Janey Godley’s Blog

I recently read my blog and noticed all I have done is moan and that's not good. I need to get out of my scary mood and carry on being informative and funny. Neither of which is easy when you are tired.
So I thought I would tell you a funny story about what happened on the way to the shops today.
I needed a newspaper and some bread and happily walked to the local shops, my hair was being its usual ‘Scarecrow backcombed on acid, possibly restyled by a crack whore who is blind' look. My favourite look I may add. So as I crossed the road, all my hair and I do mean the whole of my hairy head whipped in front of my face and made me totally blind for a few seconds. In these few seconds I almost got hit by a motorbike.
The biker screeched to a halt and then got off his bike, ripped off his hood and guess who it was?
Yes, it was an angry biker! A man who was pissed off that I almost killed myself beneath his very safely driven wheels stood and shouted at me.
"What are you thinking of? I almost belted you across the tarmac you mad whore?" he screamed as small Asian men laughed at me as they were coming out of the Mosque across from my home.
"I am sorry my hair got in my eyes" I mumbled.
"What is wrong with your hair? Its needs to be tied back if you can't control it, I use a hair band and some good firm gel" he answered back.
So there I was getting hair tips from an angry biker, who nearly killed me, and he did actually have good controlled hair, it was all sleek and tied back.
"I hate it tied back, it makes me look severe and old" Was all I could say back.
"Well you could just tie it back at the top and leave the rest down" He added.
How fucking surreal was my day? He was right, I either look severe or dead on the Glasgow streets....what can I say.
He said his goodbyes, gave me some more hair tips and roared off on his bike.
Today I have stopped moaning about my transient lifestyle and get on with my job and life.
A near death experience and seriously good hair advice.

 

 

 

I was nervous about being in the car and being driven a distance, but I was ok in the end. I need to get over the car crash and get on with my life. I had an odd gig in Newcastle, I addressed a group of Aspergers sufferers and their partners, my husband has mild Aspergers syndrome and talking about my experiences was actually good. The people their apparently enjoyed the talk as well and I got to answer some questions about my relationship living with a man.

 

Then I went to the Literature and Philosophy Library to take part in a panel discussing ‘Comedy-what’ s the Point?’ that was really interesting to hear peoples view on what they thought of live comedy. Later on we did a comedy gig in the library and that was awesome…being surrounded by all that history and architecture, millions of books and huge paintings getting to tell jokes and share funny stories…really odd space to work in.

 

There was a huge leather topped table, so I just climbed onto it, sat down and chatted with the microphone.

 

There were a few philosophers in the crowd and we had a bit of a banter…which was really good.

 

I love my job and need to stop worrying and being stressed, husband gave me a big talking to about my constant fretting, he made me sit down and go through my diary and helped me book five train and three flight journeys, helped me organise my diary and told me to share the problems more and stop shutting everyone out to deal with things myself.

 

I have resolved to share my work load and get into problems that get me down and in future, make sure that stuff that is worrying me will be talked about…maybe it was me who had Aspergers and not him?

 

Well, here I am on my new laptop, after all the shit of broken pc; I went out today and bought a new one. It took hours to load it all up so am sorry I have been away for a few days, not my fault...pc problems!
I am off tomorrow to Newcastle, I am doing workshop thing during the day for Aspergers Syndrome help group, as my husband has Aspergers, and boy is that fun?
So I have been exasperated by the antics of my main home computer, it broke six weeks ago and now they STILL haven't fixed it, so much for PC services, they are about as fucking useful as blind window washers; I hope they all fall into the sea with the stress they have caused me.
My new teeth are still looking good and one unexpected bonus is that I can no longer bite my nails as they will snap my veneers - so for the first time in my life I actually have nails. It feels so very weird and I am scratching everyone and everything as I go about my daily business.
I did get an apology from British Airways, they sent me a bog standard letter of sorry-ness, which to be honest will never make up for the nasty way I was treated by that angry woman at 5am in Glasgow who is the supervisor called Lillian...God knows she must need a hug after the way she behaved. I will NEVER fly BA again and would urge everyone who gets treated badly to complain and vote with your cash. I did tell the customer services woman (who was very nice) that I will be putting it on my blog which gets LOADS of hits daily...so I did it!
Mind you I have had a great week, what with hob nobbing with Mr Clooney and Jake Gylenhall... who am I to complain about anything?
Oh News just in...recent pictures in the press reveal that Kiera Knightley's new boyfriend is her co-star from Pride and Prejudice -‘Rupert Friend'.
In Edinburgh fringe 2002, Rupert was starring in a play called ‘Kassandra' with a cool crew of actors, Rupert was lovely and we became mates, in fact on my daughters bedroom wall is a picture of Rupert dressed in US Marine clothes holding me on stage as he carried me off after my last night show...he is gorgeous! I had him first Kiera!

I am slightly overwhelmed at life just now, not only am I trying to book flights to NZ, trying to secure venues for Edinburgh, trying to rehearse my play for next week AND try to be me for a few days and all I can do is sleep.
I love doing the comedy workshops for kids in Drumchapel, it really is so rewarding. Those wee teenagers really throw themselves into the improv exercises and take part in every scenario we give them. I will miss them when it all ends.
I feel ragged and tired and can't seem to get on top of everything at home, the ironing has come to resemble Mount Killimonjaro and the windows have so much dirt on them I think a dense fog has landed on Glasgow ever single morning when I try to look out into the street.
So tonight I am going to bed early to sleep more and try to be rejuvenated for tomorrow.

 

So here I am back in Glasgow, my blogs have been very sporadic due to the nature of my life and laptop, so here we are then...the full story. I had a really mental week to be coping with and after the car crash, the early flight where BA totally screwed me around at 5am, to the dash to the BBC in Television centre to do an audition with a script that I had only been given the day before, I was stunned that I actually managed to speak English and got through the audition no problem! Trust me my brain was fried.

To make matters worse the cab driver who took me to my flat turns out to be the ex husband of a TV star, he is Italian and around 50 years of age and spent the whole journey telling me what a slut his actress ex wife was. This man was obnoxious and I sat there as he told me how many men she fucked, how she drank too much and what a bitch she was until I finally snapped and said "Maybe you drove her to all that with your constant whingeing, I personally feel like fucking strangers just to get away from you, please drive the car and stop disrespecting women and keep your opinions to yourself"
Getting to the flat was a relief.

The flat is great as always, I love the people at Crown Lawn who always look after me and they are the one solid thing and security I have in London! The internet connection is spot on, and the place is always immaculately clean.

Going to the After show party at the Brits was exciting, though as explained before the amount of near naked girls was slightly disturbing. At least the BAFTA's are always guaranteed to be classy.
I have to add that my nights at the Groucho club were just spectacular; I took a couple of copies of my autobiography for the staff there who had requested them. Meeting Jude Law (who I had met previously) and the charming Ben Chaplin was a nice experience. They were both really nice guys to have a chat with.

The night of the BAFTA's was such a trauma; firstly I was so excited about seeing the article in the Sunday Times

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I was very happy with the way the magazine dealt with Ashley and I, the Sunday Times are very good at their job.

So there I was all hyper and I laid out all my clothes to get prepared for my big night. I decided to do a new hairdo, I decided I would blow dry my hair straight and then put in a collection of rollers around the ends of my hair to give it a wee wavy look...well that was the idea, turns out that half the fucking nasty wee evil rollers got tangled into my wiry bushy hair and had to be physically ripped out, taking half my scalp with it! I looked like an owl that had been through 40 minutes in a dry cycle of a tumble dryer and I only had 20 minutes to go before the taxi picked us up!
So I had to stand naked in front of the mirror ( I cant blow dry fully clothed it would make me sweat to death) and fix the ends of my hair and then rush back on all of my clothes. Just then I realised I couldn't find my sexy necklace...so in a blind panic I ripped everything out of the wardrobe, scattered all my stuff out of my case and finally found the damn thing. I stood up, all sweaty, hair all bushy (again) and finally put on my necklace, the taxi arrived and Monica and I were off.

London was dark and very rainy, I envisioned squelching down the red carpet with brolly ends poked into my skull...well my scalp was already numb from the roller ripping event.
The taxi was caught in heavy traffic, we started to panic as we approached Leicester Square and encountered traffic works that prevented us from getting into the square. Time was crucially ticking away, we had to be in by 6pm or they close the doors.

All the big stars had already been down the red carpet, I know this as Ashley was keeping me updated by phone. Finally the car made it into the square after the police showed the driver where to go and we were literally the last to get there, we found out later.
We got out of the car, a huge guy offered us a brolly and off we went. The sides of the red carpet were rammed with hundreds of photographers all screaming and shouting at the few stars who were still promenading down the entrance to the cinema that was the venue for the awards.

The rain squelched as I predicted beneath my leather stiletto's, the ground was slippy and I realised with horror that we have to actually climb a set of Perspex stairs and get up onto a huge transparent platform made of illuminated glass and walk to the other side down more steps taking us into the main door. This arrangement was daunting, more so as every step of the way had hundreds of photographers and fans all watching ever move.
My heart almost stopped as the minute I put foot onto the glass walkway my feet skated....fuck- I was going to fall on my well dressed, bushy haired ass in front of the world's media.

I felt the brolly being carried by Monica jag into my head; I walked slowly and yet elegantly all the while breathing slowly, as I managed to get to the other side I saw Heath Ledger being interviewed on the carpet down the five ominous steps now facing me.
I took the first step and managed it, the second step and gained confidence, the third and fourth step were slippy and the final step caught me out. It was shorter than the rest and wetter, my heart lurched, I stumbled, I saw the bank of photographers at a slightly skewed angle as my body fell forward, my knee buckled and my body weight was heaving forward and then by some amazing luck and skill I actually recovered....I never hit the floor and landed in a puddle behind Heath Ledger...I heard a few of the photographers laugh loudly, some gasped... but I made it.
I saw the smartly dressed staff in front of me, egging me on to get to the door without falling over, like parents encouraging their wee kids to the final line of the egg and spoon race.
I was upright and marching home to the big glass doors and safety. They practically hugged me as I got there! A big man in a dinner suit reached out his arms and helped me get over a wet patch on the carpet and led me in from the rain and horror of that near ass fall!

I was home and dry...thank God. We rushed up to our seats and found the show actually starting! Fucking how late were we? I was staggered at the amount of people and the seats were the furthest away up the back and right against the side, it was like sitting on a cheap airline seat in a posh frock! What crap seats...we could not even see the stage! Monica and I were crushed and damp and annoyed at the horrid seating.
I decided it would be easier to just get back out of the seat and stand in aisle up the back and watch the show. So I did.

The show was long and I missed some of it as I went outside into the foyer and sat on a big comfy chair and watched it on a monitor, which was all I was doing inside the auditorium, but in a tiny chair.

The show finally finished and we got a car to take us to the ball at the Grosvenor Hotel. As we were walking down the stairs, Jake Gyllenhall was standing alongside us, clutching his gloriously gold BAFTA award.

A lady beside me asked him "Can I touch it?"
Jake smiled and held it to her to touch; we all slowly kept making our way slowly on the stairs.

He smiled at me and I said "Can I stroke it?"
He politely held it to me and I added quickly "No...not that!" and he laughed out loudly and people around us laughed. He then opened his expensive black jacket and said "Help yourself"
So I stood there and giggled as I stroked his very toned chest! He then lifted up the back of his jacket and grabbed my hand and put it on his ass and added "You want some of this!" I kept laughing, his smile was huge and he obviously has a good sense of humour.
I told him I was a stand up comic and he answered "I love stand up, wow what's your name?" We chatted a bit more and then reached the ground floor entrance to the ball.
What a guy, we then posed for a picture. I was well happy!
You can see the photo's on

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As you can see I also managed to have a good chat and photo with George Clooney...albeit in the gents toilets...well that's another story!

Well I have finally broken my ‘I don’t drink’ statement, ok let me make this very clear, I choose not to drink alcohol as I don’t like being that drunk feeling BUT Monica and I went for a night out to the famous Groucho club in London. It’s an exclusive private club that is mainly attended by the TV, media and film people. I love it there and the place is really nice to hang out in, no mad London tourists, no crazy buskers or half naked girls trying to fuck a footballer, just nice interesting people who like nice places….and to network. So I decided (why?) to have a gin and tonic, an occasional drink is cool for me and I like to have one now and again, but after four gin and tonics, I was giggly. Which didn’t seem to bother me, but I felt a wee bit dizzy….anyway we chatted with Jude Law, Ben Chaplin and a few other famous actors who either Monica or I knew through our work connections, she was having a natter to a couple of journalists also. So the company was good, the drinks flowed and I staggered slightly for the first time in years…Monica laughed her ass off at me, she is a bitch! We had a great time and the guys famous or not were great form and you do forget that you are chatting to really popular people and end up talking about mundane stuff and sharing wee stories. I decided enough was enough and I needed to go home, not until I hit the fresh air did I feel the full effect of the alcohol and getting a taxi was a fucking nightmare, but we made it and I finally got to bed and just lay there watching the ceiling spin. Ok Jude Law would have made that a more exciting time…but alas…I am married and he is not really into dating older married fat women…

I have had the most horrible couple of days. After the car crash, I had to stay up to 5am to get to the airport in the hope British Airways would let me on the first flight. I did this on the advice of their call centre staff, when I got there the staff did give me a stand by ticket, then a really angry supervisor decided that I wasn’t getting the ‘free’ upgrade to an earlier flight and made me buy a new ticket. I did this as I had an audition with BBC at 11.30am, I did explain to her I was acting on advice from BA staff but she stood there all angry and mental and said I was “immoral asking the ‘girls’ on the desk for an early ticket as this is impossible” I was about to tell her about how sitting in a BA plane for three hours on the tarmac after getting me out of bed at 4am for a 7am flight that never took off till 11am last December was fucking evil, never mind immoral, but I saw she was one of those women who will always be right, even in the face of wrongness…poor cow. But I am going to write and complain to her boss, when I get home. So anyway, there I was flying into London early and got straight to the apartment in time for a change of clothes and coffee. I made it to the BBC centre in time and the audition passed very quickly, I think I did the best I could. This part is for a Scottish drama and the good thing is, IF I get this part I get to ride a ‘Penny Farthing Bicycle’ how cool is that? I dashed off back to the flat to get ready for the Brits party; I took ages with my hair and make up as I did want to look nice. Finally I met up with Emma, my publicist from Ebury Press. We got through the whole ‘red carpet’ door scenario and walked downstairs at the Astor which used to be the Atlantic Bar, where I used to run a comedy club in 2001. I love the old Art Deco bar, it really does remind you of a bygone era, all original Art Deco fittings, marble pillars, ornate ceiling, huge chandelier…it looks like the interior of the Titanic! Anyway on the floor at the entrance to the main bar was a huge projection of a swimming pool complete with huge big Koi Carp dashing about…it was scary to step on, my brain knew it was a silver screen on the floor with a digital projector but my eyes kept dashing around trying to make sense of the image as I literally walked on water…and fish! We got seated and then in came a horde of very near naked girls…I have to tell you how funny this was…one girl was small and very skinny but with HUGE un-natural globe like fake breasts, the nipples of which were poking though a fluorescent pink string vest she was wearing (she had no bra of course), all she had on underneath the pink string vest was a pink tiny g-string, her hair was that extreme white blonde and she looked like she had just opened her make up bag and shook it over her face! She was surrounded by equally near naked girls who almost all looked the same, g-strings, big hair burst make up bag affliction… As I went to the loo…pink fluorescent girl was lying on the swimming pool effect flooring, the digital fish swam everywhere as the blue water shimmered on the screen, she laughed with photographers around her, she then spread her legs wide and at that very moment I said loudly “I don’t know if you know but as you opened you legs a big animated fish swam into your vagina!” The photographers laughed loudly and pink girl looked at me annoyed and sniggered “Well old woman, are you lying down here getting YOUR picture taken?” I looked at her from a strange angle and then walked round to see her face and I replied “No, I am not because I managed to get an education, not a very good one to be honest but one that will ensure I never have let fish swim up my vag in front of strange men!” Again people laughed and I then felt desperately sorry for her, I was annoyed at taking the piss out if her as she really believes she is doing what empowers her and maybe it does, I just don’t agree with it and I shouldn’t mock her for choosing that life…who am I to judge? Now the whole room was heaving with minor and major stars of the music business, young men stared at the semi naked pouting girls for a short while, the pouting girls were now kissing each other, maybe for two reasons… 1) They were disappointed in the men there 2) If they pretended to be lesbians the men would want them more… Anyway as I watched the men watching the women, the actually became strangely immune to them and after a while women who were dressed actually became objects of curiosity! I had four young guys come over to chat to me as they assumed that as I was older and had clothes on I must be influential in the music business, the pushed the sexy girls out of the way to sit beside me and were pretty annoyed to find out I was just a stand up comic/writer. It was a funny night and yet good fun, I saw loads of famous people, who largely sat by themselves or with their minders and chatted intently, as the near naked girls giggled and chattered like wee gaudily dressed sparrows on the fringes of the room. Lets hope they had fun!

www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/comedy/jonronso n_on.shtml

Check the show i was on...click on the link if you want

We just left Manchester hotel, I decided that being so shattered I would lie down in the back and sleep all the way home. So I propped a pillow in the back seat, made a wee cosy bed, strapped on my seat belt and snuggled down. I was tense, yet tired; I hate trying to sleep in the car and made an effort to relax. I was listening to radio 4, there was a guy on saying the worse stress he ever suffered was when his car crashed and he looked at the shock on his wife's face and I wondered how my husband would react in that situation. I could feel the engine purr along, the car stop and start through city traffic and then...BANG, I was thrown forward, my head hit the driver's seat and then I slumped back, glass shattered all over me and I sat straight up to see a bus behind us all mangled at the front....a fucking big bus!

Husband had stopped at the entrance to a roundabout to check for on coming traffic (as you do, ramming onto a roundabout without checking is known as suicide) there were traffic lights in the approach to the roundabout, maybe three bus lengths behind the entrance onto the actual roundabout. The bus saw them as green...looked right to check for traffic as he came up to the roundabout...strangely enough he never looked in front of himself and crashed straight into our stationery vehicle!

The bus was busy with passengers, I jumped out of the car and my head was numb with the bang it got, I checked myself for any cuts and watched husband walk over to the bus man who shouted "You were stopped there on the line and those lights back there were green, so this is your fault"
Husband looked at him and walked away and came over to check if I was ok, as he came near, bus driver came with him "You must be in shock mister bus driver, to assume that you can crash into stationery vehicles and be annoyed that they were in your way is just nuts" I spoke quietly.

Our insurance people quickly assured us that we are in the right, the roundabout was indeed not governed by any lights and in any case if it were and we had stopped at a green light and were stationery as the bus approached (as we were) then it's the bus drivers fault for not looking in front of himself. That did not stop the panic and shock settling in.
I had a 5am rise tomorrow, a BBC drama audition, a party to attend and a flight to make...WHY ME?

We drove home in a back windowless car, it rained inside the car, which was an experience...we were shocked and shattered but above all safe. I will post a pic or a link to it here soon as possible.

I am now in Manchester, the drive from Leeds was easy. Just as I have my whole diary worked out, everything is thrown into disarray. I am going home tomorrow to do a workshop with the kids then on Wednesday I fly to London at Midday so I can attend the Brits party and I would be staying in London till Monday so I can attend the BAFTA awards on Sunday. Then I get a phone call from BBC wanting me to attend an audition in GLASGOW on Thursday!
I cannot possibly fly to London then fly home and fly back! That's madness and BA already get the lions share of my cash as it is!
Luckily, BBC have arranged for me to get the audition in London on Wednesday morning at 11-30am. So I am flying out of Glasgow at 6am instead!
I am so fucking stressed trying to organise my life, I don't know if I actually live in London now.
Husband was annoying me trying to talk over my phone calls and that made me mental, he doesn't understand that whilst I am trying to make adjustments to my diary I am not interested in how many towels are in this hotel room. At least there are no ‘see through' stacking tables in this room as his aspergic brain just couldn't comprehend the wee tables in that flat in Leeds, "If I cant see them, then they do not exist" is his thinking.
So I am off to learn a whole script before Wednesday and now go off to record a show for BBC radio four....my head is going to explode, yet husband has just asked me "Do you fancy a wee kiss and hug before you go?"
If I kill him you are all my witness's.

I am a nasty whore lately, we are staying in this wee serviced flat and everything is so small and close. The flat is great don't get me wrong but small ‘see through' plastic tables that are knee high and my big clumsy husband do not a partnership make.

He is making me mental, we are not used to being stuck together in such a small space, I climbed into bed, I had to go from the bottom and climb up as there is no real space at the sides and as I climbed I accidentally put my pillow on his face as he slept and he screamed thinking I was trying to suffocate him, I wasn't then but now I might.

The flat is cool, the advantages out weigh the cons as we have a full kitchen and good TV service and Free internet!

I cant wait to see Ashley, she called last night and told me at her Karaoke night she hosts there was a big mental man with a big cut on his head trying to sing "Who's Sorry Now" she made me laugh telling me the whole scene, step by step....thank God she has his height, looks, brown eyes, good hair yet my DNA!

Well I have to apologise to my bloggers who normally receive a ‘February Newsletter'. My pc has been screwed and I haven't had time to get it done. Sorry!

I was appalled to see in our National press, British soldiers attacking some Iraq' youths, this is fucking terrifying and morally awful...who wants to be the parents of these young men? Who fucked them up so far that they attack helpless people in such a degrading manner? War makes people mental but it shouldn't make them violent to that extent, we can't become animals in the face of an enemy.

I am also annoyed at the whole ‘Drawings of Mohammed' situation sparked off in Denmark. I am a stand up comic and I reserve the right to take the piss out of anything I see fit. On stage I laugh at Catholics, protestants and Jewish people, the audience laugh...but when I say the word ‘Muslim' they all go squeamish and nervously quiet...surely its ok to talk about every religion? Surely leaving out the Muslims that's a form of discrimination?
It turns out that photo copies of Mohammed dressed up as a paedophile were passed around extremist groups, when the Danish press were confronted by these images they were horrified as they NEVER drew those cartoons. It was extremist groups that drew them themselves and admitted this saying "This is what they would look like if you had drawn them"
That's fucking outrageous! It was done to incite more hatred!
The world is mental.

I have one more gig tonight at Leeds Jongleurs and tomorrow I drive through to Manchester to take part in the BBC Radio 4 show '60 acts in 60 Minutes', then I go home for one night and fly out to London on Wednesday to go to party season central! Brits and Bafta's in one week? I am a society IT girl....well tit girl to be honest!

I am sorry it has been a few days since my last blog, the laptop went a bit slow and it needed a clean out.
The shows are going great, I love being up there on stage doing my stuff.
Have been really inspired with comedy again after doing the workshops with kids lately, they are so honest and funny. Every week, I take 14 teenagers on a comedy workshop; I want them to gain confidence and fun from comedy. Some of those kids are so fucking funny when they get up, I see them just throwing themselves into it full tilt and I love it.
The improve exercises get them into the groove and they really do show a great interest in performing; some of the one liners they come out with are hysterical.

So I am still in Leeds, I went shopping yesterday for a decent outfit to wear to the Brit Awards night. Now those who know me know that I am small, quite chubby (less now since I have stopped eating rubbish) but my boobs are huge for a small person like me 36DD.

So I stand in the designer store looking at fabrics colours and then am approached by the skinniest, nubile gay-est man in the world "Can I help you?" He asked. So I explained that I needed an outfit and he escorted me over to a range of clothing that would never have even fitted around my fucking wrist...I am not joking...these clothes were for some eleven year old girl who looked like a seven year old boy...to be precise.

I looked the shop assistant in the eye and then pointed to my two huge Scottish globes and said "Do you honestly know what I am pointing at? These are tits, and they are huge, there is nothing in that range that accommodates my tits, do you have clothes for women here or is everything for women who date men who like their women to look like children? Did Gary Glitter design these clothes? Did Michael Jackson help him out?"

The lovely wee gay dude burst out laughing and we literally held onto each other pissing ourselves giggling, he then started to try to stretch some of the tiny clothes across my boobs; this went on until people started commenting and we stopped. I never got an outfit, but I have a new screaming queen gay pal.

I have nothing to wear, but who cares, its not as if I dress up better and Kanye West will want me, I already have a man who wants me, ok he is not famous or a black rap artist, but he does go to the chemist to get me tampax...cant see 50 cent doing that can you?

I have been so bloody busy, I have had not one minute to blog, but finally am here in Leeds. I am staying at the K-Space apartments as I detest hotels now; I have had my fill of them. Serviced apartments are the way to go, this wee solo flat is cool. As usual I am staying around a building site (everywhere I go in England its being developed!) but the flat is nice...really helpful guy called Steven met us and greeted us...makes a difference.

The new teeth are nice, I am still not used to having a full straight smile of white teeth and I can't stop staring at them! Now I have noticed my wrinkles, double chin and may have to get plastic surgery to make me look pretty! I am JOKING!
I read with horror Madonna's article in Elle magazine, she says "I don't like being this skinny, but all the men I have dated including my husband Guy like me very thin, so I starve myself to look how he desires me, I prefer a bit of meat on me, but Guy hates it"
Well, there we are, well done Madonna...I am sure even your kabala people will love that you starve yourself in case you are not loved. Surely if her religion is that strong to her soul, she would not give a flying fuck what a mere mortal thought of her body and she would have the religious security in herself to be who she wants to be....
I can just imagine loads of young women reading that article and reinforcing this current trend we have for young females risking their own well being to stay dangerously thin.
You only have to look at Victoria Beckham to see how far this trend has entrenched itself in the 21st century, the irony is, despite Victoria starving herself, her husband fucks other woman. There is a lesson there for us all ladies!
Eat cake -get laid.

I didn’t sleep well last night, because my husband woke me up at 3am…because he thought that would be a good idea. Despite me telling him I never slept well in London, despite me explaining how I hadn’t had a decent night’s kip in days, he thought a 3am booty call was cool. We still aren’t talking; I am scared to look at him lest I stab him! Lovely! So I stayed up till 6am calling New Zealand and checking details of the tour and stuff. I did go back to bed and fell into a scary sleep that fucked me up a bit and at 3pm I had a dental appointment, the final treatment to get my new veneers fitted. I lay there tired and grumpy as the poor man tiled my mouth for me. The job was done, so I went into the reception to pay. My credit card bounced! Maybe the dentist would have to take the veneers back off as I hadn’t paid. I started to call the credit card company and then my phone started ringing, I had BBC radio, BBC TV and gigs all being booked right there in the dental receptionist desk, she started taking notes for me. I still hadn’t paid the fee, there seems to be a problem with my card and a payment that didn’t go through, so I whipped out another card and paid my bill. I have no idea what has happened with my card, but I am sure it will be fine. I am booked for 60 acts in 60 minutes next week in Manchester, it’s a cool BBC show and I am chuffed to be on it. I just need to organise my life and get everything done and sometimes it gets all on top pf me and I lie awake panicking that I have forgot something. My poor daughter Ashley had been vomiting all night and throwing up all day, I feel so bad for her, she has some food poisoning. There is nothing worse watching your own child being that sick, I would do anything to take it off her and let her be safe and well. I am sure she will be fine. I will post a final picture of my teeth as soon as my laptop lets me download them. Husband will never wake me up again; I will actually kill him if he does!

Tonight was just fucking great; there were at least 40 acts on in an extravaganza at the Hackney Empire in London last night. I had been groggy all day due to the nightmares, and this made me feel like shit, but I cheered up when I arrived. My old mate Findlay and his friends were coming and I was too tired to meet them beforehand and this annoyed me. I got to the amazing old theatre at 8pm, the show had just started and there were loads of huge stars that were friends of the late great Malcolm milling around backstage, Jools Holland and his band Squeeze were there, Arthur Smith, Boothby Graffoe, Jimmy Carr, Stewart Lee, Kevin Eldon, Brian Damage and Krystal, that bloke from the Fast Show whose name escapes me, Malcolm’s old mates from the Tunnel club and many more I cannot clearly recall…it was so good to see so many people who loved Malcolm turn up for his benefit gig. I was horribly nervous as the night went on but seeing so many familiar faces soon calmed me down. I was on so near the end, it was me, then Johnny Vegas and then the infamous Balloon Dancers that Malcolm had created many years ago and that was the close of the show. I did hit the stage nervous as the crowd had been very cruel and heckled all the way through poor Jimmy Carr’s set, yet he pulled them back and made the best he could of a conflicted audience. I did talk too quick for the first 50 seconds, being on that HUGE stage in front of that HUGE audience made me jitter, but then I settled ok and enjoyed my stage time. Then Johnny Vegas came on, he was already drunk and a bit shouty, he didn’t really capture the crowd and then it all went downhill on a bobsleigh, Johnny normally thrives on this kind of situation, but he became incoherent and the crowd went for his throat. He rambled on some more and then tried to get the crowd on its feet to honour Malcolm, but people started leaving as they thought this was the end….We were meanwhile all standing side stage and we knew the balloon dancers had to go on, time was running out, the people were heckling each other and Johnny became morose and mumbly. One of the spectacular Can Can dancers who were on earlier tries to distract him and lead him off but he was having none of it, so the MC ran on and started to introduce the next act (the infamous Balloon dance), just then I snuck on and twisted my hand round Johnny’s jacket and quickly lead him off. There was no other way to do it and the crowd were getting so stroppy, he had been getting louder and drunker…it really was time for him to get off. The press were there in droves and I was worried the show would fall apart, which to be honest would have been just like a Malcolm type show anyway. John Fleming who had put the whole thing together was amazing throughout and I would like to take this opportunity to thank him for what would have been a grotesque nightmare in the hands of any other organiser, all those egos? All that alcohol? All those things that can go wrong? He kept his cool and that is a testimony to his friendship, Malcolm would have been chuffed. Well done Mr Fleming…you pulled it off!

I stayed up late last night as I couldn’t sleep properly after having napped at 6pm –ish, so finally I went to bed at 4am. I had a multiple horrific type nightmare. I got out of bed in the dark, I didn’t know where I was, I banged my knee off the bedstead and tried hard to familiarise myself with the apartment. I rarely stay in the same one twice, so it’s hard to recall where light switches and the layout of the place. So I managed to get into the hall and my brain was all fuggy, I was scared and confused as I desperately slid my hands on the walls that surrounded me looking for light switches. Finally my hand felt something metal on the wall and I clicked it on, the light scorched my eyes, my brain was telling me to go back into the bedroom to find my phone and check what time it was as all the heavy drapes were pulled and I couldn’t tell from the sky outside what time of day or night I was in. My heart was pounding from the fear of the dream…nightmare dream to be honest. The marble floor in the bathroom was warm and I remembered the under floor heating, but I was sweating and my hands felt sticky, I looked at my outstretched palms and my eyes could hardly take in what I was seeing, they were covered in blood…I turned to run out of the bathroom but the floor slipped beneath me and there standing in the hall was a man…I didn’t know who he was, I tried to scream but he leapt in one movement and grabbed my throat and held me down. I saw his face as he got closer, I could see bits of flesh hanging off and his blood dripped into my eyes and made me blind. I tried to catch my breath and he took one fist and punched me hard in the chest and I felt my lungs empty in one swift gasp. I lay there and let the darkness swallow me and as my eyes cleared I saw a wee girl sitting in the shower, her nightdress was familiar, though I don’t know how, she was wet and shivering and begging for me to help her, but I couldn’t, I did try to get up but the man put his feet on my neck and reached over and grabbed the wee girl out of the shower. As she was pulled past me, she stared at me crying yet keeping eye contact and I recognised her…it was me when I was small. I know her and I felt her fear as she passed me. I tried to shout at the man as he pulled her body across the bathroom floor, she reached out her hand to me to pull her back but my arms wouldn’t move and the man just stood her up and dragged her nightdress over her head, she stood there naked and I saw her skinny ribs on her back, she was covered in bruises and then…she just walked with him into the bedroom and I lay there shouting but nothing came out. I lay there and could hear her screaming as he panted. Then I woke up. One day this will stop and I will save her, maybe not today.

So I went to Aberdeen, did the gig came back to the tiny bed and breakfast that had more rules than Barlinnie High Security prison. I stayed awake as I had a 6am flight to go to London to take part in the Trisha Goddard Chat show on UK national TV in UK. The show was a one off special about child abuse, I was on to talk about my book and my own past abuse as they wanted someone who was a ‘survivor’ on the show and that was my role. I was so very tired when I got on the plane at 6am. I sat beside a chatty woman and I wanted to kill her “So what do you think of hardcore fisting porn?” I asked her and she never spoke the rest of the journey. That’s works every time. I was so tired when I got off, but my hair was perfect as I had spent the whole night fussing with it when I had nothing else to do in Aberdeen. My driver was there to take me straight to the TV studios, I got there, was welcomed in, got the make up girl in to literally paste me in her entire collection of face colourings, then got changed into the nice outfit I picked and then almost fell asleep. I was getting worried as the TV Company had not received my book so I called my publisher and they biked one over, it came just in time for the filming. The show went up and there was a few women on talking about their sexual abuse experiences, it was heart wrenching. I then got my moment to talk about my life, my book and Trisha was awesome. What a lovely woman. So then I left the show and was whisked off to the amazing flat in Westminster ( I will never stop bigging up these apartments and will be in Dumase’s debt forever for her constant help, she is the sassiest chick in London). I promptly fell asleep at the flat and woke up to about fourteen fucking annoying phone calls, but one was amazing I have been invited to the VIP party of the BRIT awards, these are the UK’s premier Music Awards….am so excited. Maybe 50 cent will be there and ask me to marry him or at the very least casual sex?

So I caught the train to Aberdeen, I finally get to the wee bed and breakfast. My hands were so cold dragging my trolley case that fingers went blue and I could not even write my name in the register. Aberdeen is freezing. The gig was completely sold out and the crowd were well noisy, the first two acts went on and got some level of respect, but up the back the guys were chatting and heckling. I dealt with them fine and one guy shouted “Stop speaking you bitch” I was annoyed and answered “Is that you arguing with your gay lover?” The crowd let out a big laugh and then the guy replied “Actually Janey, I was telling those two women talking to shut up” That was ME shut up! I did apologise and the crowd laughed and I said “I am not used to people standing up for me!”. They were a really nice bunch, so I finished the gig and walked home in the near 2 below zero frost taking my breath from my body. My lips are sore as I had to go back to the dentist this morning at 9am as the impression he took to get my veneers made went wrong and that blue sticky stuff tears the skin from my lips…all my fault I suppose for giving the dentist a ‘bad impression’….BOOM BOOM! So here I am in the wee room. The bed and breakfast kindly gave me the smallest room; I asked “Do you have a smaller room than this?” “No…that’s the smallest one we have” the lady answered. “I thought so” I smiled. It really is small and narrow and get this- there is three sets of lights in here with three different light switches! I mean for fucksake, you strike a match in here and the place is illuminated! So I am awake as I have a five am cab ride to Dyce Airport in Aberdeen as I am the Tricia Goddard chat show tomorrow on national TV, they have a one off special dealing with abuse survivors who are making the best of life….well I don’t know if that is true about me, but I am sure talking about the book and comedy will be fun regardless of my abuse status. Chat to you all in London…