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2010-11-07 09:08 am

I Slammed

The Tongue in Chic Midlands Poetry Competition at the Newhampton Arts Centre last night was brilliant - the most fun I've had in aaages. I partly wished my poetry-hating other half was there to share in its brilliance, but hey, maybe these things go better when everyone there is into the actual content.

It was a little bit of a Funny Women reunion, as Louise Stokes, Naomi Paul and Lorna Mehan were all taking part in the slam as well. There were some other familiar faces too - Emma Purshouse
and Heather Wastie, as well as Richard Frost from down old Milton Keynes and Fatima Al Matar - who I was very glad to have bumped into outside the centre as I would have struggled to find my way into the building too, but she fortunately had Mark Niel's number and he came out to wave us in.

The system turned out to be a scary Strictly-style one of the five judges holding numbers up after each performance, and then the highest and lowest scores out of those got knocked off and the middly points got added up. Personally, I'd rather not know... Sixteen poets in all got up to give us three minutes of their chosen poem...

I decided not to do my new one, as I've discovered I have no natural sense of rhythm, so that needs a LOT of practice. But I did my Slob poem and tried my best with it. It's a humorous one, and I think perhaps I should have done a more serious one, like Poppet as they seemed to be going more for powerful poems. I got a respectable score, but the high one of 9.3 was not counted, and I had two 7.5s (and I'm sorry Ian from the Anti-Poet if I gave you a bit of a glare - you meanie!;P), so I didn't get to the final... but then, all the poets who did get through are considerably better than me anyway, so all's pretty fair! The finalists were Fatima, Emma, Richard, Lorna and Theo, and Theo was the eventual winner, though Richard did do his very stonking poem about God, which I think is ace.

The interval and end entertainment was provided by The Anti-Poet, who last night were both wearing very Gothic flowery-textured military jackets with silver buttons, and Paul was also wearing his shiny trousers and some very nice Nurocks. I do love their style! They are also brilliant performers - last night being the best I have seen them. I was humming tights not stockings all the way home.

After all the poetry, I had a nice catch-up with people. I think I was probably slightly hyper, but I was feeling very positive. I had a chat to a couple of slam virgins about the nature of competition and our inner Violet Beauregardes. I have to say, Violet was quite quiet last night. She showed up after I'd been on, but she'd gone by the time of the interval - which was the space of one performance, so not long. I think she is beginning to learn that these things can be just as much about fluke as anything... and there's always next time. I did get a lot of compliments about my performance too, which was nice.

Thanks, Mark, for a brilliant night!

Tonight is a horse of a different colour as I have a 5-7 minute spot at the Midlands Comedy Competition. I'm wondering what Violet will be like tonight?
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2010-11-06 11:59 am
Entry tags:

Fifty Ways to Leave Your Labour

I thought I'd pen a new poem, seeing as I've got some poetry gigs coming up...

A girl left work yesterday without a goodbye - perhaps not totally unexpected, though a little strange. Anyway, I was inspired. Taking my leave from Simon and Garfunkel, I present to you, a poem:

Fifty Ways to Leave Your Labour

You have certain expectations when you get your first degree
But there are one stars in McDonalds who must get paid more than me.
I think that my line manager was born in '93.
There must be fifty ways to leave your labour.

I’ve got a dozen colleagues, but I don’t have any friends
I wrote a resignation poem I might just send, except
I might be dead already, or is this only a dead end?
There must be fifty ways to leave your labour.

You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don't need to be coy, Roy
Update your CV
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don’t need to discuss much
Just drop off your security key
And get yourself free.

They promised travel, thrills and status; I got RSI and spam.
The boss thinks he’s a genius, but of course he’s not – I am.
But frankly, Mr. Shankly, I just don’t give a damn
There must be fifty ways to leave your labour.

Who says you need to show commitment in order to succeed?
Death by a thousand paper-cuts is just no way to bleed.
So what if I’ve a shoe habit and three cats to feed?
There must be fifty ways to leave your labour.

Use the emergency slide, Clyde
Ice it all on a cake, Jake
Just pretend to be dead, Fred
Shouldn’t hurt your CV
Get your P45, Clive
Wrench yourself from the hive mind
Have an exit interview, Lou
Nick a load of stationery.

You wanted fifty ways to quit your job, and I’ve only just begun
But it’s my new work philosophy to leave a job half-done
At least I’ve had a few ideas, did Paul Simon think of one?
There must be fifty ways to leave your labour
There must be fifty ways to leave your labour

But I can’t be bothered.
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2009-10-31 10:50 pm
Entry tags:

Slam-dunk-da-funk

Just got back from the Halloween Slam, so I can stop feeling nervous now.

I had a wonderful first round and got into the semi-final. This is what I set out to achieve and had no hopes of getting further than that... actually, my mom reckons I managed to mentally sabotage my chances of getting in the final, as I messed up the poem in the second round, but still amazingly, managed to get a really good score - higher than my first round,in fact. Ah well, chalk it up. I need to do more of these things to increase in confidence and I'll do better another time, maybe.

It was lovely to see some people I know from Wolverhampton. I was disappointed that Jane wasn't there, but I should come back more often really.

Anyway, I had some good responses from people, and it was a most fun night, and the curry was lovely.

The slam was won by Brenda Read-Browne, who is quite simply, excellent.

I will put my editing head back on now. After a bit of a kip, that is.
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2009-10-30 01:55 pm
Entry tags:

Through the Cakehole

Right, yesterday was all about the boy. Today, I admit to one of my foibles. Okay. Just one of my foibles.


I Love Cakes

The papers say they're fattening
and not good for your health,
but I don't care and so I've grown
my very own cake shelf.

I just don't trust the Daily Mail
or even the Current Bun;
their ontological oncology
just isn't right for some.

So, I'm a little lardy-cake,
but no sponge, that's for schizzel.
I don't mean to fudge the issue,
but they're talking lemon drizzle.

Parsnip, carrot, jaffa cake;
buns with a cherry on top.
That's four towards your five a day-
don't tell me I should stop!

From Dundee to Madeira,
via Blackforest Gateau,
I think, perhaps, I can see how
my diet may have plateaued.

But I won't get in a flapjack
about my expanding belly.
I'll just have cake-hole surgery
like I've seen done on the telly.

Alas, my thin and youthful days
seem like a distant dream.
A mini-roll should cheer me up
'cause life is butter-cream.

Okay, so that's a bit speedy, but it's quick and fun and says I love cakes, so that works for me.

Huge thanks to all the people who sent me cake suggestions - I told you it was all useful stuff.

Now though, I think I'm going to have a banana, which is a bit healthier.
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2009-10-29 03:16 pm
Entry tags:

Slammish?

Okay, if I get through to round 2 on Saturday, this is the Vogonish piece I will be performing.

Feel my pain, people.

Slob

I've no wish to be complicit in your life of grime,
but I've got a busy schedule and I really don't have time
to sort out all your crap; I only wish I had.
I just thought I'd mention that it's making me look bad.
'Cause when I walk in through the door, it looks like you've been robbed.
Life is never easy when your boyfriend is a slob.

Is there dust on every surface? No - all surfaces are stacked
with papers, mugs and DVDS - the dust's on top of that.
Is there nowhere you can put these things? Dare I suggest a shelf?
- and the answer I am looking for is not 'do it yourself'.
You could clear out the cellar, but then that's a massive job.
Things are never easy when your boyfriend is a slob.

The kitchen sink is full of grease, the kettle needs descaling;
you've tried to do some washing up, but mostly you've been failing.
I thought I'd help with hoovering, but found it rather tricky;
do you have any explanation why your carpet is so sticky?
No, I don't think I'm nagging you, and really I'm no snob,
it's just that it's not easy when your boyfriend is a slob.

You say you'll cook me dinner and have candlelight for two,
but I'd find you more appealing if you had a nice, clean loo.
Besides, I've seen your dining room and don't think we'd be able
to have a game of footsy with that bike under the table.
I wouldn't eat a tin of soup you'd heated on that hob,
you're at risk of salmonella when your boyfriend is a slob.

You demonstrate such apathy that my words can't help but fail.
You've got more unopened post than the flippin' Royal Mail.
You've got more books and papers than the entire British Library.
I want to help you sort it out, but must I resort to bribery?
You want me to move in with you? That will only happen if
we roll up our sleeves together, and with elbow grease and Cif,
we'll scrub and scour everything, and with a little care
we'll have your whole house sparkling like a diamond solitaire.
But if you were to ask the question now... I think I'd sob;
It's not that I don't love you, but you really are a slob.


Brought to you by the Power of Hindsight, with additional funding from Elements of Truth.
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2009-10-27 08:28 pm

(no subject)

N is currently cooking me a lovely surprise tea and I am glad because I am knackered. I have had the first day of my writing sabbatical today and spent all morning in the office, due to a combination of guilt, dread and an utter inability to leave things alone.

I was knackered to begin with, due to a late night last night. I went to the Labour Club for Jake Moore’s Xylophone Club – I love going to see comedy, especially when someone else has had the stress of organising it. Headlining was Josie Long – who was brilliant as ever (and I realise I am slightly jealous as some of my company was commenting on how cute she is – plus her being a comedy genius, and all). Middle Act was Daniel Smith who I first gigged with in Oxford. He was good then and he’s better now. Opening act was David Trent who I had not seen before. I loved his twist on ‘spontaneous’ comedy and deft use of PowerPoint and video. What a fun night.

I was starving, so I bought some food there. Two meals for £2.50!!!! Thank you Gordon Brown, erm, for that.

Alan Moore was there too – but here is the sad news, for me at least. The edits for the first issue of Dodgem Logic have been done by someone else on this occasion. I’m a bit disappointed, but hey, the magazine is looking really cool and I am sure will run and run, so hopefully I’ll get on board another time. It has had input from Alex Musson, who runs the amazing Mustard magazine, Josie Long and will feature a CD of local music from the last 50 years, including m’friend Downtown Joe Brown (that’s the chap painting my portrait!). It’s launching November 26th here in Northampton, so you really need to visit us and get hold of your copy before anyone else so you can feel all exclusive and special. It will be available globally though, too, from December. One place you will be able to get it is Forbidden Planet – so check that out. It will be out every other month at £2.50 an issue.

In the meantime, I’m in a slam competition on Saturday. I submitted my 30-word intro for that today. I’m really looking forward to it, but I’m also incredibly nervous, particularly as I only have one piece (mostly) prepared so far. My aim is to act the hell out of it, and try to get through to round 2, but I’m up against some terribly good poets, so don’t hold out any hopes for further than that. Here’s a rival, Heather Wastie:

I’ll put a video of mine up when I get round to it, I think.

Ah well, this is what the holiday is for – that and the editing work which is picking up pace again. £10 – Bilston Imperial Palace, 8pm – includes free curry!! Tickets available from: Big Deal Music, 128 Salop Street, Wolverhampton. Tel: 01902 423567 or you can reserve tickets by emailing Emma Purshouse: emmaasif@hotmail.com

I practised my one slam poem at the Raising of the Arwen event last week, and to be honest, I’m not sure if that was much of a gauge of whether it was good enough. Could be that I didn’t know the poem too well and just read it. I don’t know. I’ve been getting paranoid a lot lately (just because you know you’re paranoid…) so my perspective is skewed. Heck… I liked my poem when I wrote it.

The night was really good though. I’d say most of the acts were really good (not sure about read-out poems in fake accents that go on for fifteen minutes apiece, but hey) and I was thrilled to get jelly sweets and a lovely pair of witch’s yellow and black striped popsocks from the Arweners. Might wear them out one of the days.

On Thursday, I’m going to see Stewart Lee – again, as a punter – leaving our Rugby night to Neil. So, I need to find someone else to go with, besides my bro, as I have a spare ticket (we booked months and months ago). It’s on the same night as Purple Monkey, run by m’friends in Northampton’s Fishmarket, and they’ve got Ed Achsel, so I have a feeling the comedy connoisseurs would and should go there, really. What to do?

Oh, oh and oh! I’ve got a gig coming up on 12th in Brum. And I’m supporting Sarah Millican!!! That’s at the Victoria Inn.

Oh, oh, and oh, and again, oh! We’ve just put together an amazing night in beautiful Earls Barton for November 20th – and how excited am I – Paul Foot is headlining! Check out my website for details http://www.badgerandboodleentertainment.com I put links to my gigs there too.
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2009-08-25 05:12 pm

My Birthday!

For a little while, I’d done as many stand-up gigs for the number of years I had been on the planet – no more. My age has inched forward by one unit!

For this splendiferous occasion I have gone in to work armed with cake . Later, I’m planning an Italian excursion –possibly to Bella Italia - followed by crashing a poetry-related barbecue to which I’ve been invited, if it’s still on after I’ve eaten all the tiramisu in existence. Failing that – pub!

Alarmed at this year’s sheer lack of birthday botheredness (must be maturity – eek! Nah!) I’ve declared myself to be 9, adding the two digits together. Trouble is, I can’t really summon up the required sense of nostalgia, as my 9th birthday has kind of slipped from memory. It may have involved a caravan holiday.

Lots of lovely birthday things – soy candles from my sister. Strange idea – lovely candles! Money – money is quite lovely- may buy myself a bike basket with that... and a bardic gift from my dearest, a large mother of pearl inlaid wooden box with letter paper, a fountain pen, Quink ink (now that reminds me of being 9!) and a moleskin notebook to record my bardic thoughts in through the year. Also, a promise on a postcard – I’m going to get my portrait painted! I hope I’m not too much of a fidget!

I left my phone at home today, so hopefully will go home and find exciting messages on it. Mmmmm...

Other exciting news, further to my pledge of writing more stuff and submitting it more places, I only got a story accepted for a vampire anthology out next year. I’ll say more about it when dust has settled.
The next writing project really has to be more stuff for the next slam I’m doing. I’m going back to Bilston for Halloween so need to come up with something aptly spooky. Oooooh! And there’ll be curry as well! OoooOOOoooooh!