Archive for the ‘Wales Road Trip 2010’ Category

Back to school

Friday, September 24th, 2010

Teaching. The age old art of imparting knowledge on lesser minds. Something I’ve been doing my entire life. I say entire life, but what I really mean is the last two years. Indeed, being a P.E. teacher in Porthmadog has taught me that knowledge is a privilege and should be shared, rather ironically. (There’s a joke in that somewhere. Hmmm…)

I was now back in Porthmadog, and was pleased to see my parents sharing my funny bone by moving to a new house in my absence.

The joke? They didn’t tell me where it was! After traipsing around the town looking for them, I eventually stumbled upon a quaint abode close to the very educational establishment in which my own mind was forged. I was home. I played some numbers. I was definately home.

My parents were away, and I hardly had time to drop my bags off before I headed to my first comedy class. Being a comedy class teacher is a huge responsibility. I say huge, but it was already proving to be a huge drain on my mind. Still, I had two weeks as a professional stand-up comedian under my belt, so I knew it was time to step up and give back to the business. In other words, I had to MDFU!

The drive to Porthmadog Community Centre was great. I had some crisps with salt and vinegar on them. Some of them were brown because they had been cooked for too long.

According to a traditional story, the original potato chip recipe was created in Saratoga Springs, New York on August 24, 1853. Agitated by a patron’s repeatedly sending his fried potatoes back complaining that they were too thick and soggy, resort hotel chef, George Crum decided to slice the potatoes even thinner. Contrary to Crum’s expectation, the patron (sometimes identified as Cornelius Vanderbilt) loved the new chips and they soon became a regular item on the lodge’s menu under the name “Saratoga Chips”.

However, a recipe for fried potato “shavings” had been printed in the US in 1832, in a book explicitly derived from an even earlier English collection. Claims that the product originated in Saratoga NY in 1853 may be looked at with appropriate scepticism…

In the 20th century, potato chips spread beyond chef-cooked restaurant fare and began to be mass produced for home consumption. The Dayton, Ohio-based Mike-sell’s Potato Chip Company, founded in 1910, calls itself the “oldest potato chip company in the United States”. While New England-based Tri-Sum Potato Chips, originally founded in 1908 as the Leominster Potato Chip Company, in Leominster, Massachusetts claim to be America’s first potato chip. Chips sold in markets were usually sold in tins or scooped out of storefront glass bins and delivered by horse and wagon. The early potato chip bag was wax paper with the ends ironed or stapled together. At first, potato chips were packaged in barrels or tins, which left chips at the bottom stale and crumbled.

Laura Scudder, an entrepreneur in Monterey Park, California started having her workers take home sheets of wax paper to iron into the form of bags, which were filled with chips at her factory the next day. This pioneering method reduced crumbling and kept the chips fresh and crisp longer. This innovation, along with the invention of cellophane, allowed potato chips to become a mass market product and made Laura Scudder a household name. Today, chips are packaged in plastic bags, with nitrogen gas blown in prior to sealing to lengthen shelf life, and provide protection against crushing.

Hmm, I thought, as I put some crips in my mouth and then chewed them and then swallowed said crisps much to the approval of my digestive system.

On the whole, I’ve always had a good relationship with my bowels. Indeed, I’ve never been caught short at an inopportune chicken time and each dispatch was crisp – just like the crisps I was eating. I can smell another joke coming…

I arrived at the community centre to be greeted by three men and a woman. No, this was not the sequel to the 1991 classic Three Men And A Little Lady I’ve just quickly Google in order to seem more knowledgeable. This was my class.

Dougy was an affable chap, and was very quick at making jokes to make everyone feel comfortable (“How can you teach when you’re not even funny?”). He had hair on his head and he breathed. Saeed was originally from the nation they call Pakistan, which has a population of 170 million people and is a federal parliamentary republic. The Lovely Helen was a slender, cute girl who definitely has potential, and Bob was black.

It was more of a chat than a formal class, really. The first thing I did was take off my blazer so they could see my polo shirt and jeans, and get to grips with the idea that I wasn’t just a comedian, but a normal down-the-pub kind of guy. Well, everyone likes a pint… Cheers!

Next it was time to tell them the basics, and I saw the studious The Lovely Helen taking notes in her notebook with a pen that she had perhaps bought from a shop which sells pens:

1. Being a stand-up comedian is PRIVILEGE
You cannot go to a comedy gig with a bad attitude. I absolutely hate it when new comics have the audacity to have a personality that differs from my own. Original ideas will not be tolerated, and only even acknowledged when they fail.

2. Wrists ‘n’ Sleeves
Any comedian worth his salt (mmmm, salt…) knows that it’s important to project your wrists and sleeves during a performance. Even if it’s going badly, if you have the confidence to show your wrists and sleeves you will always get the audience onside. The Lovely Helen proved to be an expert at this.

3. Know the gigg
Whenever you go to a gigg, be sure to arrive in good time. This allows you to check out the structure of the building itself, in order to work out how best to approach the performance. What kind of door is it? How do the toilets flush? Is there a proper fire safety procedure? All of these details are important as people will want to know about them (especially if you’re keeping a diary).

4. Be a good MC Hammer
There is a multidinous plethororocial influxerating amount of poor MC Hammer tributes on the circuit, and it really bloody boils my blood. MC Hammers should do three things; introduce the acts, go over the rules, flirt with women like a weird creepy uncle.

5. Never go under your time.
If you are doing a ten minute ‘open slot’, make sure you give them ten minutes exactly. There’s nothing worse than walking off stage after 9 minutes 47 when you could have done another joke (“What is ironic about when I ate crisps in the car? My bowel movement was crisp!”)

With that, I ended the class. We stayed around for a chat and a drink (orange juice for me) and I drove The Lovely Helen home. Ah, women…

Checking out the competition

Monday, September 20th, 2010

I went.

To my.

First gig.

As a comedian, it’s always good to get to any celebration of mirth in the local vicinity. I say any, you don’t want to go and see any old rubbish, but being prepared to attend a nearby comedy night is as good a tool as any for a comedian to have in his toolbox. Even as good as jokes! I haven’t written a gag yet!

I noticed with my eyes there was a gigg on nearby thanks to the gift of vision I’d been given at childhood. I later learned to read, which really helped with said ocular activity. Hmmm. Ocular. Two eyes. Bi. Bo-ocular. Binoculars! On a bus! There’s comedy gold in them there hills!!! I’m getting better…

So I got in my dad’s trusty car and headed up the road to the gig. Luckily, it was on my way out of Llanwrtyd on my way chicken home. I knew of at least three service stations betwixt said destinations and was most certainly going to exploit their services for the very best in Ginsters pasties. Well, be rude not to, really.

Any comedian will tell you that they like pasties. Milton Jones is, in fact, a pasty. Jerry Seinfeld in his film ‘The Comedians’, gradually becomes half-pasty due to health. Even non-comedians like Lee Harvey Oswald were pasties (patsies). BONG!

The great thing about travelling to a gigg, other than practising your jokes (“What is Kevin Spacey’s favourite time?” “SMEVEN o clock!!”), is that you get to see some wonderful parts of the world. On my way to the gigg, which was held at Shawoddywaddy’z, I got to look at all manner of road works, motorway signs and a man on a bench. Ah, the delights of life on the road. Hey, beats being in an office like a clock!

One thing I noticed about the gig was the entrance. The door was made of solid oak, and really was a very fetching door. It was perhaps the third best door I had ever seen, and was sure to take a picture of it to show to my friend. My friend has been a door enthusiast for many years. Well, I say door enthusiast, but we all go through doors! I suppose in our own way, we’re all door enthusiasts…

I finally went into the room. It was perfect for comedy. The carpet was very well made. Comfy, yet strong. I could feel myself bouncing on it a little as I walked. Every strand felt like it was there for a reason, doing its job.

Eventually, the compere came on through the curtain at the back of the room. The curtain was, I believe, made from synthetic cotton and of a dark colour I’d be remiss not to call ‘black’. It swished in the wind like a bag on acid on crack.

The gig started and it was quite good.

On the way home I mused on the funny things I had just seen, and then relaxed and breathed in the beautiful scenery. I was very lucky to be doing this job, and I couldn’t wait to teach my first comedy class in a few days…

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Thursday, September 16th, 2010

One of the most important parts of being raconteur of LOLz (as the kids say…) is making sure and ensuring you actually have an audience to tell your assorted funnies to. Betwixt my writing and listening to various wrestling sound effects from the past fifty years, I have been ringing around various peddlers of the comic arts in order to pick up giggs.

I first used the phone in 1988 to speak to my Grandma. Although my Grandma is now dead, I couldn’t help but recognise the irony and significance of ringing somebody else, years after her death. It was a moment of poignancy I mused upon for moments, perhaps one day I could write some jokes about it and take it to the famous Edinburgh Show?

Next week I am teaching the comedy course, so alas I can’t possibly gigg then. The week after, however, I will be making my long-awaited comedy debut above a pub in Tregaron, my second time in the town in two months. I have already worked out what I will do: buy a pie and a load of meat from the butchers on the way. Guilty pleasures and all that….

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

I have already got some good jokes lined up. Graphic Bang is a piece of material I am very proud of, while Salad Tosser is something a little bit lighter the mums will go for. My masterpiece, however, is a little piece I’ve been working on called Prince/Bank, it’s all about what would happen if Prince went into a bank! Haha £19.99!

Dylan Moran.

Well, now I will put my feet up for a night off in Llanwrtyd – the last stop on my Wales Road Trip. What a journey, and what a great new adventure this stand-up comedy will be. I’ve given up my job, I’m getting older, have no real talent (yet! One day!) even though I have gambled my life on something that will not pay off, feel lonely and unwanted, my parents won’t speak to me since I gave up my proper career, I think I have a really bad disease, I hate myself and I want to die. Still, beats having a real job…

Out of one school, into another (school)

Tuesday, September 14th, 2010

I had a bad time in a phone box today. And no, I don’t mean in a sexy way! Well, I say a sexy way, but who would find a Welsh man in a phone box sexy? The mind does boggle…

Basically, I decided that if I am going to make the most of my comedic ability then I need to prioritise. I have called in sick for work the last couple of days – I’m not proud of it – so today I took the big step of resigning over the phone from Bala.

I think to be a comedian one has to be a comedian all the time. You have to be a comedian when you are in the bank, when you are buying a shed, when you are in bed (well…). And basically I need to be dedicating all of my time to being a comedian. After all, how can I expect to make a roomful of sheep in Nuneaton laugh if I can’t even raise a titter from the man who sells me meat in that van?

Of course, being an ex-teacher, I was joining an extensive pantheon of teachers-cum-comics. Lenny Bruce was a teacher. Lenny Henry was a teacher. Bill Hicks was a shaman. I wonder what he’s doing these days…

So I rang up and with a heavy heart I told Mr Belding that my time as a teacher was up. To his credit, I think he knew, as he told me he hadn’t put me on the rota for the term, and had replaced me with a man called Ian. I spoke to Ian and wished him all the best, and as he hung up I said “You are IAN.. I am comed-IAN HAHAHA”. Always working…

Next week I am attending my first comedy training workshop. I have yet to perform a ‘gig’, and haven’t really written any jokes, but I hope I can teach the newbies something!

Can a joke go too fart?

Saturday, September 11th, 2010

My diary-ear always knows what to write about at the moment, and today my creative juices have flowed everywhere! Today is, of course, September the 11th. As I sit at a desk in Harlech, three stops away from the end of my Wales road trip and the rest of my life, I am thinking about the future.

My future began when I was born. I was actually born in Porthmadog, which is where I still live today with my parents. I love my parents, they are really nice. I had a strange childhood as lots of things happened as time progressed. I got older, I did things, I did other things. It’s almost as if I was meant to be a comedian!

Of course, I have my dark side. Sometimes I play online bingo and eat loads of cakes in a chair. Other days I simply don’t want to talk to anyone, regardless of how I stalk them!

My stalking began at a young age when I was very young (hey, we’ve all gotta start somewhere!). I used to follow my mum around and ask said maternal figure things I didn’t know the answer to. I still partake in asking her questions today, particular when I need an answer to certain things. Hey, I guess I just have a naturally curious mind… I’m a creative type after all!

Today’s creativity began when I sat down to be creative. I took out my pen which I bought at a Woolworths in 1993 (retro!!!) and began to write words on a page. My relationship with words has always been a rum one. Which ones shall I use, and in what order? My wordsmithery can sometimes get the best of me though, and I have to have a sleep because I’m being so verbose!

Which brings me neatly to the point of this blog: Abso-bloody-lutely-xactly.

Being a comedian in Llanfyllin

Thursday, September 9th, 2010

My comedy revelation has taken me to amazing new places of creativity. I wrote a joke today, so have been very creative. To be creative, of course, one has to be happy, and one cannot be felicitous without sustenance.

I first made a sandwich in 1989. I was three years old and, although I don’t remember the political goings on of the climate in which I was enveloped, I certainly have a number of opinions on them! I am, after all, an artist (lar dee dar!) and an artist cannot create on his canvas if his paints have been bought from a backstreet vendor.

For example, the Berlin Wall came down that year after years of turmoil across East and West Germany. Of course, while I was barely a wee bairn in my father’s eye (he wears glasses. Hmmm.), I understood the relevance this event had to my plight.
I looked at the two pieces of bread I held; one in the left and one in the right. East and West. Good and bad, like the wrestling.

Then I took my filling, let’s call that ‘equality’, the man in the middle (the wrestling referee), I think it was humous (the middle-class in me was always there!), and I put them all together. Only a sandwich, I know, but I’d like to think I had a little bit to do with the unification of Germany as one.

My last sandwich was this afternoon in Llanfyllin (showbiz! Living the dream!). I put it in my mouth and ate it. Many people have eaten sandwiches before me, and probably many will after, but I’d like to think that in eating my sandwich I’d brought the dark, hungry side of John Owen Jones and replaced him with the full, content person writing this blog today.

The joke I wrote: “Q: What would Dara O’Brain say if you said ‘Do you know the way to San Jose?’ A: No, I live in Ireland!”

Hey, this comedy lark is certainly food for thought ;)

The teacher in me gives that one an A+!

Dolgellau Dreams

Tuesday, September 7th, 2010

A funny thing happened to me in Dolgellau. I say funny, and I really mean it! I was checking into a bed and breakfast for my usual night in watching films on my digital movie player, when the receptionist started chatting to me.

The lady, let’s call her ‘Irene’ (her name) handed me the keys to Room 69 (!!!) but as she put them in my hand, I fumbled them and somehow ended up falling backwards over my Head sports bag and onto the lobby floor! Just like Victor Meldrew, I could not believe me! But Irene was laughing very hard. And then she said it: “You should be a comedian!”

I had never considered this before. Comedy! HAHAHA it always made me laugh! Then I remembered how, all my life, people have laughed at me; my parents, the kids at school, that man in the hedge, God. I have always been good at making people laugh, so why not be a comedian?!

A strange feeling came over me, as if the wool had been literally actually lifted from my eyes. I could see! I could see that my heart wasn’t really in teaching anymore (in fact, I’d felt this way since Mr Belding turned down my request for ‘Dress Downs’ Fridays). I considered the laugh I would have as a comedian – travelling around the country to small towns and eating sandwiches in the back of my car. I’d been doing this for the past month! In fact, I still had 31 pre-made sandwiches ready in my cool box in the boot, I could use them for my first joke!

Before long, I was in my room writing down lots of comedy jokes. I am going to be like a cross between Lee Evans from TFI Friday and Tom Jones. However, if anyone throws their knickers at me on stage I will say “No thanks!” What a joke! That will get them pronominal!

Montgomery

Wednesday, September 1st, 2010

Upon arrival in Montgomery, I found myself struggling with the idea that I simply may run out of time and not be able to visit all the places I wanted to. I had a decision to make – do I go back to school or not? The teaching year begins on September 6th, so I have five days and six places to visit! Part of me thinks it would be best for me to continue travelling, and I’m sure the school would understand.

So, for the time being at least, here I am in Montgomery. I’ve already been to see the castle and it was OK as far as castles go. I don’t really know a lot about castles so it’s difficult for me to have an opinion on them. I don’t know if I would buy it, if I could, basically.

I am starting to miss the trappings of being at home. Just this morning I was thinking about how much I miss my parents’ welcoming silence whenever I come home from work. There are other things I miss – staying in on a Friday night to make some money, picking up my friends and driving them home later on that night. Good times.

Now I worry that I am becoming disconnected from reality. What will it be like when I head back home? Will I even be happy to be there? I’m sure I will, I’m just a little worried that it’ll be different. What about at school? Will the kids hold me in the same reverence they did before, now that I am a well-travelled man of experience?

My next stop is Dolgellau, and I’ll try and get there before nightfall. Apparently there are a lot of dentists in Dolgellau, but I’m not sure.

Barmouth

Tuesday, August 31st, 2010

What do we know about west Wales? I mean, really? Sure, we know that their corral is average – an OK Corral – and that the seaside town is full of bandits and cowboys, but what else? How good is the train station? And where can I get a WiFi connection that go whenever I try to get on YouTubes?

So I went strutting into town like I was slinging a gun; just a small town dude with a big city attitude. Before long I had parked my dad’s car close to a strip of seaside shops, making sure to purchase a stick of rock and a ‘I went to Barmouth and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’ t-shirt (haha). Pulling my ‘Kiss the chef’ cap over my face, I was ready to roll. Thing is, I don’t even know how to cook!

The seafront was filled with youngsters, about 15-years-old, probably taking some time out from the single-child summer schools I had to attend as a child. I remember those days fondly; me and Mr Haff intensely studying dry-stone walling for 18 hours a day. I think my mum and dad were trying to do a spot of dry stone walling too, as when I returned home they had a tan! It was nice that they wanted me to help them, although we never got around to putting up my ’special shed’.

The youngsters were playing football on the sand, and when the ball rolled stray to me I blasted it out into the sea and laughed – just like the older kids did to me when I was a child. It certainly kept me fit in those days, so it’s good to see the circle of life revolve.
I sat down in front of the rolling waves and before I knew it I was asleep. In my dreams I’m usually playing tennis with my grandma, but sometimes the ball is mother’s head! It’s a sign of how close we are that I even think about my mum in the strangest of circumstances!

Johnzilla VS Machynlleth

Sunday, August 29th, 2010

On my way into Machynlleth I thought about how the name sounds like someone who Godzilla would fight in the 60s. I laughed when I thought about that, and swerved and nearly hit a bin!

Unfortunately, I was still laughing hard about this funny joke when I checked into the motel, and I think the receptionist was a bit annoyed about it. I tried explaining to her but could only get out the word “Godzilla!” with tears in my eyes. Within minutes the entire motel had been evacuated and I found myself alone.

Machynlleth became a ghost town, as its population of 2,147 quickly barricaded themselves in their homes. I walked through the streets and found a Starbucks – open – Starbucks will never let me down.

I ordered a Mechacino and sat down with my phone. I accessed the wifi and began to stream the latest episode of Mad Men. I’d never seen it before but I’m glad there are shows out there dealing with mental illness. Maybe we are all Mad Men?

The notes I’d made in my travel diary told me I had 16 days left to visit eight places in Wales. I reckon I could do it in five. However, I wasn’t quite ready to go back home. Sure, I missed the comforts of home such as 24-hour bingo and looking at funny cats, but I still felt like I had things to figure out about myself first before I went home. Mainly – when should I go home?

I finished my coffee and looked out into the streets. The people of Machynlleth were no longer afraid of a giant dinosaur smashing up their town, and were going back to their lives.

No fictional giant dinosaur will make me go back to my life.

Except Denver. Good friend among other things.