I Am Sailing

So then, I arrived on (in) Phuket yesterday afternoon and was met at the airport by my old mate Pete Harris. I didn’t recognise him at first and he didn’t recognise me! It was brilliant to see him again and to meet his fabulous wife Boom, which has to be the coolest name ever!

Pete used to run a series of comedy nights under the banner Screaming Blue Murder and he is responsible for my doing my only ever Edinburgh Festival run. Back in 1999 I was part of The Big Value Comedy Show. It was there that Stephen K Amos and I bonded - he was the MC - and 11 years later we’re still great pals.

Anyway, Pete lives in (on) Phuket now, and was kind enough to come and pick me up. He drove me to my hotel for the night, the Thavorn Grand Hotel in Phuket Town. I can imagine when it was built it was the last word in luxury, sadly that must have been at least 30 years ago. It was clean and my room was massive and the staff were lovely so there ya go. Even Ricky Martin has stayed here, so La Vida Loca was definitely on the cards!

Not for me tho. I did go out for the most amazing seafood dinner on a pier with Pete, Boom and Boom’s mum. It was almost a disaster as the plastic chair I sat in slowly began to disappear down a hole in the pier! We moved along a bit and I avoided being thrown into the Andaman sea!

Today I risked it again as I took the ferry to Phi Phi Don. I figured it’d be a nice big, sturdy ferry, and the first boat was. Unfortunately the closer we got to the island the smaller the boats we were transferred onto! I was terrified! Mind you as I removed my trainers to walk up to my resort here, I was feeling pretty good about myself. Another fear faced and overcome.



So here I am writing this in my gorgeous beach hut,


I’ve sunbathed, swum and had dinner, this truly is paradise! And guess what, tomorrow I’m going on the longboat to Phi Phi town! I’m a regular queen of the sea!

Bangkok Baby!!!!!!

So much has happened since my last blog that I’m gonna work my way back from the present. It’ll make life easier I think.

I’m writing this from my “superior suite” at the hotel I’ve been staying at in Bangkok since my arrival on Monday afternoon. Once again I made most of hotels choices from the excellent site www.Sawadee.com and this first one,The Heritage, is ideal for someone only here for a couple of days. Its within walking distance of PatPong night market (and the multitude of girlie bars behind the dodgy handbags).

There’s a SkyTrain station right outside which is essential if you don’t wanna spend hours sitting in the phenomenal Bangkok rush hour which seems to be 24 hours long every day. The air conditioning on the trains is icy and brilliant and just what you need with this humidity.

The last time I came here I weighed in excess of 20 stones. It was four years ago and I was on the waiting list for my gastric bypass. I can still recall the horrors of the flight, my fat ass squeezed into an economy seat for 11 hours was torture. I was also an extremely committed smoker then so the nicotine withdrawal added to my misery. The flight was also like an outtake from Cocoon, peopled with about 300 silver haired men, an assortment of Thai brides taking their western husbands home, me and my fat ass, and Chico from X-Factor who was on one of those paid for holidays that C-listers organise so that photos can appear in a selection of glossy celeb mags.

This time, my seat felt positively spacious! Thanks to my 18 months of yoga I was bendy enough to be able to curl up in it and sleep for 6 of the 11 hours. The rest of the time was spent catching up on movies. I watched Precious and The Blind Side and wept at both without any shame. The rest of the occupants were the same as last time - at least they looked the same, I suspect it was a new cast of characters as the previous ones were long dead no doubt!

Within an hour of checking in I was back out on the street exploring the area on foot, and within 4 hours I was the proud owner of a new “Chanel” handbag and a fabulous gold “Rolex”. Gotta love the bling baby!

In the days leading up to my trip I was following the news reports of the Million Man March of Red Shirts who were descending on Bangkok for a big rally on Sunday. I wasn’t sure if I would be flying into a war zone or not! I have to say, I’ve been here a couple of days and have yet to see a single red shirt! Did see a lovely red Louis Vuitton handbag tho!

Yesterday morning I was up and out early after my healthy breakfast of fruit. It was 39 degrees celsius, and I felt every one of those degrees just walking across the road to the sky train! Two stops later I was at the river side and boarding the ferry. For a grand total of 3 baht I was taken across and hopped into my first ever Tuk Tuk! What an adventure that is! I didn’t get in one last time cos I felt I was too big. Ironically I’d have been way more comfy. My boney ass was aching with every pothole!

I went to Wat Arun. It was my first time here and I always felt I’d missed out by not coming last time. Turns out not really. Its one of those places that’s more stunning from a distance. The stupas are a testament to the patience of the builders, but it seemed that the shrines were an afterthought.



I hopped on another ferry right outside and that took me to my favourite temple in the world (of the ones I’ve seen so far) Wat Pho. The enormous reclining Buddha was as glorious as I remembered it, the mother of pearl mosaic on his feet still filled me with awe.



I wandered away from the tour groups and found a deserted little shrine. It was there I was able to say my goodbyes to my dear dear friend Jason Wood, and my Dad. I know now that they are both free from any suffering. I shed some tears and afterwards I felt a warmth in my belly and a general sense of calm. Its all good now.



When I booked this trip, both of them were very much alive and well - as far as we knew at least - and I was more concerned with getting away from the nasty British winter than anything else. The deaths of these two men in the last month have meant this trip is taking on a very different significance. Life and death makes sense here.

Life....

... is what happens when you're making other plans, so the quote goes. I've found out this past week that is so true!

Just over a week ago I caught a train to Preston to see my Dad and help him get ready for his heart op. A lifetime of good living had left his aorta a bit knackered and he'd been waiting a while for a procedure known as a TAVI which was gonna open it all up again so he could breath easily once more.

Dad and I have a good relationship these days, tho some might find it unusual the way we joke about "my inheritance". I've made jokes of the blackest kind about being "set free" and getting my hands on my parents' hard earned dosh. The reality is, of course, that we all will die one day - some sooner than others as the tragic deaths of Alexander McQueen and that 21 year old Georgian Luge athlete this week - but for my entire life my Dad has had countless scares, and over the weekend as I packed his bag for admittance on Monday, I joked about how he would outlive me once he got his 'new heart'.

On Monday lunchtime, the lovely volunteer from Patient Transport arrived to drive us to the hospital in Blackpool. I had my luggage too, as a non-driver I was gonna stay in a hotel in town so that I'd be close by.

He was nervous on Monday, but in good spirits, he'd been wanting this op for a while and was glad that his suffering was about to come to an end. I think he thought the surgery would not only fix his heart but turn the clock back by at least 20 years!

Here he is


The operation took place on Tuesday afternoon, and took longer than expected, with a few complications. The TAVI had slipped a bit, and his heart rate dropped pretty dramatically so they'd fitted a pacemaker quite early on in the proceedings. Still by 7pm on Tuesday night I was sitting at his bedside and making him smile as we talked about how the worst was over, and how well he looked considering what he'd been through.

Wednesday morning I went to see him again and he was looking great. He'd had breakfast and a cup of much longed for coffee, and was sitting up. The physio came and gave him a few simple breathing exercises to clear his left lung. He did them and she said it was pretty good. I was coming back to London so when they asked me to leave the room while they gave him a wash, I kissed him bye bye and told him I loved him.

I told him my phone would be on 24/7 and if he needed me for anything over the next few days, to call, even if it was only a chat in the middle of the night if he couldn't sleep. He thanked me for all I'd done for him and said he'd see me soon.

I came home feeling really positive, by the time I got to my flat, he'd been moved off the CITU ward and onto the Cardiac Care suite, my cousin went to see him Wednesday night and said he was cracking jokes and looking and sounding fab.

Thursday morning I was up to go get the stitches out of my nipple. I'd had scar revision surgery a week ago following my lumpectomy last year. That was all good, and on the way home I rang again to see how he was doing.

Not as well was the answer. There were problems with his kidneys and they were gonna move him back to CITU. My other cousin and his wife went to see him just after he'd been moved and said he was still cracking jokes and not in any pain.

By 9pm that night the surgeon rang me. They were debating whether or not to re-do the TAVI operation on Friday, and he would keep me informed.

Friday morning I was up early, planning to go to yoga for the first time in a couple of weeks, but before I went I called the hospital and was given not such great news. Dad's condition was deteriorating and there was still no decision about the op. I asked outright if I should come up and was told there was nothing urgent. However, by this point his kidneys had stopped functioning completely and his lungs weren't in great shape either. I made a decision to come to Blackpool anyway - times like this I wish I could drive! - as London is simply too far away for a short-notice dash.

I cancelled my gigs for the weekend, and a huge thanks to Darrell Martin and Dave Bourne for being so cool about that, and sorted out a couple of hotels. I rang the hospital back and their story had changed. They were now advising me to come up as soon as I could.

I did and was met outside CITU by the staff nurse taking care of my Dad. She explained the situation: basically he's under deep sedation and machines are now breathing for him, keeping his heart beating, and taking the piss - literally!

She warned me he wasn't looking too good, and boy was she right. I sat by the bed sobbing and begging him not to die and leave me alone whilst praying to his god and mine for mercy.

Its now Saturday morning and he's still "stable" whatever that means. At the moment he is too sick to re-do the op and even if they could, they have to fly a surgeon in from France or Italy, cos its never gone wrong like this here and nobody can do the work needed!

I'd say its down to fate or karma or god's will or even my Dad's will to live.

All I can do is wait and see...

Eyebrows!

So yesterday I went to the Urban Retreat at Harrods where the lovely Hazel, who I have to say is an artistic genius, tattooed on my face a pair of gorgeous eyebrows!

Its not the first time I've had this done, I got em done a couple of years ago, but I was platinum blonde back then and the person who did them seemed to have a problem listening to me when I explained what I wanted. As the pigment they use is semi-permanent, they fade over time, so I was thrilled to find Hazel. Even better she charged about half of the other woman's fee!

I was even more thrilled when after two hours' work yesterday I left Harrods with the most amazing pair of dark brown brows! Its all a bit sore right now, and they look incredibly fake, but by Friday all the swelling will be gone and the colour lifted a bit. I love 'em!

And This Is Me...

... at the Comedians' Christmas Party a couple of weeks ago. Incredibly vain of me to post it I know, but its not every day I get my photo taken with a handsome man. Cheers Mr Norcott!

Glee! Glee! Glee! I Am Just Full Of Glee!!!

As anyone who has even browsed my posts will know, The Glee Club in Birmingham is perhaps my favourite gig in the world ever, and I was lucky enough to be the MC there last weekend.

What a treat it was! The line-up included John Moloney, Ben Norris, Sarah Millican and fleeting appearances from Andrew Lawrence and Andi Osho. Now you'd expect at least one of us to have at least one ropey gig over the entire weekend, but we didn't. Not one of us, not once! It was sheer bliss both onstage and off from start to finish. On Saturday I even got to hook up with the other comics who were appearing at the Highlight in Birmingham for lunch - here's to Paul Sinha, Martin Mor and Marty McLean.

And onto another type of Glee Club, the one on the telly. Now as we all know, I am only a penis away from being a very camp gay man, so me loving this E4 show was pretty much a given. What I wasn't expecting was just how much I would love it! Its like a dose of sunshine on a bleak winter's Monday night, and show four - the "Single Ladies" episode - is my tv highlight of the year! I know its only January, but if anything is gonna top Kurt's kick on the football field, its gonna have to be pretty special!

Waiting...

... For Godot

Yep you heard me, last week I went to see that very same Samuel Beckett play at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket. A pretty stellar cast too - Sir Ian McKellen, Roger Rees, and errrr Matthew Kelly!

My pal Paul had organised the tickets and on the night we went, all the money was going to the Haiti earthquake fund, so a result all round I'd say.

Now as regular readers will know, I'm no expert on the theatre darling, but I really, really enjoyed this play! The two leading actors were funny, and fabulous. It was explained to me that its really a euphemism for life, and as a result it really resounded with my living in the now thing. Well worth a look.

Even Matthew Kelly isn't that annoying!

Hotel From Hell

So I am writing this on the train back to London. I've spent the weekend in Edinburgh working at the new Highlight Famous For Comedy Club. Phew! What a mouthful! The bill was great - me as MC, Kevin Hayes aka "the Man of a Thousand Voices", Gavin Webster who has a new bit that is just awesome but one that he'll never be able to do on telly sadly, and Brian Higgins who is on cracking form at the moment. The gigs were fantastic, each in their own distinct way, and Edinburgh is still one of the most gorgeous cities in the world, even if the weather was rubbish!

The only blackspot on the whole weekend was the hotel. We were booked into the Thistle St James and they had supposedly done a deal with the club to give us a discount rate. Well, that "discount" was £99 a night so as you can imagine I was expecting something pretty exceptional for my money. After all, it was a wet weekend in January and the hotel was nowhere near full capacity.

This was the second room they gave me, the first believe it or not wasnt as good as this!





These were all the lovely yummy goodies they provided



This was the luxurious shower




Now I know you might find it hard to believe, but I am seriously not a diva. However, I posted those photos on Twitter and soon had some of my followers offering to form an escape committee to come and spring me. One follower actually did a websearch and found me a different hotel! All of them were horrified that any hotel could charge that amount of money for such a dreadful room.

Anyway, I stuck it out and am finally homebound on this train

Blimey! There's a Banksy Movie on the Way

Check it out!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTlm6dU2xHk

The Ligger Years... Part 4 ... More Clash

So a couple of weeks after the Manchester Apollo gig, The Clash were playing at King George's Hall in Blackburn. A group of Preston punks (actually all the punks in Preston!) had organised a mini-bus to take us there and back, but Peggy and I went earlier than the others.

I'd written up the interview and done a copy for Joe Strummer to read - copy approval even before there was such a thing! - he hadn't asked for us to do that, it was basically just an excuse to get on the guest list again!

As if getting to see The Clash again wasn't exciting enough, there was an extra-special treat awaiting me in Blackburn - now there's a sentence you never thought you'd see! There was an extra guitarist playing with them that night and I literally bumped into him backstage. It was none other than Steve Jones from The Sex Pistols!

He was the reason I'd become a punk in the first place. I can still remember seeing his photo in the NME in what was probably the first ever feature on the band, and thinking 'if that's what punk men look like, I'm gonna be a punk!' Shallow I know, but there ya go, and bear in mind that the time I was "into" 10cc!

I can still remember how my legs turned to jelly when I saw him close up. He was so handsome in those days and smelled amazing! He was wearing a Vivienne Westwood Seditionaries T-shirt that was an open letter to Derek Jarman slagging off the movie Jubilee and a pair of black jeans. Goddam he was hot!

Luckily for me, my pal Peggy aka Anne R Key, was on the ball and told him who we were. I was mute with virginal teenage desire! Eventually I recovered enough to tell him about the fanzine and ask for an interview. He said he'd happily do one after the gig. Peggy then said 'she's your number one fan, why don't you give her a kiss?' Jesus! I am cringing now just thinking of it! But, it worked, he kissed me on both cheeks and said he'd see me after the show.

That gig was one of the best times I ever saw them play, they were on cracking form and Steve Jones' guitar added an extra kick to the tunes.

After the show, we went backstage, and met one of the many seminal characters of punk rock - a former Sex Pistols roadie called Steve English. He asked Steve Jones if he planned to fuck me (I know!) and Steve Jones said 'No, she's a good girl', before disappearing off to shag two sluts in the orchestra pit!

It has to be said that while I was flattered that he didn't see me as 'just another groupie', as a 17 year old virgin, had he asked I probably woulda fucked him! What a slut! We hung out with The Clash for a bit - wooohooo another can of Coke! - and then Steve Jones reappeared minus the girls. He handed me a sweaty bit of black cloth and a piece of paper, saying we'd do the interview another time.

The cloth was the Seditionaries t-shirt and the bit of paper was the address and phone number of Glitterbest in Denmark St - Malcolm McLaren's office!