Monday 29 July 2013

Scouting For Girls musings

   It has been recently bought to my attention (thanks to Emma Rand on Twitter) that Scouting For Girls are about to release a 'Greatest Hits' compilation. Aside from playing it very fast and very loose with the word 'greatest', surely a band has to have more than about 3 hit singles before they can release such a compilation? Literally, I can name three of their songs off the top of my head, and all of them sound exactly alike. I'd go as far as to say that as soon as most people play this CD, they will think its broken because every song will sound the fucking same.

"Its not about yoooooou, its me"
"She's so lovely, she's so lover-ly"
"This ain't a love song, this is goodbye"

All interchangeable songs, from a band so bland and happy-go-lucky they make Keane sound like Slayer, plus they've only been around for 5 years. This would be like if there was a box set of Jaden Smith films, or if the Royal Baby wrote an autobiography.

Apparently its being advertised as "the soundtrack to the summer". Why do seasons need soundtracks? Vivaldi pretty much covered all the bases, nobody else needs to bother. Plus, you never hear "the anthems for your autumn", or the "compilation for this cold snap" - no, its only in the summer we need to have a musical accompaniment at all times. Well, Christmas too I suppose.

Anyway, I don't know enough about Scouting For Girls to keep ranting about them. All I know is they'd go up 36 times in my estimation if they were called Hunting For Bitches.

I guess I got, I guess I got, I guess I got nuthin' to saaaaaa-aaaaaayyyy.
Joe Ward
@wardylovesit

Joe's Monday Night RAW (Random Ass Wrestler) #2

Today's random wrestler is Max Moon.


Look at this fool. He was supposed to be from outer space or something. He even had a jet pack. He was shit.

Friday 26 July 2013

I Am King Haiku, Vol 2

This is for Jim Lang.

French Republic done
All thanks to Yann Kermorgant
Now he claims he's king

Thursday 25 July 2013

I Am King Haiku, Volume 1

Hello.

                    I've decided I am going to start writing haikus. If anybody has a subject they want me to write one about, please let me know. One day I hope to have a giant anthology full of them,which people can peruse at their leisure and glean a lifetime of enjoyment from. I'm gonna get the ball rolling with a tribute haiku about late Countdown host Richard Whiteley.


Twice nightly, old Rich
Made them jokes for old people
Now Earth is laugh free.


There we go. As I say, if there are any other topics you want me to haiku about, I will be more than happy to do so. It can be literally anything.

Joe Ward
@wardylovesit

Friday 19 July 2013

Last Minute Gig Musings

            So yesterday I got an e-mail at about 4pm from the Up The Creek comedy club in Greenwich, asking if I was available to fill in for somebody who had pulled out earlier in the day. Holy shitballs. First of all, very famous comedians have played that place, and secondly, I had hardly any time to prepare as well as shave and wash myself, because appearance is important in society. News to me.

             I scrambled about for a bit there, asking as many people as possible if they didn't mind abandoning all their plans for the evening and coming to see me talk for 5 minutes. I also worried about what to wear, bearing in mind it is ungodly hot at the moment. I did flirt briefly with the idea of wearing flip-flops, but thought better of it, as they would probably have made an annoying squelching sound as I walked on the stage. In the end I wore a T-shirt and shorts, nothing too outlandish. I also thought about possibly debuting some new material I've been working on, because I have another gig lined up for 2 weeks time, but instead decided to do the same routine from the first, only tweaked slightly. This once again entitled me writing two seperate poems onto two seperate pieces of lined A4 paper, something I should probably do something about. As comedy props go, they are weak at best. I'm certainly no Carrot Top.

             Took the train to the venue, had a couple of pre-game ciders which I ended up drinking very quickly, due to a combination of being ridiculously parched, somewhat nervous and a borderline alcoholic. My good friends, who I will name here: Tim Burchell, Benjamin Burchell, Chazz Pulbrook and Andy Eggleden, came to meet me because they are really really great friends losers. Just kidding guys, I love you all. Plus my sister and dad came down, they sat right in front of the stage so I tried to avoid eye contact with them while on stage, because I would've been embarrassed that I was saying the f-word in front of them both, seeing as I was still relatively sober. Anyone who couldn't turn up at very short notice due to having other plans or being at work, I'll forgive you eventually. Its gonna take some time though.

              Gig came and went. People laughed and even clapped at one point, which gave me a brief ego boost until I nearly slipped while leaning on the mic stand. Luckily for me I went on third out of the 12 acts that performed, so at least I got it out of the way early enough. I was a little rattled when I first arrived, because they told me if I went over 5 minutes the lights would flash and I'd need to wrap up quick, or possibly be lynched. They never actually said that last part, that's just my assumption. Also the compere looked like he'd kicked a few heads in back in the 70s, which didn't help.

             The gig was split into two halves, 6 comics on each. Pretty much everyone else was really fucking good, with really well crafted routines and some excellent one-liners, it was actually really inspiring to me. I could never have anticipated I would get the chance to perform at somewhere as established as Up The Creek on only my second gig, and am thoroughly grateful for the chance to have done so. Hopefully I'll play there a lot more in the future, that would be lovely. Hopefully some sort of plague wipes out other comedians that have already booked slots there so the opportunity will arise again. That would also be lovely.

Vaya con dios, you mothers.

Joe
@wardylovesit

Wednesday 17 July 2013

Apprentice Finale Thoughts

                      So, another season of the Apprentice is over. Lord Alan Sugar has taken another poor Padawan under his wing, and no doubt their working relationship will be over within a year, because the BBC commissioned another season. Then Sugar will deny all knowledge of ever having gone into business with the previous year's winner, claiming they are all a figment of our imaginations, and that really he was just sitting in a boardroom talking to himself for 12 weeks because he finds it comforting. Soon enough we'll just see him in a rocking chair, drinking Dandelion & Burdock wearing Dexy's Midnight Runner-esque dungarees, screaming at the wall opposite him that they don't respond well to criticism and that their business model is a bloody shambles.

                      I never watch the Apprentice normally. The papers made a big furore over this season claiming that they only roped in this batch of candidates because they were all young and good looking. Now I admit I'm not a particularly attractive man, but then again my genetics dictated that I would be burdened with a massive cranium and fuck all hairline from a very tender age. Nobody would ever look at me and think "that is one hot piece", and if they did I would question their sanity, but not to their face because I might be onto a winner. Anyway, having now seen this crop of "young, attractive" people, I have to somewhat disagree with the tabloid press on this matter.

                     Leah, the young lady who won the series (its not a spolier, its already aired), basically looks like a dead-eyed puppet. Very intelligent woman, will no doubt succeed in the business world and good on her, but she looks like Kermit and Barbie's lab-created offspring. Whereas Luisa, the runner-up (its not a spoiler, its already aired) is fundamentally pretty, but has a constant look of bewilderment on her face, like she's about to get hit by a slow moving vehicle but isn't sure what action to take. Then there's the Welsh bloke who's name I forget, who had inexplicable eyebrows which seemed to take up three quarters of his face. Another girl with a name I can't spell looked a bit like a spray tanned Pumbaa, and the nervous posh guy looked like he'd recently been imprisoned for rampant buggery. Again, I am hardly one to be judging people based on looks, seeing as I look like Iain Dowie crossed with a ginger martian, but when I'm promised attractive and it doesn't deliver, it gets my goat.

                     Then there's Karen Brady and Nick Hewer, who are kind of like the Be-Bop and Rocksteady to Sugar's Shredder. That's my comparison, I'm sticking to it. Anyway their main purpose on the show appears to be solely to react disapprovingly to anything anybody says at any time, always straight to the camera, and then at the end they offer one line of feedback each, usually something obvious like "It didn't go so well for you today, you failed to sell any carpet cleaner and you murdered a family of 5". Hewer is especially good at the "fart in a car" look, its patently obvious that to him all these people are the scum of the earth and if he had it his way he would have them all killed. Brady's hatred is not so blatant, but you can tell she is trying not to come across as being too nice.

                     Anyway, the final wasn't as compelling as I'd hoped. Leah's business was something to do with cosmetic surgery, which seems apt, and Luisa's involved selling cakes. I'd have preferred something a bit more niche, like doorknobs or orthopedic shoes, but there we go. They both had to come up with a corporate video, and then do a presentation to a bunch of 'industry experts', none of who are named but all of whom are also good at conveying underwhelment...which isn't a word but fuck it. Both of them did a decent job, as they got to boss around all the losers who were fired by Sugar. They must have felt like right bell-ends, kowtowing to someone who had shown better business nous than them. The sense of resentment must've been palpable, but of course they had to be professional and listen to Leah barking orders at them, like "Shut up now, just film me talking". Of course Brady and Hewer disapproved of everything.

                    They both made speeches and came across well, although Leah's was preceded by a ribbon dance, performed by another girl who had been fired earlier in the season, presumably just for Leah's sick amusement. The 'experts' gave their criticisms, but it seemed like they felt forced to be mostly positive about them - one woman looked like she was about to vomit vitriol all over the place, but held back because vomiting on TV in front of millions would make her look stupid.

                   Before I go on, is Sugar's receptionist hideously ugly or something? Why not just show her? It comes across like the desk is manned by one robotic arm that occasionally picks up the phone whenever Sugar wants people to come into the boardroom. Do they receive any other calls, about mis-sold PPI or young kids asking for "Mike Hunt"? Anyway, they all went into the boardroom, Sugar rambled for ages but this time resisted the urge to many any puns, like "What you just said was utter Botox" or something. I know, that was very good, thanks. He gave them backhanded compliments like "You were an unreasonable bastard when you first came here, and now you're just a bastard", and eventually he said Leah was the winner because she actually had a specific goal, or he was scared she would sing "Rainbow Connection". Either way, she got in a taxi looking all smug, and for all I know she was never seen again.

                  I can't wait for Sugar to go full on senile. He's 66, its bound to happen soon. Until then, there's always Bruce Forsyth. Bye!

             

Monday 8 July 2013

Random Musings #1

                               Hello, my name is Joe Ward and this is a blog I have started because all the cool kids are blogging nowadays. I have no specific subject that I want to blog about, but sometimes thoughts just occur to me and now instead of blurting them out to confused and often horrified strangers on the street, I can use this as a medium to do so, plus I don't have to leave my home which is always a bonus.

                               I guess one purpose of this blog is to try to raise awareness of my new foray into stand up comedy. For several years people have told me "You're quite funny, you should do stand up comedy", to which I just sort of chuckled bashfully and then carried on drinking irresponsibly. The main reason I put off doing it for so long is that I never really knew what I would do for a routine, plus my only experiences of performing in front of people include portraying that kid who gets shot with a cream pie gun at the start of "Bugsy Malone" for our Year 6 play, and also playing the drums really badly to a room of about 20 people, most of whom were so appalled by the noise that they had to either leave or try to stick needles through their ears. We did do a mean cover of "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne though. What's happened to her anyway, is she still afraid that the shame of marrying the singer of Nickelback would negatively affect her career forevermore? The fact he probably serenades her on a nightly basis with a rendition of "hey hey I wanna be a rock star" is probably enough to ensure that Avril has questioned not only her sanity, but also how she has chosen to live her life in general.

                                Anyway, I digress. I think essentially I was too nervous to even attempt it, because its one thing to be funny in conversation with people you know, its quite other to be funny in front of a room full of people, most of whom you wouldn't know, who are expecting to be sufficiently amused. Eventually though, after about the 86th conversation with a friend in which I expressed a desire to try it but didn't have the balls, I finally decided enough was enough, and that I would finally give it a go, with or without my balls. I wrote on Facebook that I would do it before the end of 2013, and enough people 'liked' it (because its important to me that I be liked) to convince me it would be a worthwhile endeavour.

                              The gig came about sooner than I expected - after e-mailing a few venues about doing an open mic slot, I was offered the opportunity to do one just under a fortnight away. My approach to writing jokes and general material was somewhat slack, basically I bought a cheap notepad and jotted down bullet points, in the hope that I could blag the rest of it. I did a lot of reading about the open mic circuit; mainly articles by people with a vast amount of experience in it, so as to ensure I didn't go in with unrealistic expectations, such as hoping I would get floods of offers and insane amounts of money thrown at me off the back of one gig. Not that I ever really did expect such a thing to happen, but having ludicrous dreams frequently occupies my otherwise mundane days. One time I dreamt that I was floating around space in a giant apple, think Roald Dahl meets Gene Roddenberry only they are both drunk and have written the most nonsensical story ever together.

                               So anyway the gig came and went. It was supposed to be a 5 minute slot but even though it flew by for me, it seems I went a little bit over. The problem was that the room, which was the size of the average airing cupboard, was so ungodly sweltering that even if people were becoming restless, I wouldn't have known because sweat was dripping into my eyes. So I persevered with overly salty retinas, and crammed as much stuff in as I could. Thankfully I had a fair few friends and family that came to see me, the poor sods, that I never felt particularly nervous about doing the gig, my only worry was that I'd trip over the microphone wire or go blind there and then, but neither happened which is always a bonus. The venue was the Shaker & Co cocktail bar near Warren Street, and its a place I'll always remember as being the venue for my first glorious triumph. When you get feedback such as "You were surprisingly articulate" and "I thought you'd be shit but it was actually alright", then I feel glorious is the appropriate word. Bolstered by such high praise, I knew I should carry on doing it.

                               My second gig will be on the 31st July at Rudy 's Revenge bar in High Holborn, and I am actually looking forward to it. I just hope I get the chance to perform frequently enough that I can really shape my material into a solid 5-10 minutes, so I can avoid improvisation as much as possible, unless something I think is funny pops into my brain. This will probably happen more often than I or anyone else would like. Anyway, I've text rambled for long enough. I'll be more concise next time.

Thanks, bye bye.