Saturday, 28 August 2010

what a day

Wow, Wow, Wow, Wow, Wow.

What a day!

Today we had the privilege of going to the fantastic Fosters Edinburgh Comedy Awards ceremony, and it did not disappoint, there were lots of our idols there and we were awestruck for the whole time. Unfortunately we did not win but just to be involved was more than we could of ever wished for and to hear Tim Key and Al Murray both talk about our show was awesome. The free bar was pretty cool too!

We were all very happy to see Russell Kane win the best comedy show award, he really deserves it.
We also did a very good show today despite some of the gimps still being over the limit! (Richard) and all coped really well considering we were all up before 11 AM for the first time in a long time! (except Richard) It really is impressive that we are all still getting on and enjoying each others company after a whole month in a cold Scotland!............ (except Richard)

That's all for me, but i am going to pass over to lee with a great story involving a skinny sausage shaped, battered sausage and an equally skinny sausage shaped Paul

Peace out



Lee here.

A great day etc etc but topped off by probably my favourite moment of the festival so far.

We decided to go for a couple of drinks after the show and, as I've been pretty good at not drinking thus far, only a couple of half arsed Fosters tops were enough to get me going. I mean I was on a real roll sliding around the bar making no sense as I tried to hold conversations. I think I probably seemed quite clever. I know that I probably didn't.

Then on the way home Paul and Dan bought some chips. I didn't. Why? My body is a temple. That and I knew I could steal some of theirs. This is the kind of forward planning that will one day see me sit on a quite considerable retirement nest egg with no one to share it with.

But I babble.

We were walking back and Paul was eating his chips. Every time I made a move to eat one he blocked me. How did he do this? He closed the lid. Very clever indeed. I had no way to get round this so like a magpie with a taste for deep fried potatoes I shifted my attention to Dan and dug in.

After a while Paul had realised that he had bitten off more than he could chew. He had gone into an Edinburgh chip shop and ordered a battered sausage and chips and lost. He wasn't man enough to get it down him.

Anyone who has ever met Paul will know that his physique is akin to that if a coat rack. Or an umbrella. Or a six foot two pepperami. Or a high standing lamp. Or a javelin. Or a telephone pole. Or a bony stick. Or a tall thin tub of pringles. Or any other kind of tall, thin thing you may be able to think of that isn't in our living room or out of the window (it's late and I'm tired!)

So Paul, with his thin, old man frame wasn't man enough to finish the chips and gave them to me along with a little bit of left over sausage.

Hello, thought I, chips eh? Good to see you boys. Can't wait to get you in my- Eh up! What's this? A Half eaten chip? A half eaten mother flippin' chip?!?

Now I've had some lousy presents in my time. Jumpers. Cds. Sex Toys. And those are just the ones from my mum last year but never had I been given a gift containing a half eaten chip.

This won't do. Justice must be served. An example must be made. But how? Strongly worded letter? A few choice phrases and expressions? Or to lob the chip at Paul's head.

Well I'm a man of few words so whoosh through the air went the chip... Flying higher and higher and... Smash! Right in the back of the head!

Like a trio of Shakespearian witches Dan, Dave and I cackled. Revenge had been extracted. The balance had been restored. Life could continue as before.


Not quite.

There was still the matter of the half eaten sausage.

But you can't throw a sausage can you? I mean Paul was annoyed enough at the chip after he had gifted you this wonderful late night deep fried snack and you had literally thrown it back in his face. He couldn't stand for that so be good right?

But a half eaten sausage and Paul about ten meters away, there was no way of making contact with him. So I threw it at him. The sight of a piece of battered pork hurtling through the air was beautiful. It really captured the beauty and the romance of the moment as the moonlight reflected off the sausage.

Until splat.

Right on the top of the head!!

To wrap up the story, Paul went for me, I threw the rest of the chips in the air in fear and ran like wind with him in hot pursuit.

Never again in my life will I throw anything as accurately as I did tonight. Never.

Was it a nice thing to do?


Was it a grown up thing to have done? The kind of thing to make my parents and teachers proud of me?


Was it worth it?

Oh yes. I will sleep well tonight replaying that moment of contact over and over and over and over and over again.

Best fringe memory of all for me?

Good question. Lets just say no amount of awards nominations will make that kind of sound on the back of Paul's head!

Ha ha!


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