Right, so went to see Stephen Carlin last night at Brel as part of the Magners Comedy Festival. Calling something a festival is outright misleading because actually they are perfectly civilized and if anything quite cultured. Festival just instantly makes me think of Rio. I like Brel too, as it's the only pub on Ashton lane that hasn't been inseminated by the commercial AIDS that is the G1 group which is basically the Glaswegian bar-version of Mugabe. Carlin wasn't that funny, but that made anything he did say that was vaguely funny a bigger laugh. The crowd were pretentious cunts and I was told to shush twice by one of those brother-sister couples sitting in front of me. I had made my mind up that one more time I was going to boot the back of HIS chair. They didn't bite, but I was ready to do my traditional public loss of temper scene. I sat right up the back, if they wanted to suck Stephen Carlin's dick that much they should have sat down the front. A friend who was with me commented he did not like going to comedy gigs with someone he found funnier than the comedian ( ME ). I appreciate getting compliments from people who's opinion I respect. There's about 4 of them, and the Lighthouse Family make up two.
After the gig I came home quite drunk. Not enough, however, for me to BELIEVE I was drunk. So I defiantly ignored the time and my inebriation, got my gear on, and went for a run.
Lasted about 15 mins, before I had to stop and sit on a wall or I was going to throw-up I was so dizzy. I must have looked like a hobo, paedophile take on Humpty fuckin' Dumpty.
I walked back home with my head bowed, as I have done so many times before.
No comments:
Post a Comment