Stewart Lee...

Stewart Lee, better-known as the husband of 2013 Fosters Comedy Award-winner Bridget Christie, remains one of the best stand-up comedians I’ve ever seen.

His latest show, Much A-Stew About Nothing, is currently touring the UK before taking up residency at the Leicester Square Theatre in London from November 2013 to January 2014, prior to filming a new series of the BAFTA-winning Stewart Lee’s Comedy Vehicle for the BBC.

The new stand-up show is Lee doing three half-hour sets for what will eventually be material for episodes of the new TV series, then throwing in an extra ten minutes of new and untried material as an encore.

The three sets are full of the usual Lee tropes, such as exasperation at the audience not getting some of the gags, then explaining why the gags are funny and how they set up something that will appear later in the show. There’s also the usual mock frustration with the modern world, and his despair and failure to understand much of its fascination with celebrity culture and its political torpor. Routines about his role as a father and a husband also put in an appearance.

It’s familiar Lee territory and it’s brilliantly done, and his stand-up stage craft as a performer and the quality of the material he presents make Lee worth a dozen other comedians currently clogging up the TV schedules like fat tissue in an artery.

Lee makes you laugh and makes you think. Go see him... before some arts critic from The Daily Mail can take no more of him and goes postal at one of his gigs. He’s brilliant.

Sticking Point: Part II...

My tahn bong (short staff) training continues at hapkido.

I was hoping to be a natural at this because it heavily relies on hand and eye coordination, and that is a skill set I'm comfortable with. But, sadly, I was hoping to be a natural at many things in life and they never materialised. I also realised a long time ago that the concept of being 'a natural' at anything is utter rubbish, and dedication, hard work, commitment and perseverance are the only things that really matter.

Consequently, I'm spending a lot of time working on basic strikes at the moment and hoping it will all come good. I will yet be Daredevil with his trusty billy club.

Public House: Part I...

My new theatre company is slowly taking shape. I have two large-scale projects in the early stages of development, two potential writers, some serious academic back-up, several possible venues, some initial funding contacts established and a fledgling website.

My next tasks are to register it as a limited company at Companies House, then set up a bank account and, by December, I should be good to go for its launch show next year.

It's going to be tough and probably not without a considerable amount of stress. But I think I've found a way to fund it and make it sustainable.

I used to do this without worrying about it. It was just something I did and any obstacles were things to deal with en route. I'm now about to start doing it again. It's scary and it's exciting... but if you don't push yourself, you'll never know how far you can go.

RIP Willow: Part II...

Myself and the Missus buried the ashes of our dead cat Willow at the weekend.

We dug a pot-bound twisted willow tree out of its pot and moved it into a bigger one near the back door, with her ashes placed at the bottom of the new pot.

We both cried a bit as we said a last goodbye, but I like the idea she's now home and close-by.

I even caught myself talking to her in the garden the other day, then explained to our remaining cat, Buffy, what had happened and why she was no longer around. I always talk to my cats. I sometimes prefer them to most people.

Rest in peace, Willow. You are home.

The Little Book of Prison: The Play: Q&A...

Here's part three, the post-play question and answer session with Frankie Owens, after the rehearsed reading of the play, The Little Book of Prison.

The play by Paul Brooks is a stage adaptation of the award-winning book by former convict Frankie Owens, which was directed by Jack Lynch and produced by LynchPin Productions Theatre Company at the Guildford Fringe Festival in July 2013.

The Little Book of Prison: Part Two...

Here's part two of the rehearsed reading of the play, The Little Book of Prison.

The play by Paul Brooks is a stage adaptation of the award-winning book by former convict Frankie Owens, which was directed by Jack Lynch and produced by LynchPin Productions Theatre Company at the Guildford Fringe Festival in July 2013.

The Little Book of Prison: Part One...

Here's part one of the rehearsed reading of the play, The Little Book of Prison.

The play by Paul Brooks is a stage adaptation of the award-winning book by former convict Frankie Owens, which was directed by Jack Lynch and produced by LynchPin Productions Theatre Company at the Guildford Fringe Festival in July 2013.

RIP Willow: Part I...

Our youngest cat, Willow, was hit by a car today. One of our neighbours knocked on our door to inform us that the accident had happened and our seriously injured cat had crawled under a nearby car. So I had to go and drag her out from under it and, accompanied by the Missus, rush to the vet to see what they could do.

Willow looked awful and was panting and could barely move and, even after she was stabilised, put on painkilling medication and x-rayed, it didn't look good. She had a broken leg, a broken pelvis, kidney damage and internal bleeding... so we took the decision to have her put down.

It was a horrible decision to make: but, bizarrely, seeing her no longer suffering rather than in the absolute agony I initially found her in offered some consolation. I'm also grateful she was spotted by our neighbours as the thought of her slowly dying in agony under a car would have been too brutal.

This is the second time I've been through the process of having a seriously ill cat put down and it remains a truly horrible experience. Myself and the Missus walked home from the vet and both vowed we were never having another cat when our other one, Buffy, eventually dies.

But having pets remains a sort of life lesson. You can only get love if you give it but in giving love you also expose yourself to be hurt, betrayed or bereft. If you don't give love, however, then you may as well be dead yourself.

So, bearing that in mind, we'll probably change our position about getting a new one when we're over the pain of losing this one.

RIP, Willow. You were greatly loved and you'll be sorely missed.

Sticking Point: Part I...

I've been studying the Korean martial of hapkido for more than ten years, and every grading and every belt en route to my first dan came with its own challenges and problems.

I've now had my prized black belt for a few years and it's still a challenge to retain the standards that got me there in the first place. But, as pointed out by Winston Churchill, 'Success consists of going from failure without loss of enthusiasm.' So I just remember that struggles remain part of any process when you're trying to improve.

I started training for my second dan a while ago and I've just graded for the first part of it, so it's something I'm particularly remembering. I passed the grading so I started officially training with my first martial arts weapon yesterday.

The name of the weapon in Korean is 'Tahn bong' and this translates as 'short stick'. And I'm particularly excited about this because, as a kid (and as an adult), one of my favourite superheroes was Daredevil, a blind superhero who used a short stick.

So if times get tough and I'm struggling to learn new techniques for my second dan, I'm going to console myself with the quote from Churchill and remember work and failure always comes before success... and the fact I could be a real-life Daredevil complete with short staff in a few years.

Holiday: Part I...

Me and the Missus are back from a fortnight in Corfu. It was very much a sun, sea, sand and relaxing holiday and a chance to recharge the batteries, but now it's over I'm raring to go.

First up is the Little Book Of Prison play and how we develop the script. I'm meeting the book's author in a few days to discus how we do this. I'm thinking radio play and possible theatre tour and he's thinking Podcast.

Then it's the Contagious Diseases Acts play for my new theatre company. I've done a lot of research on this while on holiday, perching myself on the balcony with several books on prostitution and a notepad, and I think I've now got a good handle on how I want to develop the project.

And I also want to grade at martial arts at the end of the year.

So that's three pretty clear goals to aim for. Let's go...

The Little Book Of Prison: The Reading...

The first and second rehearsed readings of my new script, The Little Book Of Prison, have come and gone and it's been a thoroughly enjoyable but quite demanding experience.

Now, after a hectic time on both the work and creative fronts, it's time to take some down time and assess not only where this play goes, but where my new theatre company goes and how it gets there.

And, fortunately, a holiday in the sun beckons so it's two weeks of winding down and taking stock... and getting ready to come back stronger and make some things happen.

Watch this space...

Nostalgia...

I recently met up with a couple of old friends from my college days. Unusually for somebody who's so confident about pretty much everything, I was a bit nervous about this.

For starters, you never know how people may have changed and, secondly, they've both made their mark, one as a recording artist and the other as a TV director, and I never feel as though the potential of my youth has been fulfilled. Not yet anyway...

But it turned out to be a fab evening and they were wonderful and entertaining company, and kind and considerate... essentially the sort of adults you want all your friends to be and you hope all teenagers turn into.

We're now back in touch and we'll hook up again. They're the sort of people any sane person would want in their life and it made me a little sad that it had taken all three of us more than two decades to regain contact.

Filthy...

I'm working long hours and arrive home to find the house 'cleaned' by the cleaners. But as I wander around trying to unwind, I constantly spot bits of dirt that they've missed. I am annoyed and consult the Missus, who is now in semi-retirement and at her most relaxed for years.
I, however, am not relaxed and need to vent. So I do:
'They're cleaners but they don't fucking well clean.'
'They do most of it,' replies the Missus, more interested in watching TV.
'But there's dirt on the mantlepiece in the kitchen. That's basic cleaning because it's visible. It's not even advanced cleaning.'
'You really are like the girl in this relationship, aren't you?' replies the Missus.
'How?'
'You just see dirt everywhere. Then you get upset about it. Like a girl...'
'I'm not a girl. I'm just not a fucking slob.'

I am annoyed. Then I realise my OCD is taking over as I start to straighten things on the coffee table in the living room. Straight lines for everything. Everything in straight lines. With no dirt. That will make the world a better place...

The Book Of Mormon...

The Missus bought me tickets to The Book Of Mormon for Xmas and we went at the weekend and it was fabulous.

It's essentially a musical about two Mormons, one smart and full of pride and the other slightly half-witted and clueless, who venture to a Ugandan village in a bid to convert a desperate populace to the Mormon religion. Once here, they encounter a failing Mormon chapter, Aids, a local warlord and all other manner of problems, while also taking a journey through the history of the Mormon religion via Star Wars and Star Trek. There's a bromance and a love story, too.

Created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone of South Park fame, it's crude and irreverent but it's also bloody hilarious and it's a beautifully crafted show.

I'm a big fan of Parker and Stone. I think their long-running TV series South Park was laugh-out-loud funny while the movie Team America was one of the most astute works of art I'd ever seen discussing America's role in global politics. And the fact the latter was a genuinely funny piss-take made using Supermarionation puppets a la Thunderbirds made it all the better.

The Book Of Mormon takes the musical form and takes crude humour to point out the flaws in the Mormon religion without openly ridiculing it. And the flaws it points out in Mormonism obviously have wider implications about religious fanaticism elsewhere in the world.

It's brilliant and it's funny and, like team America, it's very smart in what it says and how it goes about saying it. It's populist without dumbing down and it's a genuinely funny and also inspiring piece of work.

Play Time...

I have a new play reading on at a local Fringe Theatre venue in a Guildford pub.

The play is an adaptation of the award-winning The Little Book of Prison by Frankie Owens, and it had its first outing earlier in the week, with author Frankie in the five-strong cast.

I'm currently in the middle of rewrites but it's been a very rewarding process so far.

For a start, I've been under the gun in my professional life with four weeks of 12-hour days at work, so I've had to really discipline myself to get this written during my commuting time over the past six weeks. And this is something I intend to continue.

It's also been a rewarding process because I've taken source material that was very good in the first place, added something of myself into it, and made something very strong. And now myself and the book's author are collaborating on the rewrites and I think we'll end up with something even stronger.

I'm very pleased so far. And we're also talking about developing the play for radio, too, and a few other projects. And we're both mad John Sullivan fans. This time next year, Rodders...

Food For Thought...

Me and the Missus are in town sat in a coffee shop. This is a regular routine now we are no longer young things going out to pubs.

We are discussing James Gandolfini, the American actor behind Tony Soprano who died recently. We are both fans of The Sopranos so genuinely lament the loss.
'He was only 51.'
'Yes. That's no age,' ponders the Missus.
'He at least had a solid body of work behind him, though.'
'He also had a solid body. And he was only a year or two older than me,' adds the Missus.
'And he wasn't anywhere near as big as you either...'

Weight gags with any women are dangerous territory. And this one could have gone either way. Instead the Missus bursts out laughing. I may well pay later, though...

Broken...

It's all change at From Beer To Paternity Towers...

I am in the throes of starting a new job while the Missus has taken voluntary redundancy, so I'm currently working longer hours while she's enjoying the prospect of well-deserved time off away from the giddy world of being an editor in the homes magazine market.

I'd already expressed concern that this could mean I would become her latest project to micro-manage, which she denied – and then told me to make her a cuppa while she decided what we were doing at the weekend.

But she is becoming a new woman and starting to do lots of things she's always been interested in, such as pottery and craft stuff, and some stuff that she actively dislikes but wants to do anyway, like running. She even had my tea on the table when I got back from work late three times this week.

I was starting to fear I make have broken her and my feisty, sarcastic girl was in danger of becoming some sort of Stepford Wife.

Then we met in the pub last night and I was greeted by the following words:
'I ran for 30 minutes today and I was sweating like a fat lass after a cake.'

On the way home she then bought me a kebab. Maybe she's not broken after all.

Quote Of The Day...

'A mind is like a parachute. It can't work properly if it's not open.'
Frank Zappa

Train-in Day...

Me and the Missus are walking to catch the train to get into work. This is pretty much our daily routine, although she insists on arriving at the platform a good 20 minutes before the train actually leaves. 

Fortunately, she has successfully applied for voluntary redundancy so her working days travelling in with me are coming to an end.

‘I won’t miss this when you’re no longer working,’ I comment.

‘What? Getting to the station on time?’ she asks.

‘It’s not on time. We’re ridiculously early every single morning.’

‘It amazes me that for somebody who is so obviously OCD that you seem to have a blind spot when it comes to punctuality. You are Mr Last Minute…’

‘It’s not ‘last minute’. It’s finely honed and perfectly scheduled.’

‘I just like to get there early so I get a seat and I don’t end sitting next to an idiot.’

‘Well I end up sitting next to an idiot every morning and it doesn’t upset me…’

She glares. I suspect that comment may mean no ‘relations’ for a few days…

Romance...

It is Sunday morning. Me and the Missus are laid in bed discussing a mutual friend.
'Has he got a girlfriend yet?' I ask.
'Don't think so...' replies the Missus.
'That's a bit sad.'
'Yes. Good people shouldn't be lonely,' ponders the Missus in a moment of compassion, before adding: 'He'll never know what it's like to see passion turn to painful irritation and ongoing annoyance.'
'You make our relationship sound like thrush...'
'What? Putting up with an annoying cunt for long periods? I couldn't possibly comment. Cup of tea?'

Love is sometimes like this...