Oh, the glamour of setting up a Laughter-House comedy night.
I'm sure most Women of a Certain Age don't usually spend their evenings on their hands and knees with their bottoms in the air.
Or maybe they do. But if they do, are they likely to be clutching a thick black cable in one hand and wrestling with something rubbery in the other? Well maybe that's another yes.
That's the worse part of a Laughter-House Comedy Night. The best part is of course, an evening full of people laughing their socks off.
September's show included the interactive Paul Redwood who proved very popular, with lots of reminiscing about the old days, and involving everyone in his daughter's unique version of stone, scissors, paper. A classic.
Next up, Mark Simmonds,wonderful one liners and a really comfortable presence...a real find...
And then of course Mike Gunn, who kept the audience laughing for 40 minutes and seemed to thoroughly enjoy our little club. His list of the differences between men and women will be etched in more than a few memories for a while. As someone commented, "What an absolute professional..such smooth delivery".
Look out for him on Michael MacIntyres Comedy Roadshow......
So now to get ready for the next show..posters to prepare and a newsletter to write.....and all the anticipation of my next encounter with a piece of pliant rubber...
20 September 2010
6 September 2010
How to make your Mum Proud
So another prostitute has emerged, blinking into the daylight and shouting to the media about her liaison with a Premier League footballer.
Apparently all she wants to do is 'make her mother proud.'
So she sleeps with Wayne Rooney for a few hundred quid whilst his wife is pregnant, announces it to the world and then takes a cheeky swipe about HIS morals.
Her nickname is 'Premiership Jen'. She's boasted of sleeping with a further three Premier League footballers, and has claimed she performed a sex act on a well-known striker in a nightclub toilet before charging him £75.
Amazing isn't it. And very noble.
When I was a child, all I had to do to make my Mum proud was to avoid picking my nose in company.
Apparently all she wants to do is 'make her mother proud.'
So she sleeps with Wayne Rooney for a few hundred quid whilst his wife is pregnant, announces it to the world and then takes a cheeky swipe about HIS morals.
Her nickname is 'Premiership Jen'. She's boasted of sleeping with a further three Premier League footballers, and has claimed she performed a sex act on a well-known striker in a nightclub toilet before charging him £75.
Amazing isn't it. And very noble.
When I was a child, all I had to do to make my Mum proud was to avoid picking my nose in company.
22 July 2010
Joke Theft - Cheggers Plays Innocent
Question: Why did Keith Chegwin cross the road?
Answer? Probably to avoid several comedians whose gags he has tweeted to his Twitter followers, allegedly passing them off as his own.
Joke theft is currently a hot topic on the comedy circuit; the most recent furore surrounds Keith Chegwin, accused by Ed Byrne and other comedians of repeating their jokes without crediting the true authors.
The one-line comedians are suffering the most. Tim Vine, Gary Delaney and the wonderful Milton Jones all write clever, witty one-liners that are easily lifted. Some of their jokes appear on forums where members have been invited to post ‘their’ best jokes, which, of course, aren’t 'theirs' at all. As a writer/promoter myself, I immediately post a comment crediting the joke back.
There’s nothing much anyone can do about joke stealing, except personally challenge the offender, which of course is what is happening to Keith Chegwin. He’s been canny though; tweeting to his adoring followers that all he wants to do is make people happy but he is being 'bullied'.
Accordingly his followers are now up in arms defending their ‘Cheggers’, and referring to his adversaries as ‘twats’. In truth these ‘twats’ are likely to be many of the comedians who provide much of the material Keith Chegwin’s followers enjoy reading in his tweets.
Chegwin’s followers are telling Chegwin to ‘block them’ – but in truth wouldn’t that be biting the hand that feeds them?
If Keith Chegwin wishes to avoid being ‘bullied’ perhaps he should study the Twitter etiquette that dictates you should re-tweet a hilarious comment, rather than cutting and pasting it and passing it off as your own.
Then his claims to want to “make people happy” might just carry a bit more weight.
©Jan Jack 2010
Answer? Probably to avoid several comedians whose gags he has tweeted to his Twitter followers, allegedly passing them off as his own.
Joke theft is currently a hot topic on the comedy circuit; the most recent furore surrounds Keith Chegwin, accused by Ed Byrne and other comedians of repeating their jokes without crediting the true authors.
The one-line comedians are suffering the most. Tim Vine, Gary Delaney and the wonderful Milton Jones all write clever, witty one-liners that are easily lifted. Some of their jokes appear on forums where members have been invited to post ‘their’ best jokes, which, of course, aren’t 'theirs' at all. As a writer/promoter myself, I immediately post a comment crediting the joke back.
There’s nothing much anyone can do about joke stealing, except personally challenge the offender, which of course is what is happening to Keith Chegwin. He’s been canny though; tweeting to his adoring followers that all he wants to do is make people happy but he is being 'bullied'.
Accordingly his followers are now up in arms defending their ‘Cheggers’, and referring to his adversaries as ‘twats’. In truth these ‘twats’ are likely to be many of the comedians who provide much of the material Keith Chegwin’s followers enjoy reading in his tweets.
Chegwin’s followers are telling Chegwin to ‘block them’ – but in truth wouldn’t that be biting the hand that feeds them?
If Keith Chegwin wishes to avoid being ‘bullied’ perhaps he should study the Twitter etiquette that dictates you should re-tweet a hilarious comment, rather than cutting and pasting it and passing it off as your own.
Then his claims to want to “make people happy” might just carry a bit more weight.
©Jan Jack 2010
9 June 2010
Cutbacks at Social Services...a light hearted tale
I used to work at Social Services, circa the early eighties.
Even in those days there were cutbacks. No computers then, oh no. Most of us had manual typewriters.
There were two secretaries with electric machines; the rest would cast envious eyes, and the lucky recipients of such machines had been known to suffer a sly jab with a knitting needle during the lunchtime visit to the staff rest room.
I was delighted to take possession of the next available electric typewriter; no matter that the M no longer worked, cutbacks were cutbacks, and it was the best I was ever going to get.
One day I was in disgrace; a not unusual situation for me. I remember my supervisor, standing in front of my desk, determinted to make a point.
"If you have time to photocopy certain of your body parts I am sure you have time to type these meeting minutes for me. IMMEDIATELY.".
She turned on her heel; leaving me to start work. I began typing frantically in a bid to find my way back into favour.
Job done, I scurried to her desk and deposited my work with a puppy dog smile.
Within thirty seconds she was back, her large shadow looming over my desk. I remember that the tip of her nose was white with anger.
"I think you'll find that my name benefits from having the M in front of it."
I looked in dismay at the typing, full of uneven spaces, and looked sorrowfully up at her face, which was still bristling with indignation.
"I'm sorry Miss Manus. Truly I am."
Even in those days there were cutbacks. No computers then, oh no. Most of us had manual typewriters.
There were two secretaries with electric machines; the rest would cast envious eyes, and the lucky recipients of such machines had been known to suffer a sly jab with a knitting needle during the lunchtime visit to the staff rest room.
I was delighted to take possession of the next available electric typewriter; no matter that the M no longer worked, cutbacks were cutbacks, and it was the best I was ever going to get.
One day I was in disgrace; a not unusual situation for me. I remember my supervisor, standing in front of my desk, determinted to make a point.
"If you have time to photocopy certain of your body parts I am sure you have time to type these meeting minutes for me. IMMEDIATELY.".
She turned on her heel; leaving me to start work. I began typing frantically in a bid to find my way back into favour.
Job done, I scurried to her desk and deposited my work with a puppy dog smile.
Within thirty seconds she was back, her large shadow looming over my desk. I remember that the tip of her nose was white with anger.
"I think you'll find that my name benefits from having the M in front of it."
I looked in dismay at the typing, full of uneven spaces, and looked sorrowfully up at her face, which was still bristling with indignation.
"I'm sorry Miss Manus. Truly I am."
23 May 2010
Oh what a night....
I'm just emerging...bleary eyed from the last Laughter-House comedy show. And what a night.
Right from the start it was a fire-cracker of a night...with an audience of 80 who were well up for a laugh..they raised the roof when our Danny Dawes hit the stage....
Danny, as usual was on cracking form. How does he do it? No material and funny as heck. Bouncing off the audience, who think he's the mutt's nuts. And they're right.
So what did Thursday night throw up?
Well, we did spy one solitary lady sneakily opening a Sainsbury's carrier bag and pouring herself a Ribena on the sly..., leading the venue manager to turn a wonderful shade of Italian Tomato...
And then of course there was the Unintelligible Heckler.
Now, there are some unspoken rules about comedy nights...
1.If you are going to heckle, say something intelligent.
2. Don't arrive at a comedy club completely pickled - it makes rule number one a tad difficult to comply with.
And if you haven't managed to comply with Rules 1 & 2 above, there's another. Never ever sit at the front.
Nuff said.
Like I said. What a night!
So...we've got a break now 'cos of the footie, and then we're back on Thursday 15 July with Jim Tavare headlining, so if you want to join the buzzy, intimate atmosphere that is our Laughter-House club come along and see why it's such fun.
Tickets available online http://www.wegottickets.com/event/82635
Tickets available from the Red Lion Hotel in the next three weeks or so....
In the meantime why not follow us on Twitter at Laughterhse or check out our website at www.laughter-house.co.uk
see you soon
Jan
Right from the start it was a fire-cracker of a night...with an audience of 80 who were well up for a laugh..they raised the roof when our Danny Dawes hit the stage....
Danny, as usual was on cracking form. How does he do it? No material and funny as heck. Bouncing off the audience, who think he's the mutt's nuts. And they're right.
So what did Thursday night throw up?
Well, we did spy one solitary lady sneakily opening a Sainsbury's carrier bag and pouring herself a Ribena on the sly..., leading the venue manager to turn a wonderful shade of Italian Tomato...
And then of course there was the Unintelligible Heckler.
Now, there are some unspoken rules about comedy nights...
1.If you are going to heckle, say something intelligent.
2. Don't arrive at a comedy club completely pickled - it makes rule number one a tad difficult to comply with.
And if you haven't managed to comply with Rules 1 & 2 above, there's another. Never ever sit at the front.
Nuff said.
Like I said. What a night!
So...we've got a break now 'cos of the footie, and then we're back on Thursday 15 July with Jim Tavare headlining, so if you want to join the buzzy, intimate atmosphere that is our Laughter-House club come along and see why it's such fun.
Tickets available online http://www.wegottickets.com/event/82635
Tickets available from the Red Lion Hotel in the next three weeks or so....
In the meantime why not follow us on Twitter at Laughterhse or check out our website at www.laughter-house.co.uk
see you soon
Jan
19 May 2010
Another great act skids to a halt at my door...
I am sitting here with a Very Large Smile on my face...
Why? Cos Laughter-House have just secured a world class headliner for our July 15 show. How the heck have we done that?
Well...it's all because of "Come Dine with Me".
Last year, I applied to be on the Basingstoke Come Dine with Me show, my signature dish being Beans sur du Pain Toaste. I ended up as first reserve. Having had the film crew in my bedroom with their hands in my knickers (I'd like to stress they were on the clothes airer at the time) I was fascinated to watch the actual programme.
It was compelling and filled with larger than life personalities - except for a particularly miserable bint called Sophie who had an abundance of (her boyfriend's) money but rather less in the way of manners.
The competition was won by Spencer Uren, who donated his prize money to Basingstoke Hospital, as his sister had recently been diagnosed with cancer. It was a shock to discover that Spencer himself was subsequently diagnosed with the disease and sadly died shortly after the programme was filmed.
Three weeks ago I performed stand up at a charity gig to raise funds for the hospital...and on the bill was a lovely comedian called Dave Thompson.
Well, we talked a bit of nonsense, I helped him straighten his wig out backstage, and he did the same for me, and our friendship was born.
Dave's an extremely experienced comedian; he's performed with Harry Hill, Ben Elton et al, and appeared in numerous adverts...and can lay claim to once being Tinky Winky, before he was sacked by the BBC for inappropriate interpretation of the character. Grin.
He knows several Very Clever People, and what's more, he knows Jim Tavare.
That's right, Jim Tavare...the three-times Royal Variety Performance Jim Tavare, favourite of Prince Charles, veteran of The Jim Tavare Show on Channel 5....and loads of other stuff too numerous to mention here. But you name it, he has done it.
And he's done it all over the world. Usually with a bass..believe me you'll know him when you see him.
Result? Dave chatted to Jim, and the wonderful Jim is coming to Laughter-House Comedy Club in July. What a coup! And of course I've booked Dave to open the night. I can't wait..I know it's going to be a great night's comedy.
Which sort of brings to mind how I met May's headline act, Cole Parker.
We met a couple of years ago at a particularly dire gig in Exeter. I was performing as Nessie Flange, and was busy changing from my short skirt and high heeled boots into a long frumpy checked skirt, flat shoes and big jacket.
He looked over and said "You looked a lot sexier before you got changed"
I hope so Cole. I sodding well hope so.
Why? Cos Laughter-House have just secured a world class headliner for our July 15 show. How the heck have we done that?
Well...it's all because of "Come Dine with Me".
Last year, I applied to be on the Basingstoke Come Dine with Me show, my signature dish being Beans sur du Pain Toaste. I ended up as first reserve. Having had the film crew in my bedroom with their hands in my knickers (I'd like to stress they were on the clothes airer at the time) I was fascinated to watch the actual programme.
It was compelling and filled with larger than life personalities - except for a particularly miserable bint called Sophie who had an abundance of (her boyfriend's) money but rather less in the way of manners.
The competition was won by Spencer Uren, who donated his prize money to Basingstoke Hospital, as his sister had recently been diagnosed with cancer. It was a shock to discover that Spencer himself was subsequently diagnosed with the disease and sadly died shortly after the programme was filmed.
Three weeks ago I performed stand up at a charity gig to raise funds for the hospital...and on the bill was a lovely comedian called Dave Thompson.
Well, we talked a bit of nonsense, I helped him straighten his wig out backstage, and he did the same for me, and our friendship was born.
Dave's an extremely experienced comedian; he's performed with Harry Hill, Ben Elton et al, and appeared in numerous adverts...and can lay claim to once being Tinky Winky, before he was sacked by the BBC for inappropriate interpretation of the character. Grin.
He knows several Very Clever People, and what's more, he knows Jim Tavare.
That's right, Jim Tavare...the three-times Royal Variety Performance Jim Tavare, favourite of Prince Charles, veteran of The Jim Tavare Show on Channel 5....and loads of other stuff too numerous to mention here. But you name it, he has done it.
And he's done it all over the world. Usually with a bass..believe me you'll know him when you see him.
Result? Dave chatted to Jim, and the wonderful Jim is coming to Laughter-House Comedy Club in July. What a coup! And of course I've booked Dave to open the night. I can't wait..I know it's going to be a great night's comedy.
Which sort of brings to mind how I met May's headline act, Cole Parker.
We met a couple of years ago at a particularly dire gig in Exeter. I was performing as Nessie Flange, and was busy changing from my short skirt and high heeled boots into a long frumpy checked skirt, flat shoes and big jacket.
He looked over and said "You looked a lot sexier before you got changed"
I hope so Cole. I sodding well hope so.
8 May 2010
I once worked in a polling station..grin
It's been a funny week..with hot air everywhere you turn.
I for one am glad election night is over.
I trolled down to the polling station to vote on Thursday night; my card clutched in my mitts.
One of the local councillors was sweating and heaving anxiously by the entrance. Even if I WAS going to vote for him I would have changed my mind at that instant. He didn't look like he'd last a week without keeling over. So little point then.
Many years ago I worked in a polling station for a day, with a daft tart who took all the rules ridiculously seriously; removing a box of drawing pins from the table, as, being in a blue box, they were 'politically influential'.
The most extruciating moment of her reign happened when a lady with a white stick and guide dog came in, supported by a helper. The helper led the lady slowly and carefully to the table, to register, and was duly given her voting slip.
As they both headed towards the booth my colleague trilled "Wait! You can't go in there with her!"
The helper patiently turned around. "She's blind. I am here to help her."
"Well" Mrs OverZealous shuffled her papers importantly "I have to ask her some questions first. Come back here."
Relucantly, and with a meaningful look at a nearby voter, the helper led the lady, plus dog, plus white stick, back to the table.
"Right!" said Mrs OverZealous, peering at the voter. "Question 1. Are you blind?"
I took a look at the voter, in her dark glasses, my gaze travelling down to her stick,and her guide dog waiting patiently by her side, and turned to my companion.
"Are you?" I asked.
I for one am glad election night is over.
I trolled down to the polling station to vote on Thursday night; my card clutched in my mitts.
One of the local councillors was sweating and heaving anxiously by the entrance. Even if I WAS going to vote for him I would have changed my mind at that instant. He didn't look like he'd last a week without keeling over. So little point then.
Many years ago I worked in a polling station for a day, with a daft tart who took all the rules ridiculously seriously; removing a box of drawing pins from the table, as, being in a blue box, they were 'politically influential'.
The most extruciating moment of her reign happened when a lady with a white stick and guide dog came in, supported by a helper. The helper led the lady slowly and carefully to the table, to register, and was duly given her voting slip.
As they both headed towards the booth my colleague trilled "Wait! You can't go in there with her!"
The helper patiently turned around. "She's blind. I am here to help her."
"Well" Mrs OverZealous shuffled her papers importantly "I have to ask her some questions first. Come back here."
Relucantly, and with a meaningful look at a nearby voter, the helper led the lady, plus dog, plus white stick, back to the table.
"Right!" said Mrs OverZealous, peering at the voter. "Question 1. Are you blind?"
I took a look at the voter, in her dark glasses, my gaze travelling down to her stick,and her guide dog waiting patiently by her side, and turned to my companion.
"Are you?" I asked.
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