Sometimes I get the notion into my head that I should be a stand-up comedian.
I can't think of anything nicer. People paying money to listen to me going on about whatever inane shite comes to my addled, angry mind. People getting the joke and laughing along with me. People telling me I'm great even though I've not done anything of note, ever.
It'd be nice to get the recognition.
Why aren't there more Irish female comics? I mean comediennes (comedy hens?), obviously, not girl-on-girl porn mags (although the various sidebar ads in my favourite shitesites keep telling me there are gawgeous nekkid girls in Leixlip). Why aren't there more female comics, full stop? One Sunday paper recently tried to convince me that Sarah Silverman from the US was God's gift to laughing vagina-owners because... I think she called someone a faggot once or something. Have you seen The Aristocrats? She was the least funny thing in this most abysmal of documentaries. She was about as funny as herpes.
Nice hair, though.
Perhaps all the sarcastic, embittered bitches are too busy being my mother to jump on stage and call George Bush an idiot. There's a breasts-shaped gap in the market. Perhaps I should get behind a microphone and make snide remarks about the Pope.
I mean, how hard could it be? It's only standing up in front of a room filled with drunken skangers on hen nights and trying to get them to agree with you. People LOVE it when you think you're funny, when you claim to be able to make them laugh. Oh Christ, they love it. Especially with fourteen pints of cider inside them. And all that research you have to do on current affairs, all that reading of the news to be able to come up with some Wildeism on the state of Mary Harney's hair. Ah, no problem. And all that alcohol you have to drink in order to be seen as subversive. All those hangovers; great fucking craic altogether. All those drugs. All those cigarettes - no cunt likes a stand-up who praises the smoking ban. All that staying up late, memorising put-downs for every possible heckler. "Yeah, I'm fat and ugly and not very funny... takes one to know one, haha." All that beard-growing-chin-stroking, Tommy fucking Tiernan. All that stacatto bipolar weirdness, Dylan fucking Moran. All that illegal DVD selling, Dave McfuckingSavage. All that head-wrecking unfunny shiteness, Deirdre O'fuckingKane.
No fucking problem, boss. Bring it on.
Although... I did fall asleep during a Bill Hicks DVD yesterday. So I must be missing something. Possibly a funnybone.
PS: Dictionary.com defines a comedienne as: A woman professional entertainer who tells jokes or performs various other comic acts. Like bad blowjobs?
I can't think of anything nicer. People paying money to listen to me going on about whatever inane shite comes to my addled, angry mind. People getting the joke and laughing along with me. People telling me I'm great even though I've not done anything of note, ever.
It'd be nice to get the recognition.
Why aren't there more Irish female comics? I mean comediennes (comedy hens?), obviously, not girl-on-girl porn mags (although the various sidebar ads in my favourite shitesites keep telling me there are gawgeous nekkid girls in Leixlip). Why aren't there more female comics, full stop? One Sunday paper recently tried to convince me that Sarah Silverman from the US was God's gift to laughing vagina-owners because... I think she called someone a faggot once or something. Have you seen The Aristocrats? She was the least funny thing in this most abysmal of documentaries. She was about as funny as herpes.
Nice hair, though.Perhaps all the sarcastic, embittered bitches are too busy being my mother to jump on stage and call George Bush an idiot. There's a breasts-shaped gap in the market. Perhaps I should get behind a microphone and make snide remarks about the Pope.
I mean, how hard could it be? It's only standing up in front of a room filled with drunken skangers on hen nights and trying to get them to agree with you. People LOVE it when you think you're funny, when you claim to be able to make them laugh. Oh Christ, they love it. Especially with fourteen pints of cider inside them. And all that research you have to do on current affairs, all that reading of the news to be able to come up with some Wildeism on the state of Mary Harney's hair. Ah, no problem. And all that alcohol you have to drink in order to be seen as subversive. All those hangovers; great fucking craic altogether. All those drugs. All those cigarettes - no cunt likes a stand-up who praises the smoking ban. All that staying up late, memorising put-downs for every possible heckler. "Yeah, I'm fat and ugly and not very funny... takes one to know one, haha." All that beard-growing-chin-stroking, Tommy fucking Tiernan. All that stacatto bipolar weirdness, Dylan fucking Moran. All that illegal DVD selling, Dave McfuckingSavage. All that head-wrecking unfunny shiteness, Deirdre O'fuckingKane.
No fucking problem, boss. Bring it on.
Although... I did fall asleep during a Bill Hicks DVD yesterday. So I must be missing something. Possibly a funnybone.
PS: Dictionary.com defines a comedienne as: A woman professional entertainer who tells jokes or performs various other comic acts. Like bad blowjobs?
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