Sorry I have been slack of late, I don’t mean ‘slack’ in any body parts or I may have to remind you that the best quote I have ever received was from my local district nurse who when trying to give me a smear test actually said and I quote “You have a surprisingly tight vagina for a woman who has had a child” Let me tell you there is no quote can beat that EVER! I even put that on a flyer to advertise my show!

Anyway I have been writing stuff for BBC and writing stuff for my shows and getting posters organised.
I was over to see my wee baby niece Abi and wee nephew Shaun, Shaun is nine and Abi is three, they are so cute and I love them both.
I have been worried about Shaun as there is a boy in his class who has been bullying him and causing him problems. Shaun does try hard to steer clear of the boy and apparently the nasty boy’s parents have been warned repeatedly about their child’s attitude to other kids, but this doesn’t really help Shaun’s day to day dealings. I am sure he is still under pressure, but we are trying all areas to resolve it before I turn up and attempt to kill the parents of the 666 child that hurts my wee nephew.
Abi and Shaun’s mum is my niece Ann Mags. She is pregnant with her third child
(I don’t know the current state of her tight bits, but I assume they must be under stress!)
Anyway, as I was rubbing her mummy’s pregnant tummy lump Abi said to me in a really serious tone of voice “When that baby comes out you are allowed to hold it but you are not allowed to break it Aunty Janey”
I laughed my ass off at this. We all then went to see Shaun’s school summer fete. All the boys and girls were singing about plants and vegetables and growing and stuff I am not sure I understood, but my fav wee nephew was standing holding aloft his dark spiky head a ‘huge cauliflower’.
Abi watched intently then turned to me, her big brown eyes and huge floppy curls are so cute- I smiled at her and leaned my head down to hear her, but that wee lispy mouth shouted “Why is Shaun holding a big dirty vagebabble? I am awfully bored Aunty Janey” Everyone could hear her; I had to stifle a giggle. Shaun started laughing and Abi stood on a chair and shouted “Throw it Shaun, throw it!”
Shaun continued to sing some song about growing and seeds, whilst giggling and writhing about in helpless fits of laughter, still holding up a big dirty cauliflower. He is a trooper. Abi clapped her wee chubby hands in delight as her beloved big brother sang.
I wanted to laugh aloud, but Ann Mags was glaring at me.
Come on how fucking interesting can kids find cauliflower? I wanted him to lob it at that nasty wee boy who bullies him in the front row. Just the thought of the nasty boy being clobbered on the head with a big cauliflower would have made my day….and Shaun’s I am sure. But we must play by the rules, though just watching the nasty evil child give Shaun sly looks made me want to stamp on the wee fuckers neck.
Don’t worry….I am not a child killer and can restrain myself….

I had a horrible situation last night; I have been watching series 4 of 24, my favourite TV show. Fuck knows how Jack Bauer gets through a day without having a heart attack or at least a piss or a cup of tea I will never know! He must wake up some mornings, hear his phone go and say “Fuck off, I cannot save the world, I am really tired and I get at least seventeen beatings and shot at 56 times in 24 hours”
I cannot believe how they expect us to believe a man gets that much torture, that many bullets fired at him, that many close calls with death, so many family members threatened or killed and still looks ok at the end of it. Anyone connected gets dragged off by Middle Eastern crazy extremists and he has to make really hard choices based on his job.
Yet he still looks cool and collected.

I have a situation with a parking attendant and I look like a crazy cat woman who needs 24 hours of sleep after that confrontation!

As I said I was watching the show, I ate some ice cream and then two minutes later vomited it up….it was so weird to puke up cold stuff, the ice cream came back out COLD! Yuk…
So today I am trying to get my life organised, I don’t think I ma there yet but at least I am trying.
Talk soon.

Yes, we are in Manchester, despite trying kill each other and fighting furiously (me winning every time of course) we are in the land of ENGLAND for the WORLD CUP! Everywhere there are St.Georges flags, women in red and white bikini’s and small kids with painted faces. It’s really cool actually to see people behind their country.
I got a phone call yesterday from an agent asking me if I wanted to do comedy at the Scottish famous music festival T in the Park, but I cannot do it as I am booked elsewhere at the time. Which is a shame, but I am not good at letting people down on the other booking.
I did a radio show last night after my gig at Jongleurs; it was for BBC Radio 5 live. The guy was chatting to me about my book and comedy and I was tired, I hope I came across ok.
He asked me a few times, how -after being sexually abused, coping with my mother’s murder and living with gangsters-did I find it easy to be funny and why hadn’t I fell apart by now?
Well, I find it hard to explain that one, but it just IS.
He went on again trying to figure me out and when I told a funny story about my mum, he was aghast that I could laugh about her, knowing she had been murdered!
I can laugh at my mammy, she was funny, obviously I am not laughing at her being murdered, but I know she had a wicked sense of humour and would be proud of what I am doing with my life. I don’t think I can explain to people why I am not a nutty crazy nervous wreck.
As for my mammy-
I am constantly aware that she died at 47 and I am now 45, so I am going to live every day for the next two years, doing everything I want to do, and fuck the scary consequences. I don’t mean I will do irresponsible stuff, I will just make sure I will enjoy everything I do, and stop letting the stress of life get to me.
That’s why I am doing three shows this year at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
Everyone thinks I am nuts…but fuck it!
Why not? If the critics hate me, if the audiences don’t turn up, if the in-crowd mock my attempts…then I will still enjoy every second, because I am still here and still alive and my mammy isn’t, she never got the chance to do anything.
She will be up there cheering me on, I know this.
I miss her terribly sometimes; just small things make me remember her.
It can be piece of music, or a smile I catch in the mirror or a smell.
I wish she was still here, she would truly enjoy stand up comedy, and she would come to gigs and sit at the back and laugh her ass off. My mammy was as crazy as a cat on crack.
So here I am today in Manchester trying hard not to argue with husband, although his Aspergers syndrome is in full swing at the moment (it makes me want to slam a door into his head) When I speak and inadvertently say a certain word that he may latch onto, he associates it to a song….for example I said a few moments ago ‘I need help with this’- he burst into the Beatles classic ‘Help’ and I had to stand until he had ran out of steam with the song, before he would actually help me!
So far today he has sung three lines in full blast of The Eagles, The Spice Girls, Oasis and Elvis.
I may have to kill him, I think if I went to court and explained how fucking annoying the bastard is, the court would let me off the hook.
I mean how many days can you go with some retarded Rainman singing replies to questions with a weird word/song association without actually sticking an axe into his head?
My second edition of ‘Nancy Del Ollio’s World Cup Diary’ is on BBC Radio 4 today on ‘Loose Ends’ at 6-15pm UK time. I write the piece and it is recorded by an actress.

I was at a special community event today. I do workshops and am writer in residence for the Drug forum people here in Glasgow. My play ‘The Point of Yes’ which is about heroin flooding Glasgow and I play the two characters involved.
Anyway, there are many other community group representatives sitting at their info booths along side me.
I had on behind me a DVD player and TV that was playing my comedy and play.
Sitting right beside me were the local police.
I went outside for a cup of tea and as I left I saw one of the organisers put up the volume on my TV set.
What I didn’t know was, the comedy DVD that was on had reached the part where I tell the audience several anecdotes on some old unsolved crimes, I have a few funny stories about some illegal stuff and one actually involves me.
When I came back into the room, the whole place was silent and all you could hear was me shouting ‘Fuck the police’ and a crowd cheering-and the two policemen were sitting watching the DVD with great attention!
It was a fun day. They gave me the strangest looks all afternoon, I did manage to convince them that the stories were all just ‘fun’.
Also here is some good news, I got my first journalistic piece printed in The Scotsman newspaper today, they gave me an hour to write it yesterday and I am very proud that it looks great and reads well!
I wrote an article about how the British Press are verbally slaughtering Heather Mills McCartney –estranged wife of Sir Paul McCartney. I felt they were being too harsh and as always coming down hard on the woman and giving the man all the sympathy.
So here I am tonight, getting ready to go to Manchester tomorrow. Husband has been an absolute arse fuck wit and deserves to die in hot oil as small pygmies poke his eyes with a hot needle.
I was under extreme pressure yesterday, trying to work and write an article last minute and he decided at that moment that I go find a cheque book. I literally came off the phone from the newspaper who had ordered the article. I sat at the PC and got ready to type and he started being a child demanding attention. I had to leave the deadline and go find a chequebook, which incidentally was lying beside HIS bed. Then I finished writing the piece, I sat down and finished writing my play, went off to write out my compensation forms for my lost luggage, designed a poster, went off to do a workshop and organised three radio interviews for next week AND wrote the diary piece for BBC Radio 4, all the while as he moaned in the background.
He sulked and told me he wouldn’t speak to me again (Hurrah)
He never even apologised, so I hate him and am going to find a Voodoo mama to have his cock fall off.
I will keep you posted. Divorce is looming as we speak.

Yes, the luggage arrived finally. I was really worried as the whole case was ripped open, so I quickly did a check to see what was missing…do you know what was gone? My make up and my good BAFTA dress! Yes…the case thief left a brand new hard drive, an IPOD, a camera tripod and mini disc player, yet made off with make up and a fucking dress!
Some scary mad transsexual is dancing around Heathrow in my frock and eclectic selection of make up.
So I filed a complaint for compensation.

On Sunday morning I got up, got dressed and headed for the Byres road for a quiet coffee. As I entered the trendy West End street, I was greeted by blaring pop music, 36 women dressed as butterflies and about 17 Down Syndrome adults with their faces painted as tigers blowing silver whistles!
Holy Fuck…I thought my jetlag had made me go mental, turns out it was the West End Festival, so I turned on my heels and headed for home.
I also had to get up early to get new make up…can you believe a decent make up brush costs £20, husband almost pissed himself and bit off his own arm at the thought of me paying all that cash for what he describes as ‘A bushy thing that rubs shit on your face’ but I needed to get new make up as I had an interview with BBC television.
I have a few press things set up this week and am off again - yes, its suitcase and pyjama time again, I have not got over jetlag yet either and I am going to Manchester this weekend.
Ashley and I are rehearsing and getting stuff ready for our Edinburgh Fringe show, we sat in the sunshine at a beer garden and went through all the characters that we play, some of these characters are quite…how can I say…politically incorrect, the people around us were horrified!
Ashley and I went up to BBC radio studios to do a live round up of the NZ comedy festival, it is the first time we have done a live radio show together, it was really funny, as we both got the giggles just before we went live and had to stop looking at each other for fear of pissing ourselves and being unprofessional.
So we have decided to keep the show to quiet places till the Festival kicks off!

I am not used to being home, husband is like a dog with two tails, and his excitement at having me here is starting to annoy me. I am lying awake at night, not sure where my head is, the jet lag is so fucking draining and I have to have my intelligent head on as I am so busy.
I am missing Ashley today, she has gone to stay at her mate’s house, she needed some space, I needed her near. I have to say spending that length of time with her in NZ was the singular most wonderful experience of my life. She really did make the trip so special, I usually spend a lot of time on my own when on tour, but she made me smile and laugh out loud so many times and the people of the comedy circuit in NZ really made her very welcome, I am blessed. I want to thank all of those guys for the love and generous time they gave us. Ashley and I have made friends for life in NZ and I want to live there forever!
I am up late tonight, in the hope tomorrow I will sleep past 6am….see you all soon.

Oh Yes! This morning I called British Airways lost bag department and YES my wee bag is lying in a corner of Heathrow Airport! It’s coming home!
I am so happy, I have been wearing the odd clothes you buy but never wear that huddle together in a mismatched bundle at the back of my wardrobe. I am so glad I’ve lost weight as some of my old clothes that I used to wear 8 years ago fit me now, ok they are hideously out of fashion – but I need clothes!

I can’t wait to see my favourite bra. Been wearing a baggy one for three days now and my boobs are just jiggling around inside it like two lost kittens in a shopping bag.
My good bra really is lovely and supports me totally- I don’t know why I kept my old bra’s that are too big, maybe psychologically I believe I am going get fat once more and will yet again have tits that only John Brown’s Shipyard can make underwear to fit.
On another note I was so very pleased that yesterday’s edition of BBC radio 4 ‘Loose Ends’ featured my ‘Nancy Del Olio’s (England football managers girlfriend) fake diary, live from the World Cup camp in Germany’.
I have been commissioned to write five episodes and it’s so cool to hear the actress speak the words I had written. I am now officially a BBC Radio 4 writer…you have no idea how good that feels!
I have so much to do this week and am getting stuck into it all. In preparation for the fringe -I have my play to rehearse, the sketch show with Ashley to finish and rehearse and maybe….just maybe I will make notes for my new Edinburgh Fringe show ‘Janey Godley’s Blog Live!’
My blog is the actual inspiration for the comedy show, I want to talk about all the people I have contacted, all the people who have contacted me and all the strange stuff that has happened over the last two years of furious blogging….you never know it may be YOU I am talking about this year!
By the way thanks for all the lovely comments about yesterdays blog, people have mentioned they loved it, people have asked if it really happened and some people just gave me compliments on my writing of ‘mild porn’….maybe I am missing my true vocation?
When I was younger I used to read the old corny ‘Mills and Boon’ love books. If you are unfamiliar with style of reading material, let me fill you in.
There was always an innocent virgin, she was slender, coy and somehow always fell for difficult aggressive uncommunicative man (seems that’s what I did in real fucking life!) anyway, there would always be situation where the ‘broody man’ mistakenly assumes the innocent virgin has another man and he rejects her brutally –then that situation gets sorted and they have sex…Mills and Boon Stlyee!
It would read something like this…
(Cue soft music and blurred focus as if Vaseline has been rubbed into your eyes)
Brent stroked Jemima’s hair. She shivered at the touch, she knew there and then that his intention would be delicious but yet it still scared her (Why? Does she not want this? I mean for fucksake she has been batting her fluffy eyelashes at him for 254 pages now).
His strong firm hands held her tightly and he pulled her roughly to him (smells like rape to me!) She tried to turn her head away but his dark blue eyes compelled her to keep his gaze (scary man is hypnotists…run Jemima). Then he slowly pulled her tightly to him and she felt is manly strength press against her body, its nearness shook her, yet she was soft towards him and accepted his needs (Dear oh dear…just say NO ya mad bitch or get down there, give him a BJ and go pretend to make tea and finish yourself off )
Afterwards (Fucking afterwards? After what? They only fucking hugged in the last sentence! Give me some details….) Afterwards they sat and watched the sun go down on the horizon and Brent held Jemima near as they planned their whole future together, she smiled slowly and knew that her life would be complete.

Yes…that’s where I got any experience of romance from…can you see where I went wrong? I mean after sex for the first time, sitting talking about your entire future is the last thing you need, maybe a cup of tea and a fag, maybe a talk about what you are going to do that weekend….no wonder I married the first man I had sex with, I blame it all on Mills and Boon books. I am off to sue them now!