What songs make you cry?

What songs make you cry?

For me it's always Two Little Boys, the rousing refrain at the end where they sing:

"Did you say Jack you're all a-tremble
Perhaps it's the battles' noise.
Or it could be that I remember, when we were two little boys."

I am a bit of a wuss though. I cry watching Mrs Doubtfire, for god's sake.

Sarah's brother, Mark, cries whenever he hears Halfway Up The Stairs, by Kermits nephew Robin. I don't know why maybe he killed a frog as a child.

Jason Cook has just messaged me on Facebook - he's up early to talk about swearing on Toby Fosters's show on BBC Sheffield - for him it's Bridge Over Troubled Waters. Not sure which version. Probably NOT this one though:



Why... why would anyone film that?

And while we're on the subject of why would anyone film that... I'll leave you with this. Thanks again to JC for this. It really cheered up my day, for all the wrong reasons.

Play Doh Fun Factory

Ahhhh, Monday morning.

I'm sitting in the office at 7.30am, looking out across the lawn. The sun is rising behind St Paul's church and bringing an warming amber glow to a cold morning. A squirrel scurries along the thumb of the five-fingered Ash and a robin is wrestling with a crust on the bird table.

And slap bang in the middle of the garden, a freshly laid dog turd is curling steam into the crisp early air. It seems quite symbolic.

A theme is developing in my life at the moment and that theme is this: poo.

Baby poo to be more specific. It's bloody everywhere.

Poor little Maggie has just started on solids and... I'll spare you the details but last night she did one in the bath. This morning I awoke to find Sarah 'helping' her by rotating her legs while Maggie...

it was like a Play Doh Fun Factory, but without the fun.

Poor thing.

I sat and watched and thought - should I be filming this?

deadlines

Aaargh... how do they do it. How do deadlines manage to creep up like this. They're like buses. There's none for ages and now there's two at once.

Douglas Adams once said - I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.

But he was Douglas Adams so he could say that.

I'm just sat here contemplating tidying the office and putting all my DVDs in the order of birth date of the director.

No... must get on. After a quick update...

This weekend I was at Nottingham Jongleurs. Had two gorgeous gigs and on the Friday saw someone wee on a scally. Honestly. Not in the club it was the Waterfront Bar which is close to Jongleurs, you can see it when stood outside having a fag. Anyway there was a private party on the first floor and they have a big balcony when three hoody little muppets walk underneath and someone urinates on them.

Fair enough if you ask me. Off they go and get their mates and a battle ensued - which I missed - in which they took on 30 blokes apparently.

I also met two comics I haven't worked with before - Ian Coppinger, a thoroughly lovely Irishman who stayed and got drunk with me on the Frtiday, and Rob Collins who stayed but doesn't drink. He's a lovely man as well.

On Saturday I went for a Chinese Buffet sat the May Sum just around the corner from the hotel. I had:
1. hot and sour soup
2. 4x pancakes with shredded duck, hoi sin etc
3. 2x Satay skewers and 3x ribs
4. 2x Sui Mai 3x mini spring rolls
5. noodles and a selection of main courses.
and two bottles of sparkling mineral water... all for £9.40. Brilliant.

Rob and Ian went to the more chavvy £5 buffet next door called Big Wok where everyone sang Happy Birthday to a girl whose boyfriend had taken her there for a treat. Bless.

Errrr... that's it.

Filming a small part in Coronation Street on Wednesday -I have four lines - and tomorrow meeting a producer about making a short film.

I really should get on now.

swollen kangaroo

There's a little game I play, every time I find myself in a bad mood. Which is more and more these days. In fact I'm quite astounded at the sort of things which can set me off. I can't park in a supermarket anymore without fuming at the inconsiderate idiots I'm forced to share a car park with, there's very little TV I can watch without feeling I'm being treated like an idiot. Shows which are essentially dull as dishwater - David Dickinson's Real Deal and Jimmy's Farm spring to mind - try to use creative editing to build tension where there really isn't any and never will be.

And the pauses... why has every show on TV started ... using... dramatic................................................................. pauses.

I despise those big drawn out silences usually punctuated by some sort of heart-beat as if a were a life and death decision when all it really is, is usually the announcement of which luckless warbler is going on to annoy us for one less week than the others, or which lucky Johnny has been chosen to prove they're just like you and me by eating swollen kangaroo testicle live on TV.

I might start keeping a log of things which annoy me. It might help me understand it.

Anyway, here's a hint for you if you ever find yourself in a bad mood. What I do, when I'm in a bad mood is I find someone who is in a good mood... and annoy them.