I do feel a whole lot better, those period pains nearly killed me, but I managed to get showered and got out of the hotel. Ashley and I went down to the harbour in Wellington, the sun shone though it was still crisp outside. We saw a great Maori busker and he let me join in singing and dancing and we filmed that. Then a local drunk toothless man came along, smelling of piss and booze, so I told Ashley that was her ‘real daddy’ and she screamed at me.
I love meeting the wee underground people, I always like to meet the local nutters, and well I already met the local pervert so I may as well meet the drunks and scary nutters.
I did a show at Late Laughs and the Diva’s and both went really well. I love being onstage, you know it’s the only time I feel really alive is when I get my feet on that wooden board and feel the microphone in my hand.
‘Only the stage can set you free’ is the tattoo I am going to write on my fat ass with an ink marker as I am too scared to get a real tattoo.
Ashley is missing her dad and I do sometimes as well, I do get by ok without him, but sometimes in the quiet wee small hours, I feel that empty-ness creep over me and forget all the shit that went on between us and just wish he was there. How mental is that?
Having Ashley with me has been a Godsend to be honest, I recall being in NZ before and spending weeks alone sometimes not talking to anyone until I got onstage and then talking to no one again until the next day. That’s my fault though as I don’t always communicate well offstage with people, I either talk too much or not at all.
I have to get up early tomorrow as I have a few radio interviews to do and then get ready for Good Godley opening in Wellington on Tuesday. I am excited and about doing my whole one hour show. I will be recording them and filming most of them so I can put some clips up on Livedigital website that hosts my video and audio media.
Speak soon and thanks for all the great supportive comments you have all been sending, I cant answer them all but I do really truly appreciate them more than you know.

Well I am not hitting anymore disabled pervy people. I feel I have been there and done that! I did a gig last night at Indigo Bar, Ashley came along and filmed the gig, and she and I had a good time chatting to the other comics. They really are a nice bunch. We went for a late night drink with Dai Henwood and got home around 3am.
I have never slept past 6am since I have been here and this morning I had a live national radio show at 10am and for the fist bloody time I slept right past 9am. The first time I actually sleep late and I have to get up! Arrrggghhh!!!
Added to this situation is period pains, so there I was all white faced, hair like a scarecrow that has been pecked by ‘Hitchcock’s birds’ and a womb like a cluster bomb being chewed by an angry Doberman, sitting opposite a lovely radio presenter talking about my show.
My brain had frozen and I had to keep talking….I may have said too much….again.
I came back to the room and there was a Scottish House keeper (the hotel here in NZ is full of Scots) “Can we get access to your room today?” She snapped at me.
She was small with a wee pinched middle aged face (like me probably) and had that angry look that clearly emitted that the last time she had sex was when Michael Jackson was black.
“No, I am sorry but I have to go to bed and the room is clean, some fresh towels would be good though” I answered as my womb decided to contract and pull most of my lower internal organs into a knot for no reason.
“Well we will need to get in there eventually” her wee angry face spat at me.
“Look what do you think we are doing in there? Starting a drug den? Maybe an illegal gambling pit? I have loads of filming wires and editing stuff and camera equipment all over the place, I don’t need it being moved around to be honest” I walked off and could feel her wee eyes bore into my back.
It is now 10am on Saturday morning and every word I write I misspell, my womb is killing me, I am sore and sleepy, I am tried and want to go home.
I don’t even know what I am supposed to be doing today; I am groggy and started this blog yesterday but still can even get the energy to tap into the key board all the stuff I wanted to say. There is a story about a video shop assistant and some funny ditties about clothes shopping, but when you have to re type every word as you go, your brain decides to stop working and you want to lie down again and over dose on painkillers and hope your womb fucks off out of your body.
Sorry talk soon Janey

Don’t judge me there is a story. I walked up to the Downstage Theatre where I am performing next week, I was also on that night for ‘First Laughs’ and had to do a tech rehearsal. The theatre is a quite a walk from my hotel, but a nice stroll none the less. I took some pictures of my big billboard outside, did the rehearsal and decided to catch a bus back to the hotel, as every bus goes past Lambton Quay.
The big Maori driver gave me my ticket and sat down beside a bunch of giggling school girls. They were all chattering like wee spider monkeys hanging off a tree, I love watching that, it reminded me of Ashley and all her mates when she was a school girl.
Just as the bus was about to move off, the doors opened and a big lumbering man with a cut on his head that had dried blood around it -got on, at first I thought he was drunk, and then it became clear he had severe physical issues. His walk was laboured and his left arm was twisted, he managed to make it onto the double facing seat on the left hand side of the bus. He then reached into his pocket and emptied his cash onto the seat and counted it out whilst mumbling. “God help him” I thought, it always amazes and humbles me when I see people with obvious physical problems who still manage to be mobile and lead their lives.
He then changed seats to the double seats four down the aisle in front of me; he spread himself over the seat and started talking loudly to himself. His words were inaudible but very loud.
People around started looking at each other uncomfortably, being Glaswegian we often have drunk people shout at themselves on public transport, so I wondered how the people of this capital dealt with any social situations out of the norm.
The school girls went quiet, and then looked very interested at the disabled man, one of them whispered to another and before long they were all egging one girl on to go down the aisle as she clutched her mobile phone. I thought to myself, surely they aren’t going to take a video or picture of that poor man? What do they teach their kids here? I smarted inside as one girl hissed “Why do I have to do it? You do it” to her group of mates.
I leaned over and said “That man has problems why do you all want to annoy him?”
One girl looked at me square in the eyes and said “He is sitting hugging a girl from our school and she is really shy”.
My brain froze, I never saw anyone in that seat, and maybe I never looked? Why would I? So then I strained to see and beneath his big fat arm that wrapped around the window side of his seat peeped a wee blonde pony tail.
I jumped to my feet and walked down the aisle of the bus and approached his seat, there sat a tiny wee blonde girl in school uniform almost encased in his lumbering grip, his arms was around her shoulder, his other bent arm was on her leg and he was slobbering into her face talking that language that would take years to understand.
The wee girl looked up, her huge blue eyes were filled with tears and terror, pleading with me for help.
“Do you know this man honey?” I asked in my friendly concerned voice.
“No, help me” She barely whispered and stretched her hand out to me.
The man looked at me growled and tried to hold her on the seat! I pulled her out of that corner with the strength of a lioness.
“Go sit up there” I said to the girl as I turned to face the man.
“I have cerebral palsy” he mumbled. I barely understood but it registered.
I looked at the adults behind the mans seat and the people wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
“You people sat there as that wee girl was being practically molested! What is wrong with you people, she is a child?” I shouted.
The disabled man stood up and pushed me “You” he shouted. I stood my ground and punched him on the ear and he fell into his seat
“Don’t you fucking touch me, you never got up and sat beside a woman on this bus, you chose to sit beside a wee girl and tried to manipulate the situation with your disability, well that doesn’t wash with me, I don’t give a fuck how disabled you are, you are a bastard who likes to slobber all over wee girls and that has fuck all to do with your disability that’s because you are a pervert”
At that I walked back up the bus which has now decided that he is not the bus Looney anymore that is now my JOB! I didn’t care.
“Are you ok?” I asked the school girl who was clearly shaken.
“Yes thank you” She answered, her school friends gathered round her making soothing chatter and holding her hand.
“The next time any man or anyone for that matter tries to touch you, you stand up and shout at them, your silence is their power, do you understand that?” I asked her sharply.
“Yes, I do now, but he was disabled and I was too embarrassed to say anything” she pleaded to me with her big blue eyes staring at me.
“That is nothing to do with it, people like him depend on your sympathy or silence, look at me standing here talking loudly, I know that everyone on this bus wishes I would sit down and shut up but silence and social embarrassment mean nothing when it concerns your own safety, you need to understand that” I insisted.
She smiled and nodded her head “Thanks again” she added.
I turned again to the people around and spoke loudly to them “You all sat and watched that happen and that says a lot about you people. If that was a bit tattooed Maori man you would have called the cops, if that was a Muslim man you would have stopped the incident, but you all got stumped how to deal with a disabled man assaulting a child, work that out” and that I got off the bus and realised I had missed my stop and had no fucking idea where I was.
It took fifteen minutes to get back to my hotel but it was worth every step.
I am on the TV gala tonight here in Wellington; if that wee girl watches the show she will gasp and say “That’s that scary Scottish woman who punched that pervy retard on the bus!”
She might not laugh at my comedy but I hope to God she remembers the words I said to her on that bus ride.

5am Wellington NZ, am sitting quietly on the sofa, am still waking up too early but coping with it. Ashley and I have a national TV breakfast show to appear on in less than five hours and I was pondering.
I felt a small quiver through the floor that went into a small but intense shudder, the TV shook and the windows rattled, then it was gone.
“What the fuck was that?” I said aloud.
There was no one to answer me as Ashley was asleep. I turned on the news channel and after about ten minutes it was reporting a small earthquake in Wellington.
A fucking earthquake? What is going on?
I never saw that in Lord of the Rings.
“Sorry Gandalf is dead; an earthquake killed him and all the wee Hobbits”
So we made it to the TV station, the show was well on time, make up on and there we were sitting on the ‘Good Morning’ sofa chatting to a lovely NZ lady who advertised my book in full glory to the National network of NZ!
Ashley and I joked and chatted with her and within seconds it was over.
I sat waiting in the hotel on word about the TV Gala, was I in? Did my performance make it to the TV show that goes out in NZ on Wednesday? My heart was in my mouth expecting the news to be bad, but I got a call from a TV person who told me YES I was in! Hurrah…that’s great news as it will help sell tickets in NZ if my clip goes on national telly.
More good news I got a review! Yes the gala was reviewed by some local journalists.

New Zealand Herald, 15th May 2006

JANEY GODLEY: Comedy Festival Opening Gala

Our rating: * * * *

He says: The most mumsy of tonight's performers, and she is lovely.
Her hot daughter is a hot topic and most of the jokes are at her
expense. But when you've got the funniest mum on earth, who cares?

She says: Maybe it's the Glaswegian accent, or her over-excited
multiple personalities, but you can't help but love this woman.
Whether her 20-year-old daughter Ashley still loves her, after being
mocked in front of strangers, remains to be seen.

I am so happy with that.
Last night I was on stage at Downstage Wellington, this is where I will be doing my one woman show ‘Good Godley’. I had a fun gig and the locals and press got to see a preview of my show. Ashley sat backstage and laughed and chatted to the comics, she is also excited that she is called ‘hot’ in the press.
Today is Tuesday and am sick to death of the horrible weather, it really is stormy and freezing, I need to go buy a heavy winter jacket. This weather is like Aberdeen in October.
I wanna see the sun!

Auckland is cloaked in grey, the rain is horizontal and Glasgow is having a heat wave….still. How annoyed am I, we are missing the only sunshine we are likely to get this year back home! I am gutted.
Ashley and I stayed in the hotel in Auckland last night and edited the first live blog for our NZ trip. We then went out for dinner, ate quickly and got back to the room to pack up for Wellington, we were flying out at 9am this morning so preparations and room cleaning was on the cards.
Ashley lives like a gypsy, she throws all her belongings far and wide across the whole area, I manage to keep all my possessions to one corner. We bought an external hard drive also as my laptop was clogged up with all her film and sound files. So beside the many clothes she has scattered, we had a room full of wires and electronic camera equipment, tripods and film accessories, I thought I was going to go crazy!
We managed to get the cases packed up, and headed for the airport this morning…in the rain.
The flight from Auckland to Wellington is only an hour. I am doing two weeks in Wellington before we head back to Auckland for the last week of the festival. My show is at Downstage Theatre.
I have never been to Wellington before, so I was excited beyond belief but would miss all my mates and the familiarity of Auckland City.
We got on the busy flight and for some reason there were hordes of big fat people who all took there shoes off and the smell was unbearable! Ashley had her head in her leather bag the whole flight as she was retching.
“Mum what is wrong with these people? Don’t they know their feet and bodies smell like that?” she announced loudly. To make matters worse a big chubby girl behind her stuck her stinky feet up the side of Ashley’s seat and touched my daughters elbow! Ashley screamed and stuffed her jacket down between her airline seat and the window to stem the stench!
The air was fetid and I could hardly breathe.
As the plane approached Wellington, it came in low over the water, it got lower and lower and still the water was beneath us. My nerves jangled and I am a seasoned flyer, but where the fuck was the ground? Was it going to land on water?
Just as the plane dropped its wheels we suddenly came over land and the aeroplane actually just dropped onto the tarmac with a hefty bump! My mouth was dry and my heart leapt. No one fucking told me about this!
I looked at my daughter and she had those big bush baby eyes in sheer terror staring at me “What was that about? I thought we had crash landed” She hissed. Apparently flights to Wellington are notoriously scary as the runway is too short for the big planes, they are extending it this year. Not soon enough, I am scared to get back on that flight; I may walk it to Auckland next week.

So here we are in Wellington, we have a suite to ourselves, one big living room and good kitchen, two bedrooms and two bathrooms (bliss) I no longer walk around twisting my ankle on discarded shoes, no longer stumble over camera wires or get my feet tangled around a bra that looks like a stripper had been doing a dance beside my bed! I have my own room…..rock and roll!
The city does look nice, we are right in the heart of the shopping area, as we are living here for two weeks I went out and bought food, fuck knows who will cook it as Ashley and I are crap at that. We may entice a young guy back to the hotel suite with a promise of sexual favours and just force him to cook the steak I bought or we burn him with matches! I think there are men who would pay for that sort of service.
We are both on National TV tomorrow on a show called ‘Good Morning’. Sounds like fun? I am also doing the big opening festival show later on that night. I am busy but rested and miss home, miss my husband …..well at least his cooking skills.