering is that?

 

“This woman coming up is a dynamo, she is incredibly rude and uses strong language so if anyone here has a nervous disposition please leave the room now” was the words I came onstage to.

 

You would think a naked Dorothy Parker on crack was about to be unleashed on a nun’s tea party and to top it all the venue was actually a church! I am perfectly capable of performing comedy without using bad language. Comedy isn’t always about cursing. It can be funny and clean.

 

There can nothing more disconcerting for a comedian, when Jesus is staring at you in His full glory through a fifty foot high stained glass window and ex- Scottish First Minister Jack McConnell is sitting in the front row and you have a brilliantly funny joke about Gordon Brown that involves religion.

 

I have to say it was a great gig, Jack laughed, Jesus didn’t strike me down and Kelly Cooper-Barr even forgave my black outfit with brown boots ensemble. Kelly is the doyenne of Scottish fashion and she looked effortlessly fabulous. She is one of those women who could wear a sheet of crumpled polystyrene bubble wrap and make it hip.

 

The event included a charity auction and someone paid £2000 for a handbag, I was impressed. In my entire life span I don’t think I will spend more than £100 in total on handbags - not when charity shops have a great selection and Primark stay in business.

 

The highlight of the event was a George Michael tribute act. This bloke was amazing, he really did look like my favourite musical hero George Michael, he sang like him and danced like him, but I think his really name was Barry. He really was awesome, I was on my feet dancing to his music.

 

Women screamed and ran to have their photo’s taken with the lovely talented Lookey-likey.

 

I don’t really get the whole lookey-likey thing, if my husband died but had an identical twin that looked like him, sounded like him and had his wee idiosyncrasies, I wouldn’t fall in love with him and use him as a doppelganger. It’s not really him.

 

It was an awesome event and I loved doing the show. Jack McConnell even came over to congratulate me on my comedy performance.

 

The day was wonderful and the event had raised over £60,000 for National Children’s Homes.

Life is mad at the moment. Was in Newcastle last night doing my one woman show, the crowd were so nice and really made me feel welcome. Husband and I drove down to Newcastle late afternoon and decided not to stay over as I have work today. I am doing a private gig in the afternoon and am headlining the Terrence Higgins Trust gig at Oran Mor tonight (Sunday).

 

Am quite tired and spotty, it’s been a busy weekend. I even wrote a guest column for the Sunday Herald about domestic abuse to highlight the issue of violence against women for International Woman’s Day today in UK.

 

It reads well and I am pleased with it. I love writing serious pieces for print.

 

I have quite an accident prone week let me tell you…

 

Well it was a bad mistake but I managed to Hoover over my husbands’ bare foot and ripped off his toenail, and his toes are all red and bruised. It was an accident yet he is really upset with me. I am not that used to Hoovering the carpet, it’s a new vacuum cleaner and its quiet bulky. I need to learn how to manoeuvre it without killing people I suppose.

 

He hopped around with blood dripping from his toenail. I tried to apologise but when people are in pain I suppose its best to laugh…or giggle. He is really annoyed with me.

 

I am quite accidental prone.

 

I once fell down the pub cellar steps.

 

I knocked Christmas tree on top of my baby when she was a year old.

 

I jammed the cat’s paws in the door.

 

I stuck a strong sucker from the bottom of a toy onto my baby’s forehead and it refused to come off, I managed to prise it off her tender head and it left a big blood sucker circle under her skin. I had to hide it with a hat.

 

I once rode my bicycle into a marathon and knocked about eight runners on the ground.

 

I ran onto a tube train in London and found I couldn’t stop and clattered onto a man who was in crutches.

 

I sprayed perfume in a beauty store by mistake and the assistant got it right in the eye.

 

I threw a dart in my pub and it flew off course and ended up embedded in a mans leg.

 

I potted a ball in my pub at the pool table, it flew off, cracked pint glass that a man was holding and cut his face.

 

Clumsiness runs in the family as Ashley is just as bad, she once fell off a few steps in a store and almost head butted a baby in a pram.

 

So that’s been my week and my madness.

The opening night of the Glasgow Comedy Festival was awesome. My one woman show was heaving with people and it was heartening to see so many comedy fans turn up for the show. John Smeaton (The Glasgow airport hero) introduced me onstage and it was a lovely reception.

 

I also got to meet the amazingly funny Dwight Slade who was backstage, not only is he just a wonderful guy but I am so in awe of his comedy that I am going to his show tonight at Oran Mor.

 

I got some lovely messages from audience members who came along last night; they sent lovely comments to my blogs and website.

 

I love doing comedy to a home crowd and it’s not very often I get the chance and this was the best gig for e of the entire year. Thanks Glasgow.