Happy New Year (and two cheeky plugs)

A combination of Christmas and flu (in that order) has kept me from the blog for a couple of weeks now, and I’m sorry…. but it is… too late. Too late to catch not one but two sketch shows with some of my stuff in them.

Live from Kirrin Island you have heard all about (rather too much some might say). But there is also Tumbleweed comedy,  the brainchild of Kirrin Island performers Alex and Rachel Perkins, broadcast on FunKids Radio, where Alex has a regular slot on weekday afternoons.

Tumbleweed comedy is kids sketch comedy broken up with songs (confusingly NOT a comedy night in East London, at least not any more). The first broadcast was on Boxing Day and, if all goes well, it will be back for episode 2 in the new year. We’ve also been promised a podcast. Don’t worry I’ll post up a link when I get one. 🙂

So… It’s New Years Eve and I’m typing up this post in my dressing gown watching Lewis (Series 6 episode 1 if you must know) hoping that the distant fireworks don’t a) wake child #1 or b) stop child #2 from going to sleep (not that she shows any sign of it – currently trying to swallow a whole squeaky crab).

I’d like to tell you that this is an comic (or even tragic) contrast with New Years’ Eves past. That in my unshackled youth NYE was a time of inventive debauchery,  of reckless adventurism, sampling the delights of the finest nightspots around the globe (like a chunkier and less sexually confident James Bond). But some of you know me.

The closest I got to that was getting really drunk on cheap lager, in an even cheaper student house with plants growing in under the walls, and embarrassing myself in front of my girlfriend’s mates. That girlfriend is now, miraculously, my wife.

(A short aside – although me and the wife don’t get to go out as much as we used to it doesn’t mean we don’t have fun. Scientists has shown that getting less than six hours sleep  night reduces your cognitive ability just as much as being drunk does. So, in a way, I’ve spent the last few years pissed…)

And many years on from those dodgy lagers and miscellaneous kebabs, the most exciting news I’ve had all day is that #2 has given up on chewing toys and (from the lack of screaming upstairs) may even be asleep. #1 has not coughed himself awake in a while and my long-suffering lady wife will be nursing the bruises and aches of motherhood in bed. And what does this all mean? Well I can finish my new years message before midnight.

Take that Jool’s Hootenanny! This one was recorded on the night.

Um, admittedly with less celebrity input, and less musically and with no orchestra or party atmosphere (unless you count the sexy way I’ve draped my towelling robe over my thighs… no? Thought not.) Yes, all those things. Fine. But I still win.

Why? Because it’s my delusional avoidance of reality and so I make the rules. Let that be the motto for 2013. (George Osborne’s been saying this very thing for years…)

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