Savvy Comedy – Three Years Sillier

Can’t believe its been three years since our founder, PJ, launched the best comedy club in Suffolk. Even Louis Green, today’s emcee, is still to make the three-year milestone! Louis, bless his silly socks, was only birthed into PJ’s world two years ago.

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Fabulous – I’ve now given myself earworms! The song ‘Once, twice, three times a lady!’ has got stuck in the maze that is my brain, and refused to be extradited. Even substituting the word ‘lady’ for ‘comedian’ doesn’t get rid of it. Have a better idea – I’ll hand the worm over to you! Just click on this link: Three Times a Lady.

Back to the point!

Louis!

How can he be ignored? Two years a comedian, and he’s already done for – just look at the rust seeping out of him! I’m trying to pity him – after all, Louis’ parents did, used to punish his misdemeanours by ‘waterboarding’!

Putting his rusty cogs aside, then I find it easier to side with his parents. I mean, how does our Louis know that a pack of ‘Nachos’ is the ‘loudest snack’ one can munch upon in a ‘cinema’? Everyone knows that the best jokes come from first-hand experience.

“Louis, were you the Nacho kid?”

I have to admit, though, that Louis’ best jokes are the ones he’s told many times over. Every time he performs at The Tap, I find his recycled jokes a hundredfold funnier than the last time! But perhaps that’s just me? Was always a bit slow – not dense (or silly) – I just like to savour the flavour …

Anyway, out with the old (for now) and in with the new (and the small). Matt Something-or-Other’s up next. Have a feeling I’m going to love him – what there is of him to love! Yes, he’s a bit of a titbit this one – in a barely there sort of a way!

img_20190904_200929A titbit with a penchant for ‘smelly’ men – Matt’s spent so much of his life tucked under sweaty armpits, he’s become acclimatise to the fumes!

And, yes, Matt really is as tiny as this photo! To give you an idea how he compares with the smallest, most sweetest smelling, of us ladies, then let’s take a look at the following image:

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Personally speaking, then I’m far too lazy to play around with the technology and pop Matt’s thoughts in for him but, with a little imagination, perhaps you can take a play date with him? How about: Don’t fancy getting lost in her, but if that blogger-come -photographer would only give up on the photo shoot, I could nip around her back and climb into the pits of the tall guy!

“Quit all the lamentations about your ex-fiancé, Matt – hardly surprising you ‘lost her’ at your ‘stag do’!

But, Matt, it’s time for you to move on from the ‘bright lights’ of The Tap! I do have to confess, mind, that, being a big fan of The Borrowers, I find you extremely entertaining – still, get yourself back under the floorboards! You’re off and …”

… The Dunwich Dynamo, David Luck, is on!

Not that he’s overly dynamic. He’s telling witty one-liners at the pace of a snail. It’s a bit like going through the experience of testing out one’s vocal chords, following tonsil removal, by letting one’s raucous laughter out e v e r     s o        s    l    o   w   l       y …

Yes, the whole audience thing is excruciatingly painful, which is why I’ve asked our emcee, PJ, to bring the Dynamo back ASAP! Pretty sure I’ll get loads of views with the word masochist shoe-horned into this post!

Still, back to the theme of the wee things, whilst I’m watching the Dynamo slither away, I almost miss seeing the pint-sized hobbit!

Adam Bromley’s here, in The Tap, and he’s desperate to be seen! I dig into my fanny bag for my Poundland specs, and try to focus on the present.

Found him!

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Adam’s starting on about how he used to be hyperactive.

Used to be? Just take a look at him jigging about with his mic, tripping over the electrics – reckon Adam’s short of a dancing partner!

I guess options, in the Shires, are pretty limited – the only female of a suitable age for Adam, Pippin’s mother, Pimpernel Took, has already been taken!

 

What’s that, I hear? ‘Jay, you’re not funny, so quit talking out yer f**ny flaps and don’t give up the day job?’ Too late, the day job’s been dumped! Like it or lump it – you’re all stuck with me. Await my stand-up debut  – any bookers out there got a slot to fill? (Not that kind of slot – I’m gender-fixed!)

Talking of stand-ups, then I really hate sit-downs – I mean, who wants to make skin contact with all the drops of wee from other ladies’ bottoms?

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Sorry, supposed to be promoting Adam’s jokes – not my own lost efforts!

But, I reckon you’d rather be left sitting and mulling over what the wee joke was in my last piece of wit, than being told to picture a teensy-weeny wee Bromley drowning in the outpourings of his own ‘giant meta-w**k’!

How rude! These hobbits need to stop sorting themselves out, otherwise they’ll soon be on the list of endangered species!

So with that, I’ll leave you with ….

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Ladies – stand up!

I’ve lost my dangleberry*!

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2019

P.S. No, I haven’t really forgotten to blog about the debut of ****! It’s just that it took some time to prise her away from my ex-dangleberry. She’s here now, although for some reason, I don’t think that I’m her new bestfriend! This is she …

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Like myself, Sadia Azmatt ‘really likes eggs’. She reckons that they get a bit cracked up the trauma of all the bad press reports they get, courtesy of the old egg-lady. No, I don’t mean the lady who used to come round with a delivery van and sell you fresh eggs, if you had an old egg tray to nest them into.

Sadia has a feeling of kinship, or empathy, with the wee chicks because, ‘like Muslims’ they very few of them actually ‘kill you’. By the exception to that, I take it she means the egg that I popped into the microwave yesterday.

Tragically, against all the odds, I survived to tell the tale! Although it does help to explain why my hair colour has faded from orange to more of a yolk-yellow shade of sunniness! But, just feel the texture of it! Softer than Andrex toilet roll! Because I’m known for my generosity, I will end things here with my recipe for my home-made conditioner

Copyright of the P.S. owned by Jay Cool, 5th September 2019

 

Recommended site for those with a thing about hobbits: List of Hobbits

And, more importantly, for would-be comedians and gigglers – a Facebook link to Suffolk Punch Comedy Club.

Comedians perform every first Wednesday of every month at The Brewery Tap, East Street, Sudbury, Suffolk. Free entry. Donations for prostate cancer research appreciated.

*Dangleberry = poo hanging from one’s bottom hairs

**Late announcement! Matt has a surname. I have been reliably informed that he is none other than Matt Wills!

Image of Hobbit by Gerlock from Pixabay.

 

Please do read, like and comment on the following posts by Jay Cool:

Womenostop

9: Floats & Giggles

Or head over to the Colchester Scribblers Meetup group!

 

 

 

 

 

Savvy Book – The Legacy

man-3552247_1920Wow! Just finished Gemma Malley’s trilogy culminating with the final savvy book in the series – The Legacy!

As someone a little preoccupied with the ageing process myself, I love the idea of the longevity drugs. Where’s my pack? Nipping along to the Doc’s for my prescription, the second I complete this post!

But …

Am I prepared to sacrifice the privilege of motherhood, on order to live forever? Let me think about it … No school run … No refereeing of petty squabbles between my offspring … No dependent mouths to feed … No …

fun?

Would I get bored? Probably not! I could just keep on writing forever and forever – completely uninterrupted! No screams for missing socks … No snotty tissues to pick up … No verbal abuse, when I yell at my sprogs to get up for school … No …

Yes.

Yes, I would get bored. I wouldn’t give my kids (sorry, kids, I mean teenagers!) up for the world!

But … for a publishing deal?

No, not even for that!

Would my savvy life have meaning, without the existence of children or, in being granted immortality, would I be wishing for the end? As Mark Manson, the self-help guru, so aptly puts it, then ‘death is the light by which the shadow of all life’s meaning is measured. Without death, everything would feel inconsequential, all experience arbitrary, all metrics and values suddently zero.’

Fortunately, in Malley’s savvy book trilogy, the young people win the day. And as for what happens to the inventor of the longevity drugs, then go shopping at Waterstones for a copy of ‘The Legacy’ and find out!

A savvy-thought-provoking dystopian experience suitable for all ages of human beings – and of particular relevance if you are a stressed-out-middle-aged mother of three teens!

Highly recommended: 4/5 star rating!

And for those of you who need an uplift, without the necessity for longevity drugs, why not take a shot on these Mind Cards?

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Savvy Poem – The Exhumation

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An old coal,

gone white, c r u

m b l

e, shovelled into the expectation of an existence,

that sees, only, the dust of its

expiration.

The exorcist, unexpectedly, finds a fleck of a white dust

buried deep within her pit.

She exhumes it.

And it glows.

 

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2019

Photo by IgorShubin,  as available on Pixabay.com

 

Please also read, like and comment on:

To Be Eaten

Meatup?

Jay Cool also has published writings on the ‘Dissident Voice’ and ‘Paragraph Planet’ websites.

 

 

 

Silly Poem – To Be Eaten

A response to Joseph Auslander’s poem: In Envy of Cows

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Why poeticize about the non-life of a cow,

and why the envy?

As the cow tastes the edge of August,

it licks at the knife edge –

that turns the flavour of lush pastures

into offal.

Tongue fed to the September dogs that

yesterday

nipped at her ankles,

before being cruelly wrenched                        away

from their autumn

dinner.

 

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2019

 

Silly-Savvy Poem – Fully Flipped

Savvy Book – Giving a F**k

Silly Story – Meatup?

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Meetup.

There was something about the word that drew me in. Or, rather, something that drew my tongue out.

Meetup.

“Eat up!” my grandmother used to say. “Come on, eat up! I made it especially for you – it’s your favourite!”

But I didn’t eat up. Instead, I put my feet up, up and onto the vacant chair opposite. Grandfather, the chair’s usual occupant, was busy tending to his chickens. And, with my feet up, my long legs made an excellent table; a table within a table – not at all dissimilar to the set of leather-topped-mahogany nesting tables in Grandmother’s lounge. My legable, though, being more akin to white birch than rich mahogany – white with a tracing-paper topping!

Still, I had made a table and, upon it, I placed a secret stash of the legs of others. I had, at one time, been a lover of roasted chicken, but that was before I had become aware of its origin. Only the previous day, the legs on my knee had been topped with a body, and that body had been topped with a head.  And, being complete, that hen had been perfectly content clucking and pecking its way around Grandfather’s hen-run. 

Meetup.

In general, I preferred my own company, being somewhat of a hermit to my own mind. But, on seeing the online ad for a Meetup of ‘Imaginative Minds’ at Butcher’s Inn, I knew that – at last – this was the call. It was the sign that I had, for all of my long life to date, been waiting for. For, at that time, I was only two days away from my eighty-ninth birthday. I was, unlike many others of my age, still in reasonably good health and, as such, perfectly content to cluck around in the confines of my own territory. But, I knew that to have any hope of maintaining my current level of fitness, I would have to respond to the Good Lord promptly. The call, now that it had come, would not wait for ever.

I was, of course, the first to arrive at the venue, so I ordered a drink from the bar, found a cosy corner tucked behind a partition wall, and set up a little table arrangement of notepad and pens. Marked out thus as a Meetup attendee, I settled myself down to await my company.

A hapless-looking face peered around the partition.

“You here for the Meetup group?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Come and join me! A drink? My round. What would you like?”

“Oooh! Oooh, yes please! A pint of Old Fool?”

All sprightly – revved up by his lack of chivalry, and by my anticipation of what was to come – I proceeded to the bar and procured the deal.

“Thank you! You needn’t have. But thank you anyway!” came my companion’s hollow appreciations, accompanied by a rather loud slurp. “Thank you, this is is a much needed thirst-quencher! I thought I was late – had difficulty finding the venue –  but looks like I’m early!”

“No. No, I don’t think you’re early. In fact, you are twenty minutes late. It’s just that no-one else is here yet. Perhaps it’s just us!”

“Yes, perhaps you’re right. But, at least you’re here. Thank goodness for that! It’s my first time at one of these groups – I was really nervous about meeting lots of people. How about you? You been before?”

“Yes. Yes! Sorry, I mean no! No, in that I haven’t been to a Meetup before. And, yes, as in yes it’s my first time too! Oh dear, what a load of muddled old nonsense I’m talking! Must be the Chardonnay!”

“That’s great! Not the Chardonnay! I mean that’s great that we’re both new together. New, in old sort of a way I mean! Ha, ha! Oh, sorry. I didn’t meant to suggest that … ”

“Of course you didn’t. Of course. And, yes, I am old. So  no offence taken! We can sit here looking old and foolish together. Seems it’s just us. No agenda. No Chairman. Just us. You imaginative?”

“Yes, yes. I am. I’m a poet. How about you?”

“Me? Oh, yes. I’m imaginative. I cook. I use all my late grandmother’s traditional recipes, because, although, as you say, I’m old, my memory’s still sharp. Chicken casseroles, chicken pies, chicken soup – you name it and I can cook it. I do, of course, add a little extra ingredient of my own each time – a modern twist! And then? Then my tasters check them out. If the dear little dogs wolf the stuff down, I write the recipe up and sell it online. Got quite a little business going!”

“You use the internet?”

“Yes, of course. How else would an old bird like me keep up with what’s going on in the outside world? How would I have found out about this wonderful Meetup group? It’s not every day I manage to get out of the house!”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that old, sorry older,  people can’t use computers. It’s just that … Well, I’m past seventy myself … and I’ve never touched the things. It was my son who told about this group. Seems to think I should move on, like my ex-wife – move on and stop bothering him for news about her. Anyway, the old methods have always served me well.  I  handwrite my poems and stick them in the post.”

“Very sensible. Only last week, my laptop crashed and I lost all my … But, you don’t want to hear about that! Do you have one of your poems with you?”

“Er, no! I wasn’t sure what the format of this meeting was. Wasn’t sure what I was required to bring!”

“Me neither. But, I did bring some paper and pens. Shall we get creative? How about helping me with a new recipe I’m thinking of trying out. What do you think about the idea of adding some …”

“Yes, yes. Whatever you think. But. I’m sorry. I’m suddenly feeling a touch queasy. Can you …”

“Now, now! Don’t worry. We need to get you out of here. You don’t look at all well. Very pale! Now, my bungalow is just around the corner from here. Come along with me and I’ll make you a nice cuppa. That, with a slice of chicken pie, and we’ll soon have you sorted! Here, take my arm. I might be old, but I can still stand on my own two feet!”

He didn’t argue with me. Didn’t object. He couldn’t.

It wasn’t at all difficult getting him back to my place. As he said himself, he was past seventy, past caring, and past it. Not at all fleshy. Just a pile of skin and sticks. But I’ve never been greedy. My needs are minimal.

I helped the poor-lost-old soul into a kitchen chair and made us both a cuppa. Settling myself down into my own chair, opposite, I reached under and lifted his feet up. Up and onto my knees. It was time.

Time for the old hen’s revenge.

With an ageing cockerel at my disposal, and all the tools of the trade to hand, my creative juices went wild. And oh what fun I had that day with the toppings! Thank the Good Lord for old birds and grandmothers!

Meetup?

“Eatup!”

Meatup?

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, September 2019

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

Static in North Wales – Friday

Jay Cool’s Hubby shares his impressions of Wales, in a series of daily letters to his work colleagues (now, with permission granted, shared with the world)!

towyn jerry3

Friday – In bed

I feel dead.

You know that thing where amputees can still feel pain in phantom limbs, well that’s me. Bits of me are hurting that I’m sure I don’t even have.

See you all soon.

Jed

Copyright owned by Hubby Cool

Static in North Wales – Thursday

Jay Cool’s Hubby shares his impressions of Wales, in a series of daily letters to his work colleagues (now, with permission granted, shared with the world)!

Thursday – Snowdon

This is what it’s all about – Man against the elements.

On a clear day you can see a The Isle of Man. Sadly, today is not a clear day, and you could barely see any man, and then only if he was stood directly in front of you with his nose pressed against yours.

But that’s not the point. I feel so alive!

Jed

Copyright owned by Hubby Cool

Please read, like and comment on the following posts;

Pure

Savvy Book – Giving a F**k

Savvy North Wales – Static Wednesday

Jay Cool’s Hubby shares his impressions of Wales, in a series of daily letters to his work colleagues (now, with permission granted, shared with the world)!

funfair

Wednesday – Towyn Funfair

Buoyed up by the fact we’d survived this far, we decided to risk going to Towyn funfair this evening. We attempted to walk to it along the seawall, but before we’d even arrived, our path was blocked by a drugs deal. To be fair, they were very polite dealers, apologising for obstructing the path. Entering the fair put me in mind of entering an Al Quaeda training camp (in a movie, I hasten to add, not in real life) with sentries (lookouts) posted on all the high points.

Within moments,  we walked into the same dealer selling a wrap to a kid at the other entrance to the fair. It was so obvious, even our youngest (Sprog 3) knew what was going on, and one of his lieutenants, feeling he had to say something, blurted out “Nothing illegal going on here”.

Anyway, I spent the next 3 hours watching the dealers watching me watch the dealers. Within 10 minutes, I could even tell you their car reg. One thing struck me, as I watched the pace of deals tail off – it didn’t seem a very good economic model they were operating, there seemed to be an awful lot of lookouts on the payroll. Perhaps they operate an internship, lookouts working for free in the hope of impressing the boss and working their way up the pusher ladder to a paid position.

One thing that I began to realise accounted for the inordinate number of lookouts was that the carnies themselves had posted some (Carnies – fairground workers, from ‘carnival’, I presume, although possibly from ‘carnivore’, since some of them look like they might eat you.) These two groups appeared to operate largely independently, grudgingly accepting each other’s presence, probably in the knowledge that at times they would probably end up fighting alongside one and other against a common foe – Mods, Bikers, drunken tourists.

I don’t suppose there’s much mileage in the Carnies taking on the dealers since the police obviously aren’t interested (and they probably don’t want to arrest these dealers for fear of them immediately being replaced by some less polite ones -better the devil you know.)

Anyway, great day out for the kids. Very educational.

 

Jed

Copyright owned by Hubby Cool

Please read, like and comment on the following posts:

To Be Eaten

Pure

Savvy North Wales – Static Tuesday

Jay Cool’s Hubby shares his impressions of Wales, in a series of daily letters to his work colleagues (now, with permission granted, shared with the world)!

sealife

Tuesday – Rhyl Seaquarium

Does what it says on the tin. It’s an aquarium which contains sea creatures.

Highlights – Parent replying to kid that these fish didn’t have batter as they were a different species.(Actually, I might have dreamt that.)

Rhyl is like a themed resort. If you wanted the genuine experience of a rundown English resort, but without travelling all the way to Norfolk, here it is – the verisimilitude of Great Yarmouth.

Jed

Copyright owned by Hubby Cool

Please read, like and comment on the following posts:

The Resistance

English & Proud?

 

Savvy North Wales – Static Monday

Jay Cool’s Hubby shares his impressions of Wales, in a series of daily letters to his work colleagues (now, with permission granted, shared with the world)!

Monday –Conway

conwy jerry

 

Hi All,

Just a heads up for anyone planning a visit to North Wales this summer.

Conway is a beautiful walled medieval town, with a picturesque castle, built by the English at a time when we couldn’t help poking our noses into the Welsh’s business. Fortunately, these are more enlightened times, and we don’t do that sort of thing anymore.

On our visit, however, I couldn’t help noticing that, probably as a result of penny pinching on the part of the council, some inept contractor had missed all of the ‘a’s out of Conway on the roadsigns. I felt it my civic duty, as atonement for past English sins, and in repayment for the warm Welsh hospitality, to add in all the missing ‘a’s with a marker pen. My efforts were rewarded with enthusiastic cries from the locals of the traditional Welsh greeting ‘pen dick’.

Soon, we were being treated to a full blown traditional Welsh parade, with traditional Welsh pitchforks and traditional Welsh burning torches. The celebrations seemed to be getting a bit out of hand, so we decided it was prudent to make our excuses and leave. Not before time it seems. There are always a few people who have to spoil it for everyone (although, to be fair, this did appear to be everyone).

Anyway, Sarah, if you were thinking of visiting, I’d leave it a couple of years, until the furore has died down a bit, and they’ve rebuilt the castle. (Symbol of English oppression, indeed.)

Jed

Copyright owned by Hubby Cool

Please read, like and comment on the following:

62: The Chilton Snapper

Apperception