Our Nikki Was Marvellous in Mountain Language

Last night I went to t' theatre fot see my niece, our Nikki, in a play.

Generally speaking, I don't like plays much. I prefer a good game of rugby league if I'm honest. But our Nikki is a smashing lass so I thought I'd see her in action, like.

Anyway the play was one of these modern arty things. A lot of strange people jumping up and down and shouting and swearing. Not that different from being in t' crowd watching Wigan Warriors on a Sunday afternoon.

It was called Mountain Language, which is what they must have been speaking cos I didn't understand a bloody word of it. It was by a bloke called Harold Pinter - I wouldn't mind a "pinter" whatever he was drinking when he wrote it! Ha Ha! (must remember that one)

Our Nikki was very good though. I was proper proud of her. She played an old woman and she was right convincing.

As far as I could make out, this old woman got bit by a dog but she didn't know t' name o' t' dog. So she went visiting her son in prison. But then he had some kind of fit. And there was another feller in a boiler suit with a scarf o'er his face - put me in mind o' t' gimp in Pulp Fiction.

There was a good deal of effing and jeffing. A woman in a head scarf started screaming blue murder at this bloke with a beard. She used some very unlady-like language (maybe it was mountain language, I don't know).

Anyway, I hung around and congratulated our Nikki on her performance. Then I went to t' Catholic Club for a stiff drink.

Hopefully, t' next time I have fot go to a theatre they'll be doing an autopsy on me.

Valerie and Muriel

I just thought I'd better clear summat up.

I've had a few queries asking why I mention my wife, Valerie, in an interview I gave last year, but this year, the wife's name seems to have changed to Muriel.

It's very simple. In the interview I was telling a story from years back about my ex-missus, Valerie. People who have seen me on stage recently will know that Valerie and I got divorced. She buggered off following my spiritual awakening.

I think what finally did it was when I cancelled the cruise to Jamaica and booked us onto a 3-day festival of pagan ritual.

It was a very acrimonious divorce. We had a divorce hearing and everything. The courtroom was like a game show. Valerie won the star prize - a house and a car. I won the luggage.

My current wife, Muriel is much more spiritual that Valerie. She also shares my love of swing music. In fact, we are are probably two of the best-known swingers in the North West.

Hope that clears it up.

Britain Is An Assylum

I went to t'pictures t'other night. I saw this film called Homegrown. Very good, it was too.

It covered two of my favourite subjects - allotments and assylum seekers.

Assylum seekers are foreigners who come over here because they are having a rough old time of it at home. In the film, the council try and get em int swing o things by giving em an allotment to look after.

Champion idea! Personally, I know of no better place to flee an oppressive regime (e.g. our Muriel).

Some people are very unfriendly towards assylum seekers as if they are some kind of nuisance. But these people who complain would feel different if shoe was on t'other foot - when we are all under 100 feet of water, they will be the first people buying ferry tickets to th'Isle o Man.

My next door neighbour, Vlad, is an assylum seeker. He was driven from his home in Eastern Europe by religious zealots who wanted fot kill him. Christians broke into his house in broad daylight and tried to drive a stake through his heart. So he fled his family home in the mountains of Transylvania and moved to Wigan. Now he's got a nice factory job at the Heinz plant in Kitt Green.

I think he is doing ok now but he still looks very pale. I asked him if he wanted to come and help me with my allotment some time. But he said it wasn't convenient cos he works nights and tends fot sleep int daytime.

Anyway I am growing him summat on me allotment by way of a welcome gift. These Europeans like garlic, don't they?

I Hate Racism Me

I saw this newstand t'other day that said

"RACIST WORLD CUP THUGS ARRESTED"

Now I think's it's great that they've arrested the thugs. But was it really a good idea to have a "Racist World Cup" in the first place?

I mean it was bound to attract thugs, wuzn't it?

Racism is a very serious issue. Let's not make a competitive sport out of it!

It would give the British National Party a chance of winning something, and that can't be good.

Think on.

Back to Earth

Last night I played Earth Cafe in Manchester. Private function, like. None of your riff-raff. It was a leaving do for a lovely woman called Jutika.

It started with a hitch. The audience cheered so much when I came on that I couldn't hear the backing track and I missed my cue for the opening number. I told the audience to shut up and started the number again. Sometimes you have to put people in their place or they'll get too boystrous.

I told them some stories about my life as a club singer and my ongoing spiritual journey. I even read them a bit from my new book Meat and Potato Pie For The Soul. For some reason, they seemed to treat the whole thing as one big joke.

It's tough being a spiritual guru. You pour your heart and soul out to these people and they just laugh at you. I suppose that's just how it is for great visionaries and prophets and the like.

Anyway they all enjoyed theirselves and that's the main thing. And nobody hurled missiles - which is always a bonus.

Watch this space. I'll be putting some photos and video up next week.

Tribute to Manjunaga

This is a recording of a song I did for my friend Manjunaga earlier this year.

Manjunaga is a funny name because he is one of them Buddhists. But he's a lovely bloke.

If you don't know Manjunaga you are definitely missing out. And also you probably won't get any of the jokes in the song. So you are missing out twice.

Sorry.

Anyway, if you want to hear the song, here it is...

Your Way - A Tribute To Manjunaga

(to download, right click the link and choose Save Target As).

Interview from 2006

Here is a recording of an interview I gave last year.

There is a little bit of ripe language in it so be careful in front of the kiddies.

right click here and then choose Save Target As to download.

On The Fiddle

Our Muriel - my good lady wife - is learning to play the fiddle.

It's driving me round the bloody bend. She sounds like somebody draggin' a fridge down t' street. It's horrible, it is.

I've tried to be kind about it. After all, I don't want to hurt her feelings. I said to her, "Muriel, darling, please will you shut up with that terrible bloody racket."

She said, "But I need to practice."

I said, " You're telling me!"

I said, "You sound like a giant cat on heat. There's a dozen ginger toms queuing up in the yard to pee on the back door."

Do you know anybody who could give her violin lessons? At their house, though - not at mine. She sounds like a cinder trapped under a door. Eeeeeaaaaawwwwww!

Horrible.

er..hello

Hello.

I've got myself one o them blog thingees.

What now?

Anybody out there?

I suppose I could tell you what I'm up to today.

Well today I've been working on some new material for a gig next week. The gig is for a bunch of Buddhists. No doubt they'll be a friendly lot. But the downside is that they'll be stone cold sober.

And that's it really.

There will be more interesting stuff coming later. Honest.

I'm going to post some photos from a recent gig and you'll be able to download some of me songs.

There'll probably be a video appearing soon.

And also I'll be giving you some previews from my new self-help book, Meat and Potato Pie For The Soul.

But right now I've got fo't' go and pick our Muriel up. (That's my missus.)

See you later.