Tag Archives: egg throwing

Edinburgh Fringe, Day 24: The Malcolm Hardee Comedy Award winners 2017

The late, out-standing comic Malcolm Hardee.

The final increasingly prestigious Malcolm Hardee Comedy Awards Show took place in the ballroom of Edinburgh’s Counting House.

The winners chosen by the five judges earlier in the day, with awards presented by critic Kate Copstick and Malcolm’s sister Clare Hardee during the show, were:

MALCOLM HARDEE AWARD FOR COMIC ORIGINALITY
Terry Alderton for his successful self-reinvention and, well, for originality

MALCOLM HARDEE CUNNING STUNT AWARD
Mark Dean Quinn for his simple yet successful subversion of the star system of comedy reviews by putting other people’s quotes and stars on his own flyers.

THE ACT MOST LIKELY TO MAKE A MILLION QUID AWARD
Rob Kemp, currently performing in the Elvis Dead.

The Awards Show, compered by Molotov Cocktail street anarchist and comic Becky Fury, concluded with the increasingly prestigious annual Scottish Russian Egg Roulette Championship supervised by Andy Dunlop, President of the World Egg Throwing Federation and John Deptford, Vice President of the World Egg Throwing Federation.

Italian comic Luca Cupani is now officially the 2017 Scottish National Russian Egg Roulette Champion, having previously represented British comedy in Canada.

I have to add, with some humility, that I was also the recipient of a surprise prize for my work on the Malcolm Hardee Comedy Awards over the last ten years: 16 cans of Red Bull, bought by the three female members of the judging panel for supervisory services rendered.

Earlier in the day, World Egg Throwing President Andy Dunlop revealed to me that there has been a recent outbreak of exploding intestines across the UK.

“There is methane produced inside the human body,” former-fireman Andy explained, “and when you have surgery using laser scalpels, that is enough to ignite it and there have been a number of fatalities in operating theatres in which intestines exploded into the room.”

Vice President John Deptford, who (this is true) left for Peru four hours after the Awards Show finished, took 7 seconds of video footage of the two hour show.

Brevity can be a virtue.

Context is King.

The ballroom of The Counting House was left with some unfortunate egg stains, indelible memories and an inexplicable smell of paraffin.

You had to be there.

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Filed under Comedy, Surreal

A potpourri of Plantar Fasciitis, the Egg Throwing President, farting & the Pope

I saw the back of Andy Dunlop as I left yesterday

The prestigious Andy Dunlop

I think the word for this late-posted blog today is ‘potpourri’ in lieu of any transcription time.

Various people who read yesterday’s blog suggested various sources of various Chinese medicines to me.

Andy Dunlop, the already highly prestigious President of the World Egg Throwing Federation, picked up on the thought that I may have got Plantar Fasciitis in my right foot. He wrote, with the merest hint of self-publicity:

I got Plantar Fasciitis in one foot and the other later following ‘flying’ off Worthing Pier to win the 2012 Worthing International Birdman’s Kingfisher Class.

The Worthing International Birdman is an annual competition in which human ‘birdmen’ attempting to ‘fly’ off the end of a pier into the English Channel. These attempts tend to end in ignominious failure. Andy continued:

My aim was to manage 100metres (to win £10,000) then turn left, head for France, land, stock up on beer, take off and fly back. This plan was curtailed when I only managed to fly 18 metres, including 11 metres downwards. I hit the water, feet first, at around 35mph. This tends to damage a foot and causes it to stretch. It was bloody agony. 

I am not allowed to take part in the Birdman contest any more as my wife says the risk of injury is too great for her to bear my groans and moans. 

This blog’s occasional Canadian correspondent Anna Smith also contacted me, asking:

Might there be a pain clinic in London? There is a pain clinic at St. Paul’s Hospital here in Vancouver. It is something to do with retraining your mind to react differently to the nerve impulses which are telling you you are in pain. Neuroplasticity, it is called. There is a book called The Brain That Changes ItselfYou might also suffer less pain if you stay away from comedians.

Anna Smith in her Vancouver hospital

Anna Smith, on a recent low-key visit to a Vancouver hospital

Anna continued:

I just had an appointment confirmation email from Cardiac Care at St. Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver. I learned a new word. Apparently I am an aortopath.

Then she got a little off-subject:

Don’t even think of asking (she named a British comedian) about drugs. They never had any effect on him whatsoever. He is one of that small percentage of people whose mind is utterly unresponsive to THC. When I was in Lonon, he could never fathom why I would impulsively grab £5 and bolt down to Brixton. He seemed to think I went to those clubs because I wanted black men to put their hands into my pockets.

The only time I ever saw him high was late one night after a party in a photography studio in Soho. We had eaten some carrot cake at the party and were walking over Waterloo Bridge afterwards. He made a comment about the reflections in the river looking pretty. This was completely out of character for him. So I realised it must have been a very strong carrot cake. Other than that momentary observation about the lights, his composure was completely unaffected.

I did go and meet three senators one night at a very luxurious Vancouver airport hotel four years ago. It seemed a little odd to be meeting senators in a hotel room for non sexual purposes.

I went there with three other friends to petiton the senators not to close staffed lighthouses along the coast. Our lighthouses are not automated as they are in the UK. But our coastline is far more jagged and isolated. Boaters, especially fishermen, have had their lives and vessels saved innumerable times by the light keepers… Somehow I became fairly involved with that battle even though my boat has never been out of the river.

Alright, it was actually two senators and an Olympic ski champion, but the skier was also a senator, so I guess that does make three senators in total.

The senators had no idea that I was an ex-comedienne. They thought I was an angry mariner.

I grew up along the banks of the Mississippi. Actually, the city was on the Mississippi but our house was closer to the zoo. We could hear lions roaring as we fell asleep.

After this, my chum Mr Methane, who was on a secret farting mission to Italy this week, e-mailed me, totally ignoring my tragic foot (and shoulder) pain:

The Daily Mirror spotted a resemblance between Jim Bowen (left) and Pope Francis

The Daily Mirror spotted a resemblance between purveyor of beloved populist fantasy Jim Bowen (left) and Pope Francis

I am back home in England. I have been travelling all day. No direct flights so I had to go via Germany. I had a ride on an open top bus in Rome yesterday and thought I saw Jim Bowen in a shop doorway but it was, in fact, a life size Pope Francis cut-out. I have bought you a Pope Francis fridge magnet from a souvenir stall outside the Colosseum in Rome, I thought you would like it as he really does look just like Jim Bowen.

This rubbed salt in my wounds, as I was recently passed-over for the role of Pope Francis in an upcoming pop video.

Life can be cruel.

But I am available to play the part of Jim Bowen in any upcoming pop videos.

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Filed under Drugs, Eccentrics, Medical

When an oeuf is an oeuf at the annual World Egg Throwing Championships

World Egg Throwing Federation President Andy Dunlop with enthusiastic tosser

World Egg Throwing Federation President Andy Dunlop with enthusiastic young tosser

At the annual World Egg Throwing Championships in Lincolnshire, no edible eggs are used, so no food is wasted. Sort of.

There are long-distance egg throwing and catching contests. There is the Trebuchet competition where contestants use home-made giant catapults (based on medieval siege engines) to throw eggs. And, of course, there is Russian Egg Roulette.

In 2012, I was runner-up in the Russian Egg Roulette Championship. I had high hopes of doing even better last year but, beneath my hard-boiled exterior lies a wobbly centre. I cracked under the pressure of high eggpectations and was beaten in the first round. For months afterwards, my mind was scrambled and I was merely a shell of the man I had once been.

My view as smashed Englishman Jerry Cullen fails

My view as smashing Englishman Jerry Cullen fails

This year – the year of the Scottish Independence vote, when my country of birth may at last free itself from the yolk of English oppression – I had hopes I could show the heathen English what true Scotch eggs competitors are made of.

World Egg Throwing Federation President Andy Dunlop tells me that 64 people started the Russian Egg Roulette Championships yesterday. He may be over-egging it. I think there might have been 32. But there were certainly a lot.

To remind you, Russian Egg Roulette is the sport in which two contestants face each other across a table on which there stands a box of six eggs: five hard-boiled, one raw. Contestants take turns to smash an egg on their forehead. The one who discovers the raw egg loses. It is a knockout competition. Sometimes literally.

I bring shame on the Scottish nation yesterday (Photograph by Gail Deptfod)

I let down myself and the entire Scottish nation yesterday (Photograph by Gail Deptfod)

Yesterday, I triumphed in the early rounds, beating my 2012 nemesis Jerry Cullen – who was wearing an England football shirt, I think, just to rile me.

I triumphed in the Quarter Finals, but then I was shamed by Fate in the Semi-Finals. I suspected fowl play.

I consoled myself by talking to former World Gravy Wrestling champion Joel Hicks.

Joel Hicks scrambling for safety yesterday

Joel Hicks was scrambling for safety yesterday

When we chatted for my blog last year at the World Egg Throwing Championships, he was a human target dressed as a boxer and as a Samurai Warrior. This year, he was the anarchist hero of V For Vendetta.

“You been doing anything interesting this week?” I asked him.

“I did the Mud Runner Oblivion yesterday,” he told me. “That’s a 10k mud run near Gloucester. I’m absolutely shattered. I write for Obstacle Race magazine, so I do all the mud runs.”

Obstacle Race magazine?” I asked. “Has that got a big circulation?”

“Yes,” said Joel. “It’s sold in WH Smiths. It is a massive, massive industry these days. Things like Tough GuyTough Mudder. There’s so many and it’s a million dollar industry.”

“Tough Mudder?” I asked.

Joel Hicks: a man egged-on to do charity work

Joel Hicks: a man egged-on to do charity work

“Tough Mudder,” Joel confirmed.

“Do you get paid for any of these events?” I asked. “It’s all for charity?”

“It’s all part of the Always With a Smile Foundation, which is what I do in my spare time to try and keep people smiling. It’s tiring stuff sometimes, though not as painful as today.”

“Painful?” I asked.

“Yeah. You wanna stand here and have eggs hurled at you by grown men at 100mph who have no thought for how it feels when it hits.”

“Do you wear a cricket box over your genitals?” I asked.

“No. Every year, I think I should have some protection but I kinda feel it’s cheating.”

Joel Hicks with right hand egg man John Deptford

Joel Hicks with the Championships’ l’eggman John Deptford

This coming Saturday, Joel is taking part in The Color Run in Manchester.

“It’s a race franchise,” he told me, “where you run 5k and start in white but every kilometre they throw coloured powder over you. Then, on Sunday, it’s a trip to Wales for The Naked Run, which is 5k, usually in good weather. The weather affects some men more than others.

“The weekend after that, on Saturday I’ll be down on the South Coast for the Worthing Birdman competition where they build flying machines and jump off the pier. And then back up to Wolverhampton on Sunday for the Tough Guy event called Nettle Warrior, which is their summer obstacle course race.”

“Nettle Warrior,” I said, “sounds painful.”

“It IS very painful,” replied Joel. “A 10-12 mile cross-country run followed by a 2-mile, purpose-built, multi-million pound assault course.”

One girl did not have to throw so far yesterday

One little girl yesterday was right on target with her egg

“An assault course of nettles?” I asked.

“No no,” said Joel, “all sorts of contraptions. The nettles come in, really, in the 10-12 mile cross-country run.”

“Have they put the nettles in for you?” I asked.

“They grow naturally,” said Joel. “Six or seven feet high all on their own. They design the course to the features on the ground. Ah! There’s some nettles! We’ll make then run through that bit!”

A typical egg-plosion yesterday

A typical egg-plosion yesterday. The pun never ends.

I’m busy all through the year. Fifty-odd events every year.”

“Very odd,” I said.

“Every weekend and sometimes twice,” said Joel.

“Out of the frying pan…” I said.

In August, World Egg Throwing Federation President Andy Dunlop will be supervising the Scottish National Russian Egg Roulette Championships during the Edinburgh Fringe as part of the Increasingly prestigious Malcolm Hardee Comedy Awards Show. He may or may not be accompanied by his trusty l’oeuftenant John Deptford.

I saw the back of Andy Dunlop as I left yesterday

I was glad to see the back of Andy Dunlop yesterday

In a few days, Andy is off to Holland for their Egg Throwing Championships. He will be back.

But John Deptford is going to Siberia on Friday and has no idea when he will be back, if at all. The insects may kill him. He is going to Mirny where, he tells me, “the mosquitos have been known to carry babies away and the best mosquito repellent is a shotgun.”

Yesterday, as I left the Championship Field in Lincolnshire, Andy Dunlop was being pelted with the remaining eggs. I hope this will become an annual tradition. Andy does not. This morning, he told me he had a serious lip injury.

For more on Eggmen, I refer you to The Beatles’ I Am The Walrus

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Filed under Charity, Eccentrics, Humor, Humour, Sport

My egg throwing goes into a new text book and financial provocateur Max Keiser launches his own currency

My blog yesterday was about giving a speech at comedian Chris Luby’s funeral.

An earlier choice for speaker had been juggler Steve Rawlings, who toured the UK with Chris. But it turned out he was in Berlin. He had got scouted by Cirque du Soleil, gone out to meet them and become part of their artist list.

Last night (still in Berlin) he told me:

“One of my favourite memories of Chris was when he was struggling to get gigs and I’d got him one in a club down in the South of England and had picked him up at his house and taken him to the gig.

“He did a great show, of course, and afterwards went off to the bar to celebrate while I went off to do my act.

Chris Luby R.I.P

Chris Luby recreated movie Zulu in the UK

“At the end of the night, after the gig, I found him at the bar totally drunk doing his impersonation of the songs and chants of the Zulu army – as in the movie Zulu – when they attacked Rorke’s Drift, complete with spear and shield motions.

“He was performing this to two very large and very angry-looking black guys.

“I managed to drag him away before someone killed him, but the funny thing was – being Chris – all the sounds and words of the chants would have been 100% accurate and it would never have occurred to him that sharing this knowledge with two big black guys would have caused offence.”

Steve also remembered: “Playing Trivial Pursuits with Chris was a bit pointless as he knew all the answers and would only stop going around the board when he got one wrong on purpose so you would keep playing with him”.

If you are reading this blog on the day it was posted, there is a high likelihood I will still be making my own way to Germany. I am travelling to Leipzig with comedian Nick Revell (unless something goes wrong with the trains) for the first gig at Vivienne and Martin Soan’s new Leipzig club – a sort of Pull The Other One East – at Noch Besser Leben (which translates as Still Better Living). Obviously, Nick is performing and I am not. Martin and Vivienne are not that experimental nor mental.

Going to Leipzig seemed like a good idea when it was first suggested and still seems a fairly good idea despite the fact it is a 12-hour train trip.

When this blog’s occasional Canadian correspondent Anna Smith heard I was going to Leipzig, her reaction was: “Not Leipzig, Saskatchewan, I hope!”

“Why?” I asked. So far, there has been no response.

The wonderful world of sexist, slobbering Wilfredo

The wonderful world of sexist, slobbering Wilfredo

Comedian Matt Roper’s response was: “I’m in San Francisco, showering them with spittle tonight (as his character Wilfredo), then off to Los Angeles tomorrow. Nothing really much to write about here, except that I finally managed to make it coast to coast across the US without flying!”

This seemed mildly eccentric – and then I opened three bizarre e-mails one-after-the-other.

The first was from publishers Pearson Education, asking if they could use 79 words from one of my 2012 blogs about the World Egg Throwing Championships in a new educational textbook they are producing titled Skills For Writing. They said: “We would like to request permission to include the material, within the electronic components of our publication.”

I have no idea what this really means nor why they want to use 79 words from the blog, versions of which were re-published both in the UK edition of the Huffington Post and by the Indian news site WSN (We Speak News).

John Ward smashes the losing egg on his forehead

John Ward loses to me as he smashes an egg on his forehead

The blog’s headline was World Egg Throwing Championships: Cheaper and Funnier Than the Olympics and the words Pearson want to use are:

I triumphed in the Russian Egg Roulette heats in face-offs with two small children, who seemed to be the only children in the contest. I faced John Ward in the semi-final. I triumphed again.

In the grand final, I unfortunately faced a large man called Jerry Cullen, dressed in black and wearing sunglasses. The first four of the six eggs we smashed on our foreheads were hard-boiled, leaving only two more eggs – one for each of us…

The fact that Pearson Education wanted to use this in a textbook entitled Skills For Writing was a little surprising. But not as surprising as the next e-mail I opened, which told me that Max Keiser – whom I like to describe as an American financial provocateur who appears on Russian and Iranian TV and who has occasionally appeared in my blog… was launching his own currency last night, not totally dissimilar to Bitcoin. It is being called Maxcoin.

Max, in Paris, gives his opinions to Al Jazeera English

Max, in Paris, gives his opinions to Al Jazeera English channel

I asked Max to tell me more. He sent me an e-mail saying:

“Maxcoin is being developed at the University of Bristol which has some of the best crypto talent in the world. Anybody looking to get into a fast growing industry that pays incredibly well should look into their programs.”

This doesn’t help me much, but then he sent me an even more jaw-dropping e-mail detailing something that I am not allowed to talk about for another couple of weeks.

We live in interesting times, but then we always have.

Ashley Storrie, the daughter of my chum Janey Godley, has been nominated as Best New Scottish Comedian by Capital FM. The awards are being announced on 22nd March and you can vote here.

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Filed under Comedy, Finance, Germany, Publishing

More injured and bloody comedians cause chaos at the Edinburgh Fringe

Casual Violence - concentrated comedy

Casual Violence – injured minds, bloody strange, very funny

James Hamilton of comedy sketch group Casual Violence has been nominated for an increasingly prestigious Malcolm Hardee Award in two consecutive years for his bizarre writing. This year, Casual Violence are performing not one but two shows at the Edinburgh Fringe.

When I first saw one of Casual Violence’s shows, I wrote of  James: “I think he might need psychiatric help. Though not creative help. There’s something very original in there – I just don’t know what the fuck it is”

My opinion has not changed.

Yesterday afternoon, I was heading to see the new Casual Violence show House of Nostril at the Pleasance Courtyard when a tall young man handed me a flyer for Alexander Bennett’s Afraid of the Dark with Jorik Mol.

For some reason, I asked: “Are you Jorik Mol?”

“Yes, John,” he replied.

“People keep telling me I should meet you,” I said.

“We met a couple of years ago,” Jorik said.

“I have a shit memory,” I told him, “Where have you been?”

“I was in Amsterdam for a year,” said Jorik.

“I’m not surprised,” I said, “You’re Dutch.”

Jorik Mol up against a wall at The Pleasance

Jorik Mol – very pleasant at The Pleasance yesterday

“I was convalescing from clinical depression,” continued Jorik, “I basically spent a year in a haulage container doing voices to myself.”

“Because?” I asked.

“Because what else is there to do in a haulage container? I also read Tolstoy’s War & Peace.”

“You mean the big metal containers they transport on ships?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“You need money to afford a haulage container,” I suggested.

“You don’t,” said Jorik. “I was given one. I was a student at the University of Amsterdam and they give them out to people who either live very far away from Amsterdam or who are strange. The containers have all been turned into flats. There’s a window at the front and a window at the back.”

“When did you stop living in a container?” I asked.

“I’m still officially living in a container in Amsterdam,” Jorik told me. “But I’m moving to London next month, going back on the comedy circuit and starting to study a Masters in Comparative Literature at University College, London.”

Jeremy Bentham sits, stuffed, at UCL

Jeremy Bentham sits, stuffed, at UCL

“Is that where Jeremy Bentham sits stuffed?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Jorik.

“And you’ll be gigging on the side?” I asked. “Comedy is difficult.”

“No,” said Jorik. “People say comedy is easy but, when you’ve been through severe clinical depression and hospitalisation, maybe everything is easy.”

“Ah…” I said. “Stand-up comedians and mental hospitals…”

“Mental hospitals are great,” said Jorik. “I was punched in a mental hospital. People in the mental hospital really fucking hated me.”

“Because?” I asked.

“Because,” said Jorik, “I’m young, I can speak and I can read novels. There was a guy in the mental hospital who was like the alpha male – he was like a white van man. He thought I was threatening his position in the ward. There were seven completely inert people there, three of whom had regular ECT treatment. So there wasn’t a lot of pride to rule over as the Lion King he thought himself to be.

“One day I woke up late, because I was on a lot of medication, and I was about five minutes late for finger painting or whatever I was supposed to do and the guy just came up to me and just knocked me out.

“I am pretty proud that I am so viscerally annoying that I annoyed someone out of severe inert depression.”

“It sounds like good training for playing comedy to British audiences,” I said.

“Absolutely,” said Jorik.

It turned out he and I were both at the Pleasance to see Casual Violence’s House of Nostril, as was uber-mindreader Doug Segal (he, of course, already knew in advance that we were going to bump into each other).

It was a full house as, indeed was Casual Violence’s other show – Om Nom Nominous at the Voodoo Rooms. It is their ‘greatest hits’ show which I also saw yesterday and, inevitably, it was very weird, very funny, strangely dark, strangely melancholic and the full house pissed themselves laughing.

PekkaStrangeboneComedyShowpiece

Pekka & Strangebone’s accident-prone Fringe show

I also saw Pekka & Strangebone’s Comedy Showpiece at the Voodoo Rooms – another odd sketch show with a dash of darkness added to basic (this is a good thing) silliness. There were three cast members. One had twisted his ankle – the bone had popped out then popped back in again. He had had to go to A&E earlier in the day. Another of the trio had fallen onto a piece of broken glass in the Meadows and gouged a great bloody hole in his hand. He had had to go to A&E earlier in the day.

When I came out of their show, I told them they should try to get publicity on the basis of being the most accident-prone show in town – or the show with most accidents soonest. Then (this is true) I checked my iPhone for e-mails and there was one from this blog’s occasional Canadian correspondent Anna Smith. It was headed:

PLEASE, NO MORE INJURED AND BLOODIED COMEDIANS…

I thought I started to hear the theme music from The Twilight Zone.

The Malcolm Hardee Comedy Awards disasters

The increasingly medically challenged Malcolm Hardee Comedy Awards Show

Then I opened another message. It told me that Miss Behave – who broke her heel in Dublin a few weeks ago and is compere of the increasingly prestigious Malcolm Hardee Comedy Awards Show on Friday 23rd August… is NOT.

The message read:

“Not possible for me to stay without cutting my foot off and clubbing myself to death with it.”

Miss Behave, rightly, is going back to London to recuperate rather than continuing to damage herself by leaping around Fringe shows in Edinburgh.

I asked Janey Godley – the comedienne who can handle any situation – if she could compere the Malcolm Hardee show instead. She said Yes. Yippee!

Then I opened another e-mail…

It was from Andy Dunlop, the President of the World Egg Throwing Federation. He will be supervising the Scottish national Russian Egg Roulette Championships at the increasingly prestigious Malcolm Hardee Comedy Awards Show on Friday 23rd August. Except that he will not be…

The e-mail said:

Andy Dunlop in happier days

President Andy Dunlop in happier days

I am meant to be in Australia right now but I am not…..

My wife is unwell and starts Iodine 131 radiotherapy on Friday. Currently she is exhausted, can’t sleep, faints a lot, is over heated and very very grumpy.

As from this Friday she will also be radioactive for some considerable time and in quarantine at home for at least 14 days. This prevents her from being left alone, cuddling cats or sleeping with husband. She is upset about item 2.

My suggestion that I bugger off to Edinburgh for a few days may lead to suffering from a beating and probably divorce although it would reduce my risk of cross contamination by gamma and beta emitters.

I am unable to predict her recovery and thus am unlikely to make it for the 23rd but John Deptford, our World Vice President, is available due to his Russian Visa not coming through.  He is better than I at compering. Can he crash at yours?

I said Yes.

But it is going to be a crowded night in my Edinburgh flat on Friday 23rd August.

There will be me, John Deptford, Martin Soan, Mr Methane.

Four men and one bed.

It could be a Richard Curtis comedy.

If Mr Methane farts, he may die.

Perhaps all of us will.

So it goes.

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Filed under Comedy, Edinburgh, Holland, Humor, Humour

Criminal eggs and Canadian paintballers turned terrorists

The after effects of sunshine in Britain

The after effects of one day of unexpected sunshine in Britain

I still bear the scars of last weekend’s Word Egg Throwing Championships.

The ignominy of defeat has faded slightly, but now the skin on my forehead and the top of my head has started to flake. It was sunny all day in Lincolnshire last Sunday. Who knew such a thing could happen in Britain in June?

When I have a full day of sunshine and no lotion, my skin burns, I go red and a few days later – which is now – I start to flake. I am leaving little white flakes of me wherever I go whenever I rub my head. It is not an attractive physical characteristic.

Meanwhile, still on the subject of eggs, yesterday I got an e-mail from this blog’s occasional Canadian correspondent, Anna Smith in Vancouver. When she last wrote a week ago, she was claiming it was a bit dull in the Dominion. Now she tells me things are perking up a bit. Her e-mail started thus:

“NAKED INTRUDER COOKS EGGS, say the headlines. A man broke into a house near Trout Lake, had a shower and was frying himself some eggs when he was discovered by the home owner. The clean naked egg frying  intruder has been receiving compliments from admirers on the comments pages of the local news.”

When he was confronted by the surprised home-owner he fled the scene, still naked and was arrested later by police, near Trout Lake, still naked.

Vancouver cop Brian Montague

Cop Brian Montague has advice on how to avoid naked men

According to CBC TV News, this happened at 7.00pm in the evening and Vancouver police constable Brian Montague reported: “We think he was on drugs at the time. I don’t know exactly what drugs, This incident highlights the need for homeowners to be careful about leaving doors and windows open during the warm summer weather. 400 of the 1,157 residential break-ins this year showed no sign of forced entry. Ensuring your doors and windows are locked is a simple deterrent.”

Meanwhile elsewhere, Anna tells me…

“In Surrey – a wretched and rapidly growing city on the eastern shore of the Fraser River occupying the psychic position of Essex to London – a young couple have been arrested on Vancouver Island, and accused of being home grown terrorists, with pressure cooker bombs similar to the ones used in Boston. They’re supposed to have planned to  cause explosions during Canada Day celebrations outside the provincial legislature buildings.

“The male of the pair had been a punk musician and anarchist, but lately things had gone downhill… Acquaintances of the couple have reacted in disbelief and have suggested that they must have been assisted… Others were amazed that the pair had made it all the way from Surrey to Vancouver island (about sixty kilometers) and wondered how they had managed to afford the (£10) ferry ride…”

John Nuttall, paintballer turned accused terrorist

John Nuttall (right) Canadian paintballer turned terrorist

According to CBC, on Canada Day last year, the two accused – John Nuttall and his wife Amanda Korody – planned to celebrate Canada’s freedom from England “by shooting each other in the face with brightly coloured paintballs.”

Fellow paintballer Randy Tetzlaff was quoted as saying that Amanda Korody came to play only once that he could remember and seemed intimidated by the game. Then she and Nuttall stopped coming last August, and he never saw them again.

Nine months ago on a YouTube, Nuttall responded to another commenter who insulted Muhammad:

“Hey kafir, you wanna say that to my face? I am a Mujahid and, inshAllah, I will die a Shaheed!” (ie “I am a Muslim who believes in jihad and, God-willing, I will die a martyr.”) He added: “Call me so we can set this up,” and included his phone number.

Meanwhile, says Anna…

Anna Smith ignores the BBC in Canada

Anna Smith enjoyed her Canada Day 2013

“On Canada Day this year I escaped from downtown and went out into the Annacis Channel of the Fraser River on a Zodiac inflatable boat.

“Several irregularly shaped compressions appeared, crop circle like, on the beds of water reeds that dart out from the downstream tip of Annacis Island. I named them aqua circles and tried to imagine a monster capable of creating such a massive flattening.

“Perhaps a shoal of giant mud eels? An amphibian white sturgeon? As the sun set, I watched the shadows sharpen on Mount Baker, the snow covered volcano that stands like Mount Fuji to the south. A local artist took dozens of photos of Mount Baker from different angles, the way Hokusai did with his woodcuts, only the local ones featured trailer parks and dredger moorings for the foreground.

“Oh – I almost forgot to mention – There is also a syphilis epidemic.”

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Filed under Canada, Humor, Humour, Terrorism

Glastonbury, Comics, Gits, Canadians and the fire on Anarchist Mountain

The Glastonbury Festival in 2003

The Glastonbury Festival ten years ago – back in June 2003

As I write this, the annual Glastonbury Festival is in full swing.

I wish I were there. It started  last Friday. My father died last Thursday, back in 2001, twelve years ago. So it goes.

Last night, in my car, I listened to an unreleased CD by The Gits, a punk-like band from around 1990 which comprised English comedy performers Steve Bowditch, Stephen Frost and Canadian Alan Marriott. (These UK-based Gits are not to be confused with the Seattle band The Gits.)

They played at Glastonbury.

The UK-based Gits.

Alan Marriott returned to Vancouver in 2008.

I was going to blog about them this morning – the UK-based Gits.

Once heard, never forgotten.

But, when I woke up this morning, I received an e-mail from this blog’s occasional Canadian correspondent Anna Smith. Like Alan Marriott, she lives in Vancouver. She has been having medical problems, as previously mentioned in this blog. Today she wrote:

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Anna Smith in her Vancouver hospital

Anna Smith, recently blogged-about, in a Vancouver hospital

It is so dull here at the moment.

I am in an apartment near the edge of Stanley Park.

In the summer, the cacophony is zoo-like… gulls screeching, small dogs yelping, noisy joggers, cyclists and skateboarders yelling, patio party drunks roaring with loud laughter, drunker heart-broken young people howling as they run down the echoing corridors of 1970s apartment buildings, women cackling, toddlers wailing, cars pumping out disco music, horns honking, motorcycle engines roaring….

Soon we will have the Gay Pride Parade and the Festival of Fire (a fireworks competition) and the whole of downtown Vancouver will be clogged with suburbanites with toddlers pissing down their necks.

The bear attacks in the suburbs have subsided and the surgical mask bank robber has been captured, after about fourteen hold ups.

The navigator who was in command of the Queen of the North ferry, when it sank four years ago, has been sentenced to four years in jail. But his ex-lover is still on the loose. New laws are being drafted to prevent ex-lovers from being alone together on the bridge of a ship. There is no evidence that they were ex-lovers, though, as nobody has a clue what they were doing when the ship ploughed straight into the rock.

All the excitement at the moment seems to be occurring on the other side of the Rocky Mountains, where the floods have detached much of the city of Calgary and a city called High River is still under water, despite the ring dykes which are dotted across the prairies. Most of the water is draining into the Hudson Bay.

Too bad none of the floods wash through the civic governments in Toronto, Montreal and Laval, which are having so much difficulty cleaning themselves up.

Ottawa is making too much money to even bother.

On this side of the Rockies, it is just more of the usual summer accidents – people getting lost in the woods, drowning in waterfalls, small planes and gliders crashing into mountains.

Anarchist Mountain caught fire several weeks ago and more fires are expected, as we become engulfed by heat waves from the south. It all is very satisfying for the pine beetles.

It has suddenly become quiet outside. I think the sun must have set.

My health is OK.

Did you ever meet or speak with Arabella Churchill?

She very kindly used to telephone performers in the early spring to ask if we wanted to do the Glastonbury Festival. She died not too long ago. She was very encouraging to young comedy performers and had very kind and disarming manner.

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Arabella Churchill in 1967

Arabella Churchill in 1967; she is remembered fondly

Arabella Churchill died on 20th December 2007. So it goes. She ran the Theatre and Circus fields at Glastonbury, which included the Children’s and Comedy areas.

I wrote back to Anna this morning:

“I talked to Arabella on the phone a few times but never met her, despite walking past her organisers place at the Glastonbury Festival a few times. A pity.”

And, after I read Anna’s e-mail, I checked out Anarchist Mountain.

It was named after Richard G. Sidley, a settler from Ontario who arrived in 1885 and was appointed the first postmaster of the town of Sidley in 1895. He was later made Justice of the Peace and Customs Officer, but he was often called an anarchist, and the plateau previously called Larch Tree Hill became known locally as “the anarchist’s mountain”.

The name Anarchist Mountain was officially adopted on 6th June 1922.

Richard G. Sidley is remembered only as the origin of the mountain’s name.

So it goes.

I wish I were at Glastonbury. But, on the other hand, I am going to the World Egg Throwing Championships in Lincolnshire today.

So that is good.

There is a clip on YouTube of the fire on Anarchist Mountain.

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Filed under Canada, Comedy, Humor, Humour, UK