Tuesday, 18 November 2014
European Comedy Tour Journal, Day Nine: Oslo
I am comedian Kai Humphries. Each autumn I tour throughout the UK with my fellow stand-up and flatmate Daniel Sloss. This year we also roll out the tour to Europe for the first time, visiting 18 major cities over 21 dates. To amuse myself whilst we travel between cities (and whilst Daniel snores) I am keeping a journal of our adventures in the style of a scientific journal where my study subject is Daniel and my role as his support act is merely a disguise to cover up my true objective which is to psycho-analyse his behaviour.
Day: Nine
Date: 4 November 2014
Destination: Oslo
Subject: Daniel Sloss
09:00
It is to our delight that we are leaving Paris, although the gig itself was a bastion of enjoyment and our host was the perfect gentleman, the remainder of our experience was in stark contrast to more preferable impressions instilled in us by our previous destinations. I found it difficult to adapt to the manners of which proprietors of service were proudly lacking. When you courteously part with currency in exchange for assistance as advertised you shouldn't expect to be subjected to such unnecessary disdain when this transaction is the very goal of the provider's business model. What I'm trying to express is that based on my findings public sector employees in France, as a rule, are generally contemptuous pissants.
Daniel presented me with his carefully formulated theory that Paris acquired its status as the paragon of romance due to the fact that bringing an intimate companion here for an amorous retreat would result in having to indulge her with flattery, grand gestures and affection to compensate for your geographical err, it forces you to rise up and provide the charm that the city so clearly lacks. As he eloquently put it "its just a bunch of miserable ****s tutting at art depicting wars that they ****ing lost."
10:00
We are currently in the cab to the airport and the driver is sighing an audible breath of displeasure with every exhalation, I am getting increasingly concerned that he may deplete all of the oxygen in the car and suffocate us with his scorn, I have lowered the window a smidgeon just in case. It is interesting trying to decipher the internal monologue silently projected from Daniel's facial expressions, I imagine it might go exactly like the sighing that is being emitted from our sullen chauffeur.
13:00
Arriving in Oslo we each draw a breath of fresh, friendly air. It's a pleasure to be in such beautiful and affable surroundings with our dwelling situated pleasingly overlooking the fjord. Given that we have time to kill this will be a good opportunity to explore our immediate catchment and study my subject as he spiritually detoxes from the negative flavour of France and further recuperates from the physical fatigue of Amsterdam.
18:00
As I delivered my luggage to my room I made the mistake of perching on the bed to slowly blink, in doing so four hours of time which I planned on utilising accelerated past me in a dark dreamless warp of the cosmos. Upon waking and in negligence of my studies I felt the urge to inquire how my subject deployed his time in my absence, in an attempt to obtain some information on his behavioural patterns in the city of Oslo. It transpires he spent the afternoon watching YouTube videos of failed public marriage proposals rather than absorbing some of the city's delights.
23:00
The Norwegian audience were very responsive with their enjoyment as we regaled them with our colourful anecdotes. This was as much to do with a perfectly structured and expertly developed working environment as it was to do with our own aplomb. They say a bad workman can't blame his tools but I believe any workman can credit his workshop. I am now sat in a bar with a small pouch of tobacco pressed between my top lip and the gum of my incisors, I'm not sure to the purpose of this Norwegian past-time other than making you feel like you have a harelip. My subject is also partaking in the custom with minimal elegance as he unattractively prods at it with subconscious repulsiveness whilst flirtatiously chatting to a harem of admirers.
02:30
We shot beverages of high alcohol content in Norway from vessels the size of an average household vase. After several of these refreshments we challenged some of our newly acquired Scandinavian acquaintances to a friendly game of their national sport, Shuffle-Board. Shuffle-Board is an indoor sport that requires you to carefully slide a smooth metal weight from one side of a lengthy wooden surface, which has been varnished and lightly sanded, to the other. Their are zones at the far end of the board which should your measured toss land the weight within, will result in points for your team, over shooting these zones will put your metal weight in a gutter of sand nullifying your attempts. Mix this game with alcohol and split the teams into nations and it can be quite interesting how competitive this event will become. At one point my subject took a particularly good shot knocking our competitor's weight out of the scoring zone and into the gutter then he proceeded to unashamedly extend his arm and subsequently his middle finger then present the vulgar gesture an inch away from her face to a back drop of belly laughter. His humility also ebbed when we won the game and he did a victorious lap of the gaming table which he concluded by sliding on his chest across the bar room floor in a fashion reminiscent of the way German footballer Jurgan Klinsmann would celebrate his goals in the early 1990's. I've never seen him this happy.
Signing off, http://ift.tt/eA8V8J
from UK Comedy - The Huffington Post http://ift.tt/1EWtFvw
Day: Nine
Date: 4 November 2014
Destination: Oslo
Subject: Daniel Sloss
09:00
It is to our delight that we are leaving Paris, although the gig itself was a bastion of enjoyment and our host was the perfect gentleman, the remainder of our experience was in stark contrast to more preferable impressions instilled in us by our previous destinations. I found it difficult to adapt to the manners of which proprietors of service were proudly lacking. When you courteously part with currency in exchange for assistance as advertised you shouldn't expect to be subjected to such unnecessary disdain when this transaction is the very goal of the provider's business model. What I'm trying to express is that based on my findings public sector employees in France, as a rule, are generally contemptuous pissants.
Daniel presented me with his carefully formulated theory that Paris acquired its status as the paragon of romance due to the fact that bringing an intimate companion here for an amorous retreat would result in having to indulge her with flattery, grand gestures and affection to compensate for your geographical err, it forces you to rise up and provide the charm that the city so clearly lacks. As he eloquently put it "its just a bunch of miserable ****s tutting at art depicting wars that they ****ing lost."
10:00
We are currently in the cab to the airport and the driver is sighing an audible breath of displeasure with every exhalation, I am getting increasingly concerned that he may deplete all of the oxygen in the car and suffocate us with his scorn, I have lowered the window a smidgeon just in case. It is interesting trying to decipher the internal monologue silently projected from Daniel's facial expressions, I imagine it might go exactly like the sighing that is being emitted from our sullen chauffeur.
13:00
Arriving in Oslo we each draw a breath of fresh, friendly air. It's a pleasure to be in such beautiful and affable surroundings with our dwelling situated pleasingly overlooking the fjord. Given that we have time to kill this will be a good opportunity to explore our immediate catchment and study my subject as he spiritually detoxes from the negative flavour of France and further recuperates from the physical fatigue of Amsterdam.
18:00
As I delivered my luggage to my room I made the mistake of perching on the bed to slowly blink, in doing so four hours of time which I planned on utilising accelerated past me in a dark dreamless warp of the cosmos. Upon waking and in negligence of my studies I felt the urge to inquire how my subject deployed his time in my absence, in an attempt to obtain some information on his behavioural patterns in the city of Oslo. It transpires he spent the afternoon watching YouTube videos of failed public marriage proposals rather than absorbing some of the city's delights.
23:00
The Norwegian audience were very responsive with their enjoyment as we regaled them with our colourful anecdotes. This was as much to do with a perfectly structured and expertly developed working environment as it was to do with our own aplomb. They say a bad workman can't blame his tools but I believe any workman can credit his workshop. I am now sat in a bar with a small pouch of tobacco pressed between my top lip and the gum of my incisors, I'm not sure to the purpose of this Norwegian past-time other than making you feel like you have a harelip. My subject is also partaking in the custom with minimal elegance as he unattractively prods at it with subconscious repulsiveness whilst flirtatiously chatting to a harem of admirers.
02:30
We shot beverages of high alcohol content in Norway from vessels the size of an average household vase. After several of these refreshments we challenged some of our newly acquired Scandinavian acquaintances to a friendly game of their national sport, Shuffle-Board. Shuffle-Board is an indoor sport that requires you to carefully slide a smooth metal weight from one side of a lengthy wooden surface, which has been varnished and lightly sanded, to the other. Their are zones at the far end of the board which should your measured toss land the weight within, will result in points for your team, over shooting these zones will put your metal weight in a gutter of sand nullifying your attempts. Mix this game with alcohol and split the teams into nations and it can be quite interesting how competitive this event will become. At one point my subject took a particularly good shot knocking our competitor's weight out of the scoring zone and into the gutter then he proceeded to unashamedly extend his arm and subsequently his middle finger then present the vulgar gesture an inch away from her face to a back drop of belly laughter. His humility also ebbed when we won the game and he did a victorious lap of the gaming table which he concluded by sliding on his chest across the bar room floor in a fashion reminiscent of the way German footballer Jurgan Klinsmann would celebrate his goals in the early 1990's. I've never seen him this happy.
Signing off, http://ift.tt/eA8V8J
from UK Comedy - The Huffington Post http://ift.tt/1EWtFvw
Why Ed Miliband Should Go on 'Come Dine With Me' and the Tories have loads of sex
Or 'Political Lessons from the 1990s Part Two - Sleaze and Celebrity'
The two main political forces in the UK are so unpopular that minority parties have started making serious in roads in the polls.
In a previous blog I argued that the Tories should seriously consider consider publically slagging each other off, ideally with lots of swearing, to wrestle the political agenda back off UKIP.
Below I've detailed two more hugely practical plans for the main parties leaders as they try to avert electoral disaster next May.
Ed Miliband needs some celeb appeal
Way before those zeitgeist straddling titans of '90s pop culture, Noel Gallagher, Alan McGee and, er, Simon Mayo waltzed into Number 10 for the world's weirdest cocktail night, Nu Labour were busy sucking up to the celebs.
Of course the party had tried palling around with pop stars in the past, but this time they took things to ludicrous levels.
In '95, chart toppers Blur were summoned to the office of then leader of the opposition, Tony Blair, to meet the man himself, Alistair Campbell and John Prescott. There's more on that regrettable evening here. But in short, the purpose of the summit, as far as I can tell was ensure the Britpop Brobdingnags toed the party line in the run up to the 1997 General Election
And it worked.
Who among us can recall the moment an innocent televised chat with Jayne Middlemiss about the 'Country House' video descended into vicious in band bickering about the abandonment of Clause 4?
Exactly, no one, because, Tony and the boys made sure Blur were on side and playing ball
Incidentally that evening does have one lasting and, presumably, fictional legacy.
Though Jarvis hastily re-wrote the lyrics for that particular song before it found it's way onto Pulps 'This is Hardcore' Album. Presumably in fear of being invited along himself next time
Anyway, as Ed Miliband is always so keen to tell us, Labour have learned from their mistakes, so this time, they must not keep such remarkable soirees a secret.
No, all wooing of icons needs to take place in the only suitable arena for serious 21st century discourse
A 'Celebrity Come Dine With Me'.
Picture the scene.
It's night, the camera falls on a North London family home, that, whilst very desirable, is not quite as nice as David's.
Upstairs, Justine is hiding with the kids. Partly to adhere to the demands of the production crew, but mainly from shame.
In the Cath Kidson filled kitchen, we find dear Ed; flailing about as he simultaneously tries to get his soufflé to rise; and convince Dappy, E L James, and Joeys Essex and Barton to play ball over VAT reform.
He could even serve bacon sarnies, to show, once and for all, he's mastered the delicate art of eating it.
You might not vote for him but mark my words, you'd watch it.
Come on, it's not like I'm suggesting that Ed Balls and Yvette Cooper take on Professor Green and Millie Mackintosh in a special edition of ITVs All Star Mr and Mrs.
Though, really, would it hurt them. Honestly?
Sleaze makes everyone forget everything else.
In my last blog I mentioned that titan of mid 90s Tory think tanks 'The cones hotline', for all the mirth it inspired, it did, at least have a tangible end product. Ok it was a costly and rather pointless end product but you knew where you were with it.
Swearing on the M6 mainly.
But 'Back to Basics', Majors centrepiece strategy, was an all-together more vague proposition, indeed; by contrast 'The Big Society' seemed coherent and thought through
It seemed that Major wanted Britain to return to some vague form of mythical 1950s idyll. Happily this plea for 'family values' rather neatly coincided with Conservative MPs embarking on a veritable cornucopia of copulation and corruption that could all be neatly filed under the catch all heading of 'Sleaze'
Even that man himself didn't practice what he preached
Now, you'd be forgiven for thinking that having a party of love child fathering, extra marital fornicators, and 'Sword of Truth' waving perjurers would prove an electoral liability.
You'd be forgiven because you'd be absolutely right.
But dwell on this Dave.
Every moment the Tory back benches were shagging and bunging their brains out, was one less minute they could spend endlessly yelling the word 'MAASTRICHT' at each other and us.
Nigel Farage gets attention not because he offers a revolutionary political doctrine, unless getting trains re painted in their original colour and people dressing properly for the theatre, are your particular political bête noires
He gets attention because he's interesting.
So, in short, bring back the shagging, stick your snoats shamelessly in the trough, and watch UKIPs poll numbers tumble.
Possibly. http://ift.tt/eA8V8J
from UK Comedy - The Huffington Post http://ift.tt/1t9hh50
The two main political forces in the UK are so unpopular that minority parties have started making serious in roads in the polls.
In a previous blog I argued that the Tories should seriously consider consider publically slagging each other off, ideally with lots of swearing, to wrestle the political agenda back off UKIP.
Below I've detailed two more hugely practical plans for the main parties leaders as they try to avert electoral disaster next May.
Ed Miliband needs some celeb appeal
Way before those zeitgeist straddling titans of '90s pop culture, Noel Gallagher, Alan McGee and, er, Simon Mayo waltzed into Number 10 for the world's weirdest cocktail night, Nu Labour were busy sucking up to the celebs.
Of course the party had tried palling around with pop stars in the past, but this time they took things to ludicrous levels.
In '95, chart toppers Blur were summoned to the office of then leader of the opposition, Tony Blair, to meet the man himself, Alistair Campbell and John Prescott. There's more on that regrettable evening here. But in short, the purpose of the summit, as far as I can tell was ensure the Britpop Brobdingnags toed the party line in the run up to the 1997 General Election
And it worked.
Who among us can recall the moment an innocent televised chat with Jayne Middlemiss about the 'Country House' video descended into vicious in band bickering about the abandonment of Clause 4?
Exactly, no one, because, Tony and the boys made sure Blur were on side and playing ball
Incidentally that evening does have one lasting and, presumably, fictional legacy.
Though Jarvis hastily re-wrote the lyrics for that particular song before it found it's way onto Pulps 'This is Hardcore' Album. Presumably in fear of being invited along himself next time
Anyway, as Ed Miliband is always so keen to tell us, Labour have learned from their mistakes, so this time, they must not keep such remarkable soirees a secret.
No, all wooing of icons needs to take place in the only suitable arena for serious 21st century discourse
A 'Celebrity Come Dine With Me'.
Picture the scene.
It's night, the camera falls on a North London family home, that, whilst very desirable, is not quite as nice as David's.
Upstairs, Justine is hiding with the kids. Partly to adhere to the demands of the production crew, but mainly from shame.
In the Cath Kidson filled kitchen, we find dear Ed; flailing about as he simultaneously tries to get his soufflé to rise; and convince Dappy, E L James, and Joeys Essex and Barton to play ball over VAT reform.
He could even serve bacon sarnies, to show, once and for all, he's mastered the delicate art of eating it.
You might not vote for him but mark my words, you'd watch it.
Come on, it's not like I'm suggesting that Ed Balls and Yvette Cooper take on Professor Green and Millie Mackintosh in a special edition of ITVs All Star Mr and Mrs.
Though, really, would it hurt them. Honestly?
Sleaze makes everyone forget everything else.
In my last blog I mentioned that titan of mid 90s Tory think tanks 'The cones hotline', for all the mirth it inspired, it did, at least have a tangible end product. Ok it was a costly and rather pointless end product but you knew where you were with it.
Swearing on the M6 mainly.
But 'Back to Basics', Majors centrepiece strategy, was an all-together more vague proposition, indeed; by contrast 'The Big Society' seemed coherent and thought through
It seemed that Major wanted Britain to return to some vague form of mythical 1950s idyll. Happily this plea for 'family values' rather neatly coincided with Conservative MPs embarking on a veritable cornucopia of copulation and corruption that could all be neatly filed under the catch all heading of 'Sleaze'
Even that man himself didn't practice what he preached
Now, you'd be forgiven for thinking that having a party of love child fathering, extra marital fornicators, and 'Sword of Truth' waving perjurers would prove an electoral liability.
You'd be forgiven because you'd be absolutely right.
But dwell on this Dave.
Every moment the Tory back benches were shagging and bunging their brains out, was one less minute they could spend endlessly yelling the word 'MAASTRICHT' at each other and us.
Nigel Farage gets attention not because he offers a revolutionary political doctrine, unless getting trains re painted in their original colour and people dressing properly for the theatre, are your particular political bête noires
He gets attention because he's interesting.
So, in short, bring back the shagging, stick your snoats shamelessly in the trough, and watch UKIPs poll numbers tumble.
Possibly. http://ift.tt/eA8V8J
from UK Comedy - The Huffington Post http://ift.tt/1t9hh50
'Mortal Kombat' Elevator Prank 2: It's Fun! Right? Fun!
It's time for more people to enter elevators (or lifts as they are ACTUALLY called) and be confronted with a person in a Mortal Kombat cosplay outfit.
Last time this happened it received about a million YouTube views in 12 hours, so why not do it again. And again. And again until the end of time.
It's fun! We're pretty sure it's fun!
I mean, sure, it appears that the people in the elevators really only get scared when the big terrifyingly dressed guy in the lift with them starts waving his arms and screaming, but... it's fun! Ha ha! Look how he's scaring those kind people for no reason!
It's fun!!! http://ift.tt/eA8V8J
from UK Comedy - The Huffington Post http://ift.tt/1xM0slH
Last time this happened it received about a million YouTube views in 12 hours, so why not do it again. And again. And again until the end of time.
It's fun! We're pretty sure it's fun!
I mean, sure, it appears that the people in the elevators really only get scared when the big terrifyingly dressed guy in the lift with them starts waving his arms and screaming, but... it's fun! Ha ha! Look how he's scaring those kind people for no reason!
It's fun!!! http://ift.tt/eA8V8J
from UK Comedy - The Huffington Post http://ift.tt/1xM0slH
Eli Lilly, the company behind the SSRI antidepressant Prozac…
Eli Lilly, the company behind the SSRI antidepressant Prozac, hid its clinical trials from the FDA that showed patients who took Prozac were 12 times more likely to commit suicide compared to older antidepressants.
from Crazy Facts http://ift.tt/1yivH7p
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