Bloomers and Beer


I, Jay Cool, am back and feeling chipper. Just as well, as I’m in for a treat with Aaron Chipper, first comedian of the evening. It has to be said that Aaron seems a tad insecure in his abilities to entertain. He’s introducing himself as ‘white, male and American’ and as akin to Donald Trump, in that neither is very ‘good at getting the job done’, never finishing anything.


Immediately, I relate to this because Aaron reminds me of the last Americano I had the misfortune to take a sup of at Café Nero. Cheap (Aaron comes free), lacking in cream (not being the crème de la crème of celebrities (hence cheap) and bitter (unless five sachets of sugar are added to the mix).


I know that Aaron’s bitter, because he’s ranting on about London. A London that ‘sucks of miserable couples who live together’, solely for the ‘purpose of sharing the rent’.


Sour grapes!


If you want a real woman, Aaron, the genuine British article of femininity, you need to start charging for your services. Get PJ the Booker to pay you, and you’ll have all us beauties falling at your feet. It’ll be like Gerry Hall and Rupert Murdoch, or their American counterparts, Melania and Donald Trump. The only small difference being that rather than being half your age, us ladies who frequent The Tap, have more in common with your grandma. But, that’s no matter…


Mature is best. Consider how much tastier a Shropshire Blue cheese is, compared with Tesco Value. With cash in your pocket and an end-of-season English rose, a real bloomer, at your side, what more could you want Aaron? Job done. Finished for once. Or, ‘Mission Accomplished’ as our friend Donald would say. All targets hit and destroyed, with the minimum of fallout, thanks to the assistance of a mature English rose (with just the tiniest sprinkling of youthful French pheremones thrown in).


My advice is working –  Aaron’s off, before he’s even got going. Finished. And he seems pretty chipper about it too! America’s off and Essex is on!

Spot Neil from Essex!


Neil’s an Essex lad (if at thirty-two, he can still lay claim to that label?), but as with most Essex lads he’s kind of insular. So insular and so anxious that his travels exist only in the borrowed imagination of the late Stephen Hawkins. It’s soon apparent, though, that there’s little difference between a comic from Essex and his American predecessor. Both cheap, both lacking and both bitter. Neil’s so bitter he has to convince himself that somewhere, somewhere out there, somewhere in a parallel universe, the punters at The Tap are laughing with him – rather than at him!



Not sure why Neil’s so worried when he’s in the company of a familiar – Eleanor Bennett – the female version of the Essex-born non-nomadic human. Like Neil, she doesn’t get around too much; as she herself admits, she’s no Essex slag – she’s too old! But, these Essex lads and lasses need to lighten up a little – they’re entitled to stay put, to stay in their Hobbit burrows, because their ancestors did the travelling for them.  Their orange-faced, blonde, shoulder-padded ancestors, walked on out of their burrows, swam over the Atlantic and carried on with their inbreeding in New England. And then? Then, those who didn’t manage to buy their way into the Presidency returned.


Chipper’s here. He’s standing at the bar of The Tap with a pint of Old England beer to hand, and he doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere.


You been paid yet, Chipper? Mind if I join you? Want me to write something nice about you? Pint of mango cider will do nicely, thank you! Cheers!

Mission accomplished!

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, April 2018

All photography by the author, Jay Cool.

Suffolk Punch Comedy raises funds for prostate cancer research via voluntary donations at our gigs – first Wednesday of every month at The Brewery Tap Sunday. Interested comedians need to contact Paul Johnstone or Suffolk Punch Comedy Club via Facebook.


Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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