I sat there on the sofa and chatted to husband, it was one of my long funny anecdotes, it’s a really funny story and you had to be there to laugh at it. I looked at husband when I was in full flow and he was completely ignoring me and watching telly.
“You don’t listen to me ever!” I shouted.

“Yes I do, I have heard this story before but you insist on telling it all over again” he snapped back.

“I hate you and I like telling a funny story and you repeat lots of your shite and I listen with interest as if I need to hear it again” I shouted.

“Well you should tell me to shut up, maybe we shouldn’t ever talk because after 27 years we must have heard everything we ever need to say to each other, and by the way I DO LISTEN – you know that wee voice you have in your own head that tells you to go pee, or go eat, or you must remember to do up your flies? THAT’S been replaced by your voice, I don’t have my own voice in my head” he screamed at me.

“Really my voice has replaced your in your head?” I smirked.

“Yes, I hear your voice constantly” he said.

“What is it telling you know?” I enquired.

“It’s telling me to tell you to fuck off” he laughed.

Well at least I have accomplished something- he hears my voice all the time….deed done.

As you all know I love my wee baby great Niece Abigail, she is only 3 years old, but funny as hell. I got her on video last night chatting about how her mouse died. Now it has been a source of mystery how wee ‘Squeaky’ died.

Abi carried this wee grey mouse around for days and loved it then it just died.

 

Well as soon as I put the camera up to Abi’s face she confessed the whole ‘Mouse’ story and believe me its worth watching especially when she gets to the bit where she stops herself and realises that ‘Shaking the mouse’ was a bad idea….hilarious go watch it now on Here

 

On another note I am STILL desperate for cheap decent central accommodation in Manhattan from May 22^nd till June 1^st as I am performing my play and comedy over in the US…please help?

This blog gets over half a MILLION hits a week and I am sending out into the big wide world web a quick plea. I am coming to New York on 22nd May till 1st June; I am performing my play The Point of Yes at the Green Room on Bleecker Street on 23rd May.
I need a decent cheapish hotel for 10 days, I will also be writing my Scotsman Newspaper column (it’s actually a whole page that I get) from New York So WI/FI is very important.
I can’t wait to go to New York and I will also be doing comedy and will keep you all updated on this as soon as possible.

So let me know if you can help!

Meanwhile Glasgow has given up its global warming campaign and the weather has gone mental and started to rain. I was awoken by the heavy slashing rain that battered off my bedroom window. This wasn’t what actually woke me up, what grabbed me from my slumber was the men who work in the bathroom store beneath my flat.
Their back door where they come out for their 11am smoke is directly beneath my bedroom window, and my window is directly above where my pillow snuggles my head.
“So then I was fucking this woman and I said to her ‘Ask me who the daddy is man’ and she just fucking lay there squealing”
(Glasgow men say the word ‘man’ at every given opportunity, like ‘it was great man, you should have seen the car man’ except in this situation surly when you are talking about fucking a woman, the word MAN should not come into it. Who am I to teach the scummy poor how to talk?)
I heard these words being bellowed from the nasty wee skinny acrylic-wearing sales assistant in between gasps of dragging on his cheap fag.

I leaned out of the window looked down and there he was, acting out his fake sex life in full swing.
“Hey MAN” I shouted “Why don’t you save your breath for you blow up doll and shut the fuck up as I try to sleep or actually have real SEX as you stand down there shouting out shite”
The wee skinny man looked up in shock. “I am sorry missus” he then flicked away his ciggie and ran inside the shops back door.

So that’s how I woke up today.
I can’t wait to wake up in New York.

Sorry I have been missing in action, I have been gigging in the hot sun of the UK.
Things have been so hot here, I was off to seaside town of Southport in England the other day working and the place is LOVELY, so nice except the beach had miles upon miles of sand and the water is so far out, to reach it was like walking to Ireland!

Then husband decided that on the way back from England we dropped off in the Lake District before we headed up to Scotland. The Lakes are truly beautiful and in the basking sun it beats any world wide resort. We headed up into the mountain route and stopped off in a wee pub that is nestled in the carved out hills and took in the awesome view.

It was so serene, wee sheep trotted about and suddenly this huge ear popping roar descended through the valley and I screamed and hit the ground, sheep ran into fences and trees shook as a huge UK Air force war plane screamed above our heads and twirled about looking like a black triangular enemy space craft from Star Wars.
I almost shit myself, my ears were ringing and my nose bled!
What the fuck does that mean?

How can such a beautiful place have to be destroyed by screeching horrid war planes? I asked the barman of the wee hilltop pub what the hell is going on and he told me “They use this place to train and its killing tourism in the area, Beatrix Potter is huge round here and people come from all over the world to visit her home and then leave hysterical at the loud noise and never come back”

Another reason to hate Tony Blair as far as I am concerned, I want him to fuck off to America at the first chance and I hope the next UK Prime Minister stops war planes giving nose bleeds to lambs and tourists in the Lakes.

I went to visit my great niece Abi; she is three and half years old now and is funnier by the minute.

Abi has all the DNA of my performing gene and loves nothing better than getting on her wee ‘stage’ or footstool that she carries around and does a show for us.

 

This particular show was incredibly hysterical.

Abi stood on the stage and announced in her ‘American’ accent that she was Sally.

It’s strange that Scottish kids speak in this American accent when play acting but due to the overload of American kids show this is the voice they assume when playing.

 

“Hello there my name is Sally and I live in paradise” Abi theatrically announced to her mum and I as we sat at the kitchen table. Her wee funny over exaggerated American accent made us giggle.

 

“Well hello Sally” I impersonated her accent and started the conversation “So where is paradise then?” I asked.

 

“Paradise is America and I live there with my five children” she answered, stroking her curly hair and coyly swirling her body in a disturbingly odd way.

 

“What does your husband do then Miss Sally” I asked her.

 

“My husband is a vet and when dead animals come to him for help he makes them alive” she drawled.

 

Her mum and I made eyes at each other and smiled, Abi always has to have some element of death come into every situation and this often bewilders us, but we carried on with the show.

 

“What is your job then Sally?” I asked her.

 

She took the hem of her sundress and twirled about and said with a flourish “I work on stage this is my work, I am an actress”

 

“Oh thats wonderful what show do you work on then?” I carried on.

 

“Its called Bunnies in the Field” she answered with an air of authority, like we should have known that world famous show she works on!

 

“How does this show go then Miss Sally?” I continued.

 

“Well, all the bunnies come on stage and they lick the ladies” she answered as she smiled and batted her big curly eyelashes.

 

“Ok that sounds like Hugh Heffner production” I laughed.

 

Her mum and I sat there with eyes agog at this bizarre statement, neither of us trying to picture bunnies licking women! We ended up laughing out loud.

 

Abi got annoyed at us laughing and added “Well only the bunnies that are alive lick all the ladies, the dead ones just lie around the floor and the dancers sometimes stand on them and they squish” she pouted.

 

I couldn’t stop laughing at dead bunnies being squished and live ones licking women, I sat on the bus home giggling.

 

I love Abi, her wee Scottish head and wild American accent will delight me forever.