The Cool Westgate Duet

He may well have been booted off Britain’s Got Talent by the great man himself (and no I’m not referring to our pal Simon Cowell – the great man is David Walliams, Jay Cool’s role model), but, personally speaking, I confess to having a bit of a soft spot for ‘our’ Martin.

Martin Westgate at The Brewery Tap, Sudbury
(photographed by Jay Cool’s Motorola)

I say ‘our’ Martin – not because I model myself on the beautiful redhead, the late Cilla Black – but, because, with his skills in the scaffolding trade, Martin Westgate‘s always in demand at Sudbury’s very own Suffolk Punch Comedy Club. Sudbury’s a property hotspot and it’s essential that our current residents utilise all of Martin’s efforts in patching up and holding up our Bovis houses, before the whole lot collapses.

He’s young and long and lean, and can surely manage to stiffen up enough to prop us up – just until some rich Londoners buy us all up (sorry, buy our Bovis homes up), and allow us to live the lifestyles we were born for (I have my eye of a comfortable cave home in Great Ness).*

I, Jay Cool, blogger extraordinaire, wouldn’t at all mind if Martin propped up my abode. To some, the very idea of a limpet screwed onto their already-cracked-up brickwork might be just a tad too much, but Martin and I have a  special connection. With my ballet dancing talents, and his pole dancing skills, we’d spin a fine duet together. The age difference would be no matter – I’d be the new and fresh ‘Paddy’ and he could be my ageing ‘Nico’; together we ‘could give people pleasure’. David Walliams would love it! Golden Buzzer, here we come …

Paddy & Nico image labelled on Bing as a
Creative Commons image from

On second thoughts, going away from that train of thought (How the heck did I get from sticky-taped-together mic at The Brewery Tap to a high-tech performance at the O2 in front of David Walliams?), I perhaps ought to hold onto the idea of Martin shoring up the town of Sudbury. Take the underpinning away and we’ll all be rigor mortis under a mass of rubble.

The thing is that I’m standing here, in the audience at The Brewery Tap, having all of these highly creative and imaginative lightbulb moments of my own, when I realise what it is that I’ve been missing out on.


Martin Westgate.

The great I’ve-only-been-buzzed-off-once comedian himself, is right here, in the here and now – right in front of me, telling the very best of his jokes. Everyone’s laughing. All the punters are right there with him. They’ve all got fistfuls of golden confetti ready to give him the seal of approval – the seal of Sudbury (please note, that we are famous on the back of Simon of Sudbury‘s decapitated head, and that the pieces of confetti we so readily distribute take on the shapes of poor men’s blunted axes), and ….


… I – I, Jay Cool, am just sitting here, enjoying my alternative reality, tuning back into the action only just in time to hear …

… Martin’s announcement that, fed up of being a ‘supporting act’ for a loser’s gig in our neighbouring county of Norfolk, he’s followed in the departing wake of old Simon, upped sticks and ‘moved to London’, with some foolish idea about putting himself out there (’tis rather foolish, in Jay Cool’s mind, to expose oneself so readily – to put one’s head on one’s own scaffolding)!

‘Traitor’s Heads on Old London Bridge’,

a Creative Commons image from

This is, in my view, a foolishly premature move on his part. Piers Morgan is hardly going to invite ‘our’ Westgate onto his TV show for an interview, when he just got pushed off the stage by easier-than-most-to-please David Walliams. Unless, of course, he’s thinking of signing on with me for our double-act, our up and coming …

‘S***!’ (Jay Cool, vicar’s daughter, is forbidden from blasphemy or faeces smearing!) But, I can hear some rumbling in the distance, from the Sudbury beyond The Brewery Tap, a rumbling from the outskirts.

A Creative Commons image from Pixabay

It’s all caving in, falling into the depths of the valley. There’s no longer a West Gate out of here.


‘Traitors’ Gate’ a image
made available via Creative Commons Licensing

We are all doomed.


Pompeii, a Creative Commons licensed image available from Wikimedia


Copyright owned by Jay Cool, May 2018

Photographs: All photos of comedians taken by the author, Jay Cool.

Links:   * To find out more about Jay Cool’s cave home world, read:

Disclaimers: I, Jay Cool, blogger extraordinaire, apologise profusely to all of the other comedians who graced The Brewery Tap with their presence during May’s comedy club gig. I apologise because, so fixated was I with the thought of Westgate’s head perched upon his own scaffolding that I totally forgot to blog about the rest of you. But, forget the sighs of relief – you are not allowed to relax yet! Here is a little (long) treat of a Postscript:

Dan Farmer, a Fens’ dweller – considering whether his webbed hands might save him from his fate
This is Dan Farmer, who claims to be from the Fens. He’s terrified of dogs and spends most of his waking hours with his hands in his pocket, protecting his ‘c***’! He’s wasting his efforts there, as we all know the story about the Fens dweller who sank in the quadmire; the last part of his body to depart from this life was his ‘c***’, which left exposed to the elements was quickly consumed by a passing Fens’ dog. For those, who have their doubts about this folk tale, based on the suspicion that the dog would also have suffered the same fate, you need to read up about how Fens folk used to walk around from island to island on stilts. I.e. Martin Westgate, who likes dogs, stole one of Dan Farmer’s stilts to assist with his scaffolding work, before running off to seek his fortunes in London. Following the next flood of the Fens, the dog survived.
‘Dog on Stilts’ by Shay Hahn, available by Creative Commons Licence at
Dan didn’t.

(If you still don’t believe me, here is a link to a site describing the stilt-walkers of the Fens:

Paul Kerr, hairy man from Bedford, imitating an evangelist dissing the masses about single mums and illegitimate wasters, who have to resort to unpaid comedy, due to the stigma of their existence


This is Paul Kerr, who claims to be ‘not a religious person’ from Bedford. He boasts about having ‘hairy shoulders’ in spite of the fact that he’s the offspring of a ‘single mother’, and has a ‘family tree’ consisting of a ‘single twig’.

Paul Kerr visiting his ‘family tree’,
a Creative Commons Licensed image from Pixabay

And this guy? I have no idea what his name is, because all that stands out in my small, but Cool, brain is that he’s hit a record as the most frequent user of both the ‘Grinder’ and ‘Tinder’ dating apps. But even that is enough to dampen his unsatiable sexual appetite. He tries to add our emcee’s partner to his hitlist. Good thing this ‘Grinder’ of a loon comes free, ’cause I’m pretty sure PJ’s not in any mind to dish out any of the takings to him now!

The Grinder (our emcee’s partner isn’t ‘tempted’!)


Still, I, Jay Cool, can relate to him on one level at least. The Grinder has a penchant for ‘dressing up as an alien’, and I have to admit that I too, like to indulge in the odd costume change!

Darrell Pickles? This comic reminds me of my late Nanna Cool’s pickled onions.

Nanna Cool’s pickles, which somehow found
their way onto Pixabay!

Round, hot and spicy. Not at all like the ‘Milky Bar kid’ he’s claiming to be a doppelganger for.

Darrell Pickles, son of Paul Merrick, and grandson of Donald Trump

So strange that Pickles got ‘teased’ at school for not knowing who his dad was! It’s pretty clear to of us punters here at the Tap, so why didn’t his enemies see the obvious.

The latter point brings us onto, Paul Merrick, Jay Cool’s personal favourite. Sorry, Martin Westgate, a was lying just a teeny bit when I said it was you! With you,  Martin there was a significant age gap and, although in theory, age is no obstacle to success, I do feel that I have more in common with ‘getting old’ Paul. He’s self-professedly a middle-aged ‘semi-functioning alcoholic’. And he shares a certain tomato-like ‘fat-flatulent pig’ appearance with my hero Donald Trump. A Donald Trump who is, in turn, a dead ringer for a certain jar of pickles!

Paul Merrick, alias Donald Trump

Like grandfather, like father, like grandson. The genetic trail is here – here at The Tap!

A public domain image from Wikimedia


And, what more, indeed, could a lady want?

Copyright of the postscript also owned by the one and only Jay Cool, May 2018.

Suffolk Punch Comedy Club raises funds for prostate cancer research by voluntary donations. Please help to make our men stand up again by attending our free entry gigs on the first Wednesday of every month, at The Brewery Tap, East Street, Sudbury, Suffolk. Comedians, please contact PJ, our Booker and Emcee via our Facebook page.


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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