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Comedy night at Prime 9/4/2014 - by Nick the Bookman Jokes eh? I read a Dirty Jokes book at home prior to coming down here for tonight's show at Prime. The second Take Out Comedy night to be held here. Lamma-Gung told me we're all sitting in the front row. An attractive spot for undue attention if nothing else, so I wanted some ammo. Just in case. Anyway, I've fucked it. I can't remember any of the jokes I read. There's just a big blank blob in my brain. A humour free tumour. Yikes. So perhaps some observations instead.
I was at the Peter Hook and The Light show on 31/3/2014. An evening of Joy Division, The only songs I really remember are "She's Lost Control"
and "Love Will Tear Us Apart"
which I thought were perfect metaphors for the fucked up nuclear nuptials, that we know as the Obama Marriage. These "factoids" come from The National Enquirer
, who get their stories right over 80% of the time. A higher hit rate than the mainstream press.
So Mrs. Obama (who could be Obaman, according to certain dark corners of the interweb) and her subordinate mate are screwing the pooch, aka the United States of America, instead of helping to restore American pride and prestige. Old #44 is making is predecessor, the Great Dubyahoo, the REMF-in-chief, look like a statesman. Albeit one unparalleled in our lifetime. Without peer at starting two wars and overseeing the complete bleeding dry of US forces and the fiscal reserves of the country. Just to further enrich the global 1% of the "aboveitallocracy" who continue to fester and sporulate. Corrupt and contaminate. AAARRRGHH!!!
Sorry, where was I? Oh yeah, "The Statesman" turns out to be rather a good painter. Not a piss artist, but someone competent at wet work. Got me thinking about Hitler and his thwarted dreams of being an artist. Was it Ben Elton who said if someone wants to be a painter THAT badly, you should just let them? Rather than pursue an alternative career as a depraved racist and tribal nihilist. Are my two minutes up? No beer, thanks. A pint of wormwood and gall spiced with hemlock for me. (Incidentally, the Russian word for "wormwood" is CHERNOBYL).
Alas, no one at tonight's Comedy Night heard this speech. Because I didn't make it. I got called up, but fell at the first hurdle. Too busy scrawling my illegible notes which no one else could read. Especially
Jami Gong, our friendly M.C. I told him I couldn't really read them either, but I'll fix it all in the remix. No worries mate. It's what I do.
There was a brief open mic session before the fun and games started. These men are pros. Put the slaughter into laughter if you're stupid enough to try and one-up them. No, the invaders have landed and the natives are friendly. Big rounds of applause for:
Peta and her dog. Diane. Karen. Caroline. Dickstock. Les (our genial host). Les with his punchline about "the fucking cornflakes".
Nilan and his talk of the statues brought to life and their faecal evacuations involving pigeons.
Karen and Peta and their complementary riffs on the French emotional fancy dress party. Something about "pears" and "custard".
Caroline and her musings on the vivid varieties of vaginal pleasure responses.
Diane's gentle stroll down memory lane.
Dickstock for being Dickstock. Enough said. Those of you in attendance will know what I mean.
So, the trio of top funsters. In performance order they were
Anthony Solimini. Mahesh Mansigani and
Jim Brewsky (spelt with a "y") and not the Polski word for a brew as in "give me a brewski, dudeski". Anthony cleaved closest to the sexual knucklebone, but it was all in good dirty fun, Mahesh entertained us with his tale of the "Geisha-guy" in Las Vegas (who was Korean!) and his story of his low slung hipsters when he was but a lad. Since then they've risen some six inches (and I'm thinking all the better so as not to expose your shortcomings, but I didn't blurt that out. Peta cracked up later when I told her that stray thought and said I should have done it as a great heckle). And Jim described the hilarious joys of being a black Jew married to a Chigro - his wife is Chinese-Jamaican. and how Chinese people "compliment him on how 'white' his one-year old son is".
Maria, who sells the jewellery opposite the now closed
Lamma Grill (and congrats on your forthcoming move to
Pizza Milano and re-opening on July 1st) had a good to and fro with Jay about life in Jamaica and introducing the dusky
Lee-Ann who is sitting next door enjoying the gabfest. (Lee-Ann, I'm not being racist about your hue. Everyone bleeds red on the inside. And the only people I have a downer on are the shitbags, wearing false human faces. Good people come in all colours under the sun. Welcome to the Rainbow Nation).
However, there are assholes walking among us on Lamma. Like my neighbour who is a sociopathic Svengali pimp and a mean drunk and has been busted at least FIVE times since November 2011 for abusing his many girlfriends. And meltdowns of an ice-inspired nature. The galpals are unaware of each other's existence. I've kept my peace long enough now. He's banned from all the pubs except Beer Garden and The 'Tinhead and you guys should really join the majority on this. He's no one's pal, but he'd make a good chum. As in fish bait. This paragraph may not make the final cut, but fuck it. The man is A Cocky Cuckolder (see The Stone Roses review for more anonymous abuse).
After the show ends, I chat briefly with the Three Amigos before they rush to catch the 2230 ferry to Central.. People were asking if I was miffed at being singled out for comment. NOT AT ALL. Taken in the spirit of the evening. Hell, someone has to be the long term local Hashbury hippie dude here. Tripping over my beard which by not shaving gives me an extra hour a week - 52 weeks a year - in bed with my lovely wife Lena. It's also good PR and a massive recognition factor for getting the moving/delivery jobs which have been my pleasure and privilege to inflict on you good Lamma folk.
Time to wrap this up. My first comedy review/gig on Lamma. I will be coming to future ones from now on. Incidentally, let me jot down some of my favourite comedians. Must have Lenny, who is an extinct Bruce. In his time, his shows when he was on form were The Free-est Speech Zones in America. Britain got him too, despite being banned and smuggled into the country in the early 60's. See Dustin Hoffman's masterful performance in the eponymous film. Must have George Carlin who has ceased to be. A cunning linguist with a love for language. Especially his Seven Words you can't say on TV. Plus playing Rufus in "Bill and Ted". And possibly the greatest of them all. Bill Hicks. He's swooped off this mortal coil. Dropped off his perch. Has snuffed it. Is demised. Is late. Is an ex-Hicks. Died aged 32 from pancreatic cancer in 1996. Gave the prophetic warning about never electing anyone called Bush to any public office, because once you get them in, you NEVER get them out. Suppurating pustules in the rectum of the body politic that passes for the American government.
And of course there's Peter
"Goodbyeee" Cook. Did
"Not Only But Also" with the equally demised Dudley Moore. Paved the way for
"Monty Python", "Blackadder", "The Young Ones". and the alternative UK comedians of the past three decades. Oh shit, can't forget the still living and breathing Billy Connolly. One of the most unfettered comedy geniuses of These Times. Finally, anyone who hasn't seen the comedy documentary
"The Aristocrats" put together by Penn and Jillette. Watch it now. It's wa-hay more fun than this little string of badly rhyming sentences. Stop reading. Go and watch the fucking movie. Right the fuck now. And I thank you for your patience and time and
"Tha-tha-that's-that's-fol-folks-all-folks.
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