Mr John Smith

Dog update: Poppi has finished her period and is no longer wearing knickers (Poppi is my dog)

Public transport Update: Due to the work that’s taking place at North Shields metro, I’ve had to take the ferry as an alternative. I’ve enjoyed the mini cruise experience and it has been made more enjoyable recently what with the spring time weather. The ferry men are dead canny too, so there’s a nice bit of banter to start the day off.

This morning as I was about to board my cruise ship, I noticed that the passenger in front of me had a massively obvious brown poo stain up the butt crack of his grey jogging bottoms. My thoughts were:

1)     BLEURGH!

2)     Make a mental note of where he’s going to sit and never ever sit there

3)     Should I tell him?

I decided not to tell him because:

a)     I didn’t know him

b)     There was little he’d be able to do about it whilst on the ferry

c)      It was a bit funny him walking around with a poo stain.

So comedy. Last night was gig number 22 at north shore Sunderland uni’. Tony mars was the MC/organiser. The gig started out weirdly on account of lighting problems and sound problems and seating problems and unfunniness. So pretty much a walk in the park. Once they kind of sorted out the technical difficulties we were rolling. The audience were lit up (as in literally not as in they were delighted) which wasn’t great for putting them at ease or creating a good vibe. I performed a tidy 5mins that I’m hoping get the recording of for a competition, I had the attention of a group who were sat on the main floor, considering the set up, I was well received. I left in the interval to watch a movie about MAT DAMON. He’s got a bit of a weird nose like its flat on the end.

I told a lie and said I’d wrote a poem about John Smith, his mam asked where it was so I decided to actually write one.

Mr. John Smith.

The first time I ever met the man, he implied I was a slut,

From the heights of the stage in his mouth he placed his foot.

He’d noticed my shrill laugh, the banter then began,

Upon mention of car park rape though, I took my keys and ran.

Many a Friday eve’ was spent at his comedy club,

The idiot that grins found at your local pub.

‘Twas one of there fateful night’s I stepped up out the crowd,

This audience member, the one who’s laugh is loud.

I said a joke about a baker and mishaps with a scone,

John held my hand, stood by my side, my inhibitions gone.

From that moment forth I’ve been gannin like the clappers,

Writing silly jokes about fish and food and slappers.

The idiot gigs are really mint, deffo worth a gander,

Don’t sit up front though, for John your name will slander!

If you dare to eat nuts or crisps throughout any set,

Smith will have your life “WHO’S THAT MUNCHIN’ KET?”

Now John’s a bit of a bully, he has been all his life,

He likes to grief his marras and gives them plenty strife.

He loves to tease that funny Greek about his stinky breath,

His favourite though, his main past time is to slag off Dave Macbeth.