Janey Godley's Blog

Dec 31, 2005 at 03:26 o\clock

Those Crazy Russians….

Was up visiting my sister Ann on Boxing day, my sister has four kids and four grand kids (the famous Abi from previous Blogs is the youngest grand daughter), my sister had a full house of kids including Abi who was screaming “The Robert frightens me” as she pointed at her brother Shaun’s’ remote controlled ‘robot’. There were teenagers arguing over MP3 players, dogs barking, people trying to watch TV too loud and a knock at the door which I answered.

There on my sister’s door step stood a lanky geeky looking dude with a big smile and a Santa scarf.

 

“Hello I am Russian student” he smiled and for some obscure reason clicked his heels in a Nazi type ‘spring time for Hitler dance way’.

 

 I looked at him and said “Really? Where in Russia?”

 

His eyes got bigger he smiled more and stuttered “Erm Russia”

 

“Where in Russia?” I asked again. At that moment Abi decided to squeeze her wee blonde ringlet fat head through my thighs, between my legs and stare at him, it must have looked like I had just popped a curly headed small Gene Wilder from my crotch.

 

“I am selling these pictures” he ignored the small Willy Wonka type girl and carried on regardless.

 

 In his hand was a shiny, metallic kitsch illustration of Jesus, he held it up for full effect.

 

“That’s Jebus” Abi giggled as I shoved her back through my legs and pushed her into the small hall that led directly into the living room where every one now was watching me and the strange Russian picture seller.

 

“No thanks we have pictures of Jesus” I told him….he tried quickly to come back and flashed a new shiny picture of a unicorn.

 

 “I also have fantasy” he smiled.

 

“Jesus is fantasy, we have enough of both here thanks, listen mate we are stocked up on crazy in here go sell that shit else where” I laughed and shut the door.

 

My sister gasped and giggled “Janey that was rude”

 

“He wasn’t a Russian, selling fucking strange shiny foil pictures, that’s shit” I spat.

“That’s shit” Abi repeated. Then I gasped and sat for a whole hour telling her Aunty Janey says bad words that must never be repeated.

 

“Is mental patient a bad word?” her big brown eyes looked at me over my sister’s kitchen table, her wee innocent pouting mouth smiling at me.

“No, but Aunty Janey was wrong for teaching you that and you must stop calling everyone it as its not nice” I explained…I forgot I told her that ages ago and she remembered it clearly.

“But that man at the door with shiny pictures is actually a mental patient!” I giggled.

I know I was wrong, but he was nuts.

Well tomorrow is New Years Eve, or later on today actually as this is now after 1am! I am on stage tonight at Jongleurs, hope it all goes well.

 

Have fun all Janey.

Dec 30, 2005 at 03:50 o\clock

Here comes the snow…

I had a good day today, went out for lunch with my old school pals Janette and Jean. It’s always nice to catch up with them both. We went for lunch and walked around town and by the time we left the restaurant the snow had started to come down heavily and the town looks awesome with the twinkling lights and drifting snow flakes. I love the snow, although I know it does kill people…well mostly old people and bad drivers, I still think it makes the city look clean and nice. Tonight I sat at the window watching for my husband to come back from the supermarket (I hate shopping, I eat it but hate doing the hunter gatherer thing with the credit card…it bores me) anyway out in the car park people were playing snowball fights and making snow men, so I decided to get on my wellies and go join them. Ashley was screaming “Mum please get off those old velvet leggings and those wellies, you like the nutty old woman who smells of piss and cats and scares the kids” I merely smiled and ran down the stairs….can you believe my daughter thinks there is a certain clothing etiquette for snow ball fights? How strange! I sat beside the snow man and was unsure if he needed a snow man penis and snow balls, then husband arrived in the car and asked me why I was sitting beside a snowman. I smiled at him and said “He loves me and I melt his heart” “Please help me with the shopping, I have chicken” was his romantic answer. So there we have it, there are some pictures of this I will post or go to http://uk.photos.yahoo.com/janeygodley/ Check them out!

Dec 28, 2005 at 19:49 o\clock

The Rush is over…

Thank God we all ‘survived’ Christmas…I was sick of reading articles in magazines shouting’ How to Survive Christmas’ as if it was some ordeal, well in some countries it is, but that’s not really what the article was aiming at. It was writing some crud on how to prepare a mammoth eating feast, how to buy a glittery black dress, how to set a table and yadda yadda other stuff about other shit.

 

We bought ‘ready to eat food’ and some cold drinks and sat, ate dinner and watched TV in between working on stage and my daughter doing DJ work (she is working as a DJ whilst studying, she reckons pressing a button every three minutes is infinitely easier than serving cooked greasy chips at £4 an hour).

I had a fun morning, AGAIN a radio show BBC Radio 5 live called me early to see if I would take part in a call in show about ‘Scot’s who live abroad and Scot’s who wont leave Scotland’.

I said ‘yes’ then fell back asleep, then an hour later the call came and I was groggy and talked for ages on stuff I wasn’t sure about until the host of the show asked me live on air ‘Janey sell me Scotland in ten seconds’.

 

I took a deep breath, tried to clear my dreamy head (that incidentally was still having sex with Cachi from happy Days) and said really loudly

‘We have water, good food, we don’t deep fry mars bars, we have lovely scenery, we love people and we like to chat and we have water’

When I had finished I could hear my husband laughing in the other room, he was listening live to the show on the radio.

 

The host said ‘We have water? Janey we have water in England as well’

My brain kicked in and I realised I just said the shit about water and I then I explained ‘We have clean good water’ and then he said goodbye live on air.

 

 I switched off the phone and fell back asleep and went onto to dream about a crazy jaggy nailed cat that was stuck fast to the back of my thighs and no amount of pulling could get it off my flesh, then I had was kissing Boutros Boutros Galle as we both tried to remove the blood sucking evil flesh scratching cat. That’s my life, all pussy and no fun.

Dec 28, 2005 at 00:16 o\clock

I love being a Poster Girl…

My daughter went out last night, she doesn’t often go drinking ( that always worries me as I have an issue with booze, but must never make her paranoid about it, even though I never had problems with alcohol, I come from people who did and still do).

 

Anyway, she was up Curlers bar and was out partying with some guys. In the background was my face on just about every poster she could see, Curlers do comedy and she was surrounded by me from every angle. She told me that as a guy was being dirty mouthed and chatty with her…over his shoulder was my face staring at her from the comedy advertising! How cool?

 

I love that and am now going to insist she can only go drinking where I am the poster girl in the background.

 

I was looking after baby Abi last night, she stayed over and is only two years old but her rendition of Kaiser Chiefs ‘I Predict a Riot’  whilst she played with my nativity set was tear jerkingly funny.

She told me that the Blackman in the nativity set was scaring the wee ‘lady in Blue’ (Jesus’ mammy), she then made the blonde man who carries a sheep on his shoulder (who is this guy? What Blonde Swedish porn star made it to Jerusalem?) Kiss baby Jesus, who Abi declared was a girl. ‘Ith a baby girl, yeth it is” she lisped as she made Holy Mary lie beside the black man and then tried to prise the small gifts out of the hands of the King.

 

I laughed till my eyes hurt, her Pee Wee Herman version of the Nativity was hysterical and all set to the tunes of Kaiser Chiefs…who needs more than that? Fucking gig of the century in my eyes. We went round to the Bistro to see some mates and Dante was there, it was good to see him as he has been on tour with his rock band El Presidente, he laughed out loud at Abi singing Greenday and Kaiser Chiefs as well and declared the baby one of the best lead rock singers under three and we cheered and Abi took a bow! How professional of her…hang on she was getting too much attention and to be honest that’s my job.

 

Unfortunately she had to go home as her mummy wants her back, to be honest she made me laugh so much I wanted to keep her.

 

Today I am just getting Christmas presents put away and the house organised.

Dec 25, 2005 at 23:30 o\clock

A Christmas Miracle..

So its Christmas Eve, I am lying in bed at 5pm for a wee pre festive nap, my bed head is directly beneath my window and in my light slumber I can hear…tap tap tap tap…what the hell is going on? Who is hammering in the back car park on fucking Christmas Eve?

 

So I finally get up and drag my knees onto my pillows, pull open the curtain and look into the circular car park at the back of my house. I am four floors up and have a great panoramic view of the whole grounds.

 

There between parked cars is one tall guy clapping his hands and stamping his feet and five other well built dark haired guys dancing some Spanish Flamenco type moves, with twirls and short cracking heel movements.

 

I thought to myself ‘What the fuck?’ and called on my daughter to come see in case I was having a pre menopausal flush hallucination or something.

She leaned onto my bed lifted up the curtains and gaped at the dancing men below.

 

I mean this is Glasgow…we expect glue sniffers and junkies not the fucking Jets and the Sharks to be having a dance off beside my blue Renault. You always see dance movies where people burst into dance moves and skip round cars…but you don’t expect it to actually happen…only in my life guys!

 

So I opened my window and shouted down to them “Well done”.

 

They all stopped looked up at my face from four floors away and smiled “Come down” they shouted.

 

“I can’t its cold” I laughed and shook my head.

 

Immediately they all started to take off their coats to offer me warmth (how cute!).

 

“No, ok I will come down” I shut the window and pulled off my pyjama top and put on bra (I didn’t want to scare them) and some warm clothes.

 

When I got down into the car park and they saw me close up they put their jackets back on (I kid you not, from a distance I look ok, close up Rapunzel turned into repulsive!).

 

They told me they were Spanish dancer (that figured) they are rehearsing for a show in Paris next week and cannot rehearse in a flat as the noise makes other Glaswegians want to stab them, so the best place is the car park!

I stood and watched and took some pictures, here is a link to them

 

 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/janeygodley/

 

So today I awoke to 27 text messages wishing me a Merry Christmas, I was so tired and so not ready to eat turkey or do any that stuff. I am not a good cook but I have to tell you all, I managed to make a full on traditional turkey dinner complete with warm cranberry sauce, apricot stuffed turkey, honey roasted parsnips and wild berry panacotta….Marks and Spencer’s really do good ready to heat meals.

Have fun all…am off to watch young hot Spaniards dance in the fog beside my car.

Dec 24, 2005 at 17:53 o\clock

Christmas is what??

I realised today as I struggled through the city centre and into Marks and Spencer’s to do some food shopping that Christmas is a bit fake. Now before you think I am about to launch into a ‘bah humbug’ situation hear me out ok? My reasoning for this opinion is quite easy, in the shops there was absolutely no seasonal cheer, people were almost punching pensioners to get the last batch of honey glazed parsnips (like roasting fresh ones with a dash of honey was so fucking difficult?). The second point I want to make is that there were so many goods on sale that helped the public ‘Create the ambience of Christmas’. Now here’s the rub, has anyone reading this EVER walked into a home in the last thirty years and been greeted by the smell of roasting chestnuts, fresh pine cones, aromatic spices mixed with the tangy fragrance of mistletoe, home baked mincemeat pies or logs crackling on an open fire? I think the answer is NO…well not me anyhow. All my Christmases from at least aged four that I recall had the smell of debt ridden parents trying to smoke them selves to death over the stench of cheap beer and burnt chicken. In the background were four unruly kids snapping each other with elastic bands to see who could get the last tangerine whilst a mangy dog ripped the last piece of foil from a greasy roasting tin as he licked the hardened chicken fat. Yet in Marks and Spencer’s you can buy a room ‘fragrance’ of ‘Spicy Holly and Fresh Christmas Berries’ …why? I have never smelt that in my life? It means nothing to me and reminds me of the cheap air fresheners that permeate every fancy hotel elevator that I have had the unfortunate occasion to sniff and choke on. Yet we are told that we aren’t really taking part unless we peel apples and soak them in mulled wine and offer the hot fruity drinks to our friendly neighbours who come round in hand knitted jumpers and cheery rosy cheeks! My neighbours are mostly Muslim and have pissed off to Oman for the Holidays and some have even gone to Palestine; one or two of the other people in the street spat racist comments and called them heathens as they packed up a huge car with kids and boxes as they flew out of Glasgow. How ironic, as my neighbours were actually going to the place Christ was apparently born! I bet there is no smell of pine cones there, but the smell of fighting and gunfire will always be associated with Christmas to the wee kids that live in that city. Merry Christmas one and all.

Dec 23, 2005 at 17:58 o\clock

Nigerian Scam

Hello Dear Bloggers here is a genuine correspondence between me and some dude calling himself Doctor Steven Igho, it’s a Nigerian scam letter but I got bored and answered it, here is the replies. My writing is in RED and bold. If you cannot see the red or bold go to www.janeygodley.co.uk and click on latest blog and check it out there! -----Original Message----- From: Steven Igho [mailto:stevenigho@egyptdentists.com] Sent: 20 December 2005 22:17 To: pairdentistry@suwaneedental.com Subject: Kindly assist. From: Dr. Steven Igho. I too am a docktor Dear Friend, Yes we are friends… My Compliment to you, yes tell me more I lick it when you talk sexy, I fink we are destined to be together, do you like fire? I guess this letter may come to you as a surprise since I had no previous correspondence with you. No not at all, I always get letters from unusually familiar Nigerian folks bring it on big guy I am sending you this mail on behalf of the tender board of Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) Chairman, MR. ABEL D.GUOBADIA. Really? What a fucking surprise? Wow I must be really important that you wrote me! We came across your contact in our search for a reliable person me reliable? I have been in prison for possessing guns…you really don’t know me do you? person to handle a very confidential transaction involving the transfer of Eighteen Million, Five Hundred and Seventy Thousand United States Dollars (US$18.570m). Wow you have that kind of money and you need my help? Get over here sexy! Can we marry? How can I help? The above fund is not connected with arms, drugs or money laundering, My money is…fuck I love selling crack and arms…well we call them limbs here in Scotland it is the product of an over invoiced contract awarded in 2003 by INEC Sure whatever…carry on tell me more I am so interested to a foreign company for the construction of high rise estate in the federal capital territory. This is odd, as this has happened to FOURTEEN other people who have emailed me from Nigeria…how odd is that? The contract has long been executed and payment of the actual contract amount has been paid to the foreign contractor. Yes I believe that…I also know that the IRA talk to me through my toaster and there is a hedgehog called Tammy who used to be Neil Armstrong, he lives on my roof The balance of the actual contract, which my colleague and I now want to transfer out of Nigeria into a reliable foreign account for our personal use. Yes use me…I will look after your money…send me your account details now dusky boy As civil servants we are not allowed to run foreign accounts. Really??... What a cunt? Hence we have chosen you to front and support us as the beneficiary to be paid. Whoopee?? Me???If you are interested in the proposal kindly get back to me by sending me your letter of acceptance along with your direct telephone and fax numbers. For your support and partnership, please reply me to negotiate your fees or the percentage you wish to be paid when the funds are transferred into your bank account. Can I get paid in biscuits? Further details about this transaction will be discussed in the subsequent correspondence. Note also that the particular nature of your business is irrelevant to this transaction and all local contacts and arrangements are in place for a smooth and successful conclusion of this transaction. Yes I understand coz I am special Be informed that we are aware of the way email proposals of this type are being sent from this part of africa. Regarding this email, you should treat this proposal with utmost attentionas knowing fully well that you cannot and will not be compelled to assist us if you are not disposed to. I am treating it as a proposal, I want to marry you, I marry lots of men from Nigeria, but they all died now and am so lonely…they died by fire…all of them. I will be in United Kingdom on official assignment probably in a week time, Lets meet up; I have one eye and piss myself a lot. You may contact me on this Fax: +44-709-287-3843 or via this email account steven_igho1@yahoo.co.uk, forward me with your contact telephone and fax numbers on response, I will call you for a discussion. Thank you as I await your response. My name is Mangofandango, I live in a seashell and like to lick small penguins, please be my friend? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Steven Igho [mailto:steven_igho1@yahoo.co.uk] Sent: 22 December 2005 06:56 To: Janey Godley Subject: Re: Fake letters from Nigeria...I answered it...my way YOU'RE VERY FUNNY I LIKE IT...................GOOD ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Janey Godley wrote: I am glad you liked it Dr Steven, I don’t like it and posted it to my entire address book and read it out on stage and have mentioned it in the media. What kind of doctor are you? One of female circumcision or one of small cattle prodding perhaps? Now from all of that you must know that we know its all shit, you are not even Nigerian…Russian perhaps?? We thought that from the investigations we did. Stop sending me your pleady shit; I have a life to lead and so must you. Go bother someone else. Janey ________________________________________ From: Steven Igho [mailto:steven_igho1@yahoo.co.uk] Sent: 22 December 2005 15:17 To: Janey Godley Subject: RE: . Fake letters from Nigeria...I answered it...my way DONT EVER WRITE ME AGAIN, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? Janey Godley wrote: Dr. Steven Igho. I think you will find YOU wrote to me skanky boy…not the other way round…you established this relationship, your scam has been spread all over the media…MY FAULT??? I don’t think so, be very careful who you send spam scam to mate…be careful what you wish for. THAT IS MY PROBLEM…whats wrong? You have no sense of Humour Dr Steven? You were hoping I was a mental patient and would send you my bank details? Go fuck yourself and try to find someone else to annoy. I like biscuits and am posting this on my blog sites that gets around 7000 hits a day and is syndicated to 60 sites. Bite my ass! So far there has been no answer my blogger friends, but I urge you all to ignore these letters if you get them as the people may be dangerous and nuts enough to come look for you, but let’s be honest here, how many banks in Nigeria are with holding important people’s cash? NONE! Have fun! Janey

Dec 22, 2005 at 16:40 o\clock

Am Home for Christmas!

Yes… I am back. The gig went fantastic at Cochrane Theatre, nice people turned up, people who had read my book, blog or newspaper articles. I had decided on a surprise start to the show, I came on dancing to Madonna’s latest single, except I am old and nearly broke a hip bone trying to impersonate a 48 year old woman…get that? Go figure? Madonna does three hours exercise a day and lives on a macrobiotic diet, I lose my breath climbing stairs and live on Pot Noodles and chocolate, that’s why it didn’t work well, but people laughed and that’s my point. The whole show was taped on mini disc so I may learn top podcast and let you all hear it soon. I was so happy to see people there who have come to see me before, except I cant believe these people come and see me often, trust me if you can imagine what my following would be like, its not a lovely Middle Class, Middle England family with three kids who are all lovely and well fed and mild mannered YET that is who comes to see me…I know because there is a nice family who come to see me in Edinburgh, Soho Theatre and Cochrane Theatre! I know they are reading this so THANKS but fucksake WHY? Don’t stop coming to see me…I just can’t figure out why…but I am so grateful. You are nice people; maybe you like to hear me swearing???? I was on stage last night at Glasgow Jongleurs, the crowd was heaving and they love a good Christmas party in Glasgow. Tonight is back onstage at Jongleurs…sorry I am blogging way too late but do keep coming back, I promise no more swearing…but I will always fight authority!

Dec 20, 2005 at 17:12 o\clock

Today is the Day

I am up and ready for my big show tonight at Cochrane Theatre, I am worried a bit as I don’t ever seem to have a format for my show and it’s a big two hour show! I have had period pains and horrid stomach problems but I am good to go.

Last night was good fun, I went to the 606 jazz club in Chelsea and the music was amazing! The old guy from the Average White Band was on stage and afterwards he came over for a quick chat, turns out he is from Glasgow and he asked me “Where are you from?”

 

“The Calton in Glasgow” I replied.

“The Calton? Tongs Ya Bass!” he laughed.

 

Now that made me laugh out loud, as Tongs Ya Bass, is the gang war cry from the Calton, my part of the East end of Glasgow! It was really funny to hear this older man say it out loud in Chelsea! Especially after he had been playing the most sensuous slow jazz!

 

My life is good, I got to hear great music again and last week of course I heard Courtney Pine and Roachford play in a studio at BBC…I am so lucky.
I am a bit stressed today and complained to husband for breathing loudly…that’s not a good sign this early in the day.

We leave tomorrow at 10am as I have a show in Glasgow tomorrow night, I cannot even begin to worry about packing, and that usually stresses me no end, but I will manage, I am so relieved that the people at Crown Lawn gave me this apartment, I owe them so much I may have to donate my eggs to them. Thanks all you people at Crown Lawn for the amazing stay; I am in your debt. Normally I have to stay in shitty smelly hotels, but a marble palace with an indoor swimming pool? I am a princess! The Christmas tree downstairs in the reception hall is beautiful and cheered me up every time I walked into this building.

I will try to write more tonight after the show and we can see how it all went, if it was shit I will tell you all trust me…the truth is always here with Godley.

Dec 19, 2005 at 03:16 o\clock

Sexy Headaches and radio shows

Today has been good fun so far. I had a great gig last night at Edcomedy up in Foresthill. Lovely wee room and run by good people, the only problem is I had the start of my legendary ‘only in London’ migraine that lasted all night and most of today. Today was good publicity wise, I got a great mention in the Guardian Guide as the pick of the month comedy for my show at Cochrane Theatre on Tuesday night and today on Open Book Radio 4 my autobiography ‘Handstands in the Dark’ was mentioned on the list of ‘Best books of the Year’, then tonight on Channel 4 I was on ‘The 100 Greatest Christmas Moments’…so all in all it was good!

 

All that stuff is good. The weird thing is when I saw my fat face on TV I recall thinking at the time that my hair was nice but wow it looked fucking horrible! Why is that? It’s the same when you look back on old photo’s from the 1980’s, I thought I was terribly sexy but now I see a strange woman in a tight red dress with packed footballers shoulders, wearing a sharp red pillbox hat teetering about in black stiletto’s…what was I thinking? Joan Collins of Glasgow?

 

I went to see my husband’s lovely old aunty Nellie today; she is 93 years old and lives near London though she is 100% Glaswegian. It was so very funny, she has reached an age where being diplomatic means zilch, that combined with a history of ‘Who gives a fuck what I think’ mixed with a small does of forgetfulness and the results are near legendary.

 When she saw me her first words were “Your fat, do you know that you are fat and by fuck you’re old as well”.

I laughed loudly at this as she meant it and I loved her sharpness, I had mates calling me to say that they had just heard my book being praised on the radio and in the background aunty Nelly was shouting (she is deaf) “You would think you would stop eating and maybe run a comb through that messy hair”…my mates were pissing themselves laughing, so if at any point all this publicity goes to my head aunty Nellie will be there to remind me of my life time of failure in the weight and hair department! Classic!

 

Tomorrow I am up early to get everything ready for Tuesdays show, I need to sit down and work out what I am doing as it’s a two hour one woman show, to be honest I kinda wing it most of the way, but I need to prepare some stuff I suppose.

 

I also want you people to know that I do get your comments, but as my blog is syndicated to nearly 40 different blog sites, it isn’t easy to collect your comments as  I have blogsites that don’t have ‘comments alerts’ on them and so I have to actively go through every site that I belong to and search for your comments to reply to them. So please don’t think I am ignoring you. If you ever want to contact me you can email me at janey@janeygodley.co.uk

Have a good night all!

 

Dec 16, 2005 at 23:57 o\clock

Spies and Strange Men in suits

Its been an odd day all round, I was standing at the bus stop outside the Home Office down near my flat at Marsham Street, waiting patiently on a bus. I heard a small commotion behind me and on the grass verge outside of the Home Office; a big black man had erected a small tent, and put up peace protest notice stating that he was being harassed by the Government. I stopped to read his notice and immediately police starting mounting the grass and pulled his tent apart. The big man started shouting and I reached for my mobile phone and started taking photo’s on my camera (Which I will post soon).

 

Before I could even get saving them to file a few men in suits surrounded me out from nowhere! I am not joking; it was sinister to say the least. I watched as the police got the big black guy to the ground and started moving him along the grass towards the police van. I pulled out a piece of paper and shouted to the black guy “What’s your name?” he looked at me and shouted “Fredrick Kamera”. “Is that with a K, I asked?”

The man was now on the ground with the policemen on top of him and he yelled back “Yes”.

 

Just then, a very handsome guy in a sharp grey suit and bright yellow tie appeared at my side, he touched my arm to get my attention, I turned and he made serious eye contact “You cant take pictures of the Home Office, its against the law” He smiled and leaned towards me “Can I see your phone?”

“No fuck off, if you try to take it I will scream, take your hands off me and quit with the charm, I will stop taking photos of the office building but I will continue to take photo’s of the dude who now has a police man standing on his neck” I sneered. I ran around to the other side and kept taking pictures, it was making the men very uncomfortable.

 

“What’s your name and who are you from, you know you need to stop shouting to that man and you need to stop this behaviour” Yellow tie smiley boy said.

“Fuck off, make me” I challenged him “This is a city that wont recognise Scottish Sterling as legal tender and you are telling me I have to shut up and stop being me, I have freedom of speech, what will you do? Stab my arse with a poisoned umbrella on Waterloo Bridge? You are the smallest James Bond ever, now get fucked mate or those builders across the road will witness you harassing me”

 

By now they were dragging Fredrick Kamera into a waiting police van. I watched and the suited man spoke again “Do you have a website?”

“Yes…why?” I asked.

“What’s it called? He continued. By now the place was crawling with office workers leaving the building who were now casually watching the fracas.

“I am not telling you shit, there will be forty cameras on me now, you look at them and work out who I am and do your job” I snapped. The black man was now in the police van and huckled away, no trace of him being on the grass existed.

 

“Its best if you just stop being a nuisance and move on now, that man had mental problems” the tiny James Bond spoke.

“What would happen if Jesus turned up here and stood on that ground and tried to tell the world he was here to save everyone and was appalled at the way people were treated, would you stand on his neck and throw him in a police van? You people say everyone is mentally retarded who speak out” I said.

“So you are a Christian?” he asked me.

“No I am not, I am just making a point you annoying man, look there is my bus” I ran off and caught the bus into town.

 

I had meetings and friends to catch up with and things to do all day…but if I suddenly drop off the radar and no longer blog…then you know what will have happened to me…the old syringe in the neck trick!

I will post the pics as soon as I work out how or go http://janeygodley.bravejournal.com/

Dec 14, 2005 at 22:34 o\clock

Near Death in Soho

I have had such fun in London so far, had good meetings with TV people, and had a great gig last night at Comedy Camp, got to meet up with Jay who is an old mate…and shopping eating and fun.

Yesterday I was at BBC television centre pitching a sketch show and screenplay. I got out at White City and was amazed to find that there is no bar or café local to the station, so people going to BBC for meeting etc…cant have a sit down or anything before they go. There are a few upmarket coffee places across the road and up to the new BBC centre which is not far but hardly near enough, so I thought about ditching the TV idea and buying a bar! Hold on…did that before for 15 years, why do I keep going back to that idea?

 

Last night coming home (did I just call the luxury apartment home...I wish) from Comedy Camp on the 88 bus through Westminster, Clare Short the politician got on, I stood up to give her my seat and she said “Its not necessary” I smiled and said ‘Listen you are an old burd and I am off at the next stop” she wasn’t that happy, but I was too busy listening to Doobie Brothers on the IPOD to care.

 

So today after another meeting with lovely telly person about various projects, I made my way to Bar Italia in Frith street, its my favourite coffee house in all of London Town. The whole shop front is covered in scaffolding, the building is being renovated.

After a good hot latte, I stood up and plugged in my earphones so that Steely Dan could carry me through Soho, when debris and lumps of masonry from above came crashing down on my head. It was fucking sore; the café manageress came out and was helpful in dusting me down and checking I wasn’t bleeding. She got the building manager to come to see me…this is where the fun began.

 

Now any man who wears jogging bottoms and shiny smooth loafers, with a Union Jack Jumper stretched to the limits over the big fat belly and a deep Cockney Accent with a slight lisp has got to be funny when your skull is sore. It was like trying to listen to verbal Sudoku!

 

He asked me where I was from.

 “Glasgow” I replied whilst rubbing my scalp.

“Where about in Glasgow?” he mumbled, “east end” I said.

 “Yea, we could be family, I am from Clerkenwell” he said.

I looked at him, wondering where this was going.

 “Great” I sniggered “you know mate, where I from means nothing, that building site is unsafe, what are you going to do about it?”

“I know gangster Arthur Thompson” he smiled, as I still waited on the answer to my near skull smashing experience.

“He’s dead; listen mate, my head hurts who owns the building?” I snapped.

“Don’t threaten me” he hissed at me in his twisted strong cockney accent. It was like being harassed by a badly dressed Kray Brother.

“Ok, you need to stop the whole jellied eels, oi oi oi thing and tell me who I am supposed to call about this”

The upshot was he gave me the wrong phone number for Soho Estates who own the building; luckily I have the internet and called them direct.

 

I then spoke to the poshest man in the whole wide world, he apologised and urged me to go to hospital and reassured me they would do anything possible to help, but in fact they own the property but the sub contractor is responsible for the scaffolding and safety issues. I doubt that very much, ultimately it is the responsibility of the people who hire the people of the safety of the site…but in any case, I am not badly injured and am not suing.

 

So it is true I am the epicentre of disaster…maybe I will get a free coffee from Bar Italia?

 

 

Dec 12, 2005 at 00:07 o\clock

London fights and fun part two…

Well it’s now Sunday, I am exhausted as when I landed in London on Friday, I literally hit the ground running and finally I can breathe!

After Ashley and I did the photo shoot and interview with the lovely man from the Sunday Times (we are the Magazine’s ‘Relative Values’ subjects) we went across to the local Soho newsagent for some bits and pieces, after we presented our purchases, he REFUSED to take our Scottish money…for people outside UK reading this let me explain.

 

Britain use a currency called sterling or British Pound if you want the loose terminology for it. In Scotland we have our own design of Sterling/British pound and it’s just a different design, not a different monetary value, we are British.

 

 Some English cities mainly London do have shops and services that refuse Scottish ‘money’ on the grounds’ we may have printed it out of a computer and coloured it in with ink markers or something…I suppose they assume it’s fake.

 

Anyway, the man refused and I got annoyed and called the police, they explained that the man can refuse to take it and I said to the police person

 “So if I walk out of this shop with the goods and leave him the ten pounds sterling, then I would be arrested for shoplifting?”

 

She said “Yes, if you take goods and don’t pay thats illegal”

 

I added, “But I am paying with sterling, so how can that be, he has my legal British money and I have goods”

 

She then told me “ Get off the line, I have better things to worry about”

 

“Like what?” I asked.

 

“Terrorism and bombs” she snapped at me.

 

“That’s better? Don’t you mean you have more important things to worry about? For someone who is English, you would think you would have a better grasp of your own language and grammar”

 

She hung up.

 

We walked out of the shop, I wasn’t going to give him any cash if he wouldn’t take my Scottish cash.

 

First night in London….

Next morning I was off to BBC to be part of Loose Ends, the lovable Ned Sherrin’s show. It was so awesome, I got to sit in a studio and listen to Courtney Pine and Roachford (two of the worlds best musicians) play just for me…well me and the other seven people in the room…oh and the millions who listen in ever week to Ned’s show.

 

By the way you can go to this link and listen to the show I was on.

 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/comedy/looseends.shtml

 

Then click ‘listen to latest edition’

 

Later on that night I was off to Battersea to be on stand by at Jongleurs comedy club, it means I sit around and see if an act fails to make it due to doubling up on other gigs, then I go on stage there or any one of the London Jongleurs and fill in. Its good fun and you get paid whether you gig or not!

 

This morning (Sunday, British ‘Sterling’ time) I awoke, knowing I did not have to work today, hurrah! Lazy day for me and my best mate Monica came round to see me, we had a good chat and then husband took our daughter to Heathrow as she goes home today.

 

I will miss her, but she really is a grumpy evil mare in the mornings, she turns into some awful snappy fire breathing dragon and poor husband always forgets that and will mistakenly ask her a simple question or make a silly remark as he passes her in the hallway as she stumbles about with her cloven hooves, clawed mitts and red slitty eyes that seem to be the norm if she is awoken before midday!

 

“Good morning happy girl” he smiles, forgetting she is possessed.

 

She turns her head, the hair flaps wildly, she opens her mouth and fiery evil flames come shooting out in his direction, I fully expect him to come back into the bedroom with blackened hair and singed eyebrows as the dragon child flaps her fleshy sharp backwings, draws in her blood sharpened claws and goes hobbling awkwardly on her stumpy hooves back into her room, leaving a trail of black smoke and burnt daddy in her wake.

 

I won’t miss that!

 

 

Dec 10, 2005 at 15:58 o\clock

British Airways and Comedy pitching….Friday the dark day…

So we were all packed last night to go to London, just some small bits and bobs to go in last minute. I fell asleep knowing that I had to get up at 8am to have a shower and get ready for 10.30am flight from Glasgow to London.

I was in a lovely deep sleep, when my mobile registered two text messages at 5am! I stumbled out of bed and with bleary annoyed eyes I read them. Both were the same message from British Airways telling me that my flight had been CANCELLED!

I screamed! I had to get to London for midday as Ashley and I had to do a photo shoot and interview with the Sunday Times, I had work in London and meetings…fucking what do they mean cancelled????

Husband had been up all night and I ran into the living room hysterical yelling “BA has cancelled the flights!”

He jumped into action and got me the flight documents, I called at 5.07am and was greeted by an automated voice telling me the company doesn’t open till 6am…well who the fuck sent me the text then?

I sat and waited till 6am struck the clock and I promptly dialled up, EVENTUALLY I was put through to someone who told me the only way I would get to London today was to get to the airport NOW and be on the 7am flight as fog had backlogged most of the flights.

Daughter was dragged out of a sleep, husband began throwing stuff into the case, and Ashley was wandering about the hall in her pyjamas trying to find shoes with mascara’d stuck eyelashes and bewilderment.

Finally we were dressed and out the door into a cab at 6.20am!

At the airport we made the check in on time, we were ushered up to the Club Class lounge…finally we breathed and sat down. Then were told to quickly board the plane as the 7am flight was ready to go.

We found our seats, sat down and waited…and waited and the flight was so delayed it never actually took off until 10am! Yes three hours on a fucking domestic flight sat on a runway in Glasgow.

I thought I was going to take the pilot hostage and start killing the women and children first. Ashley…meanwhile, who HATES mornings, had turned into Myra Hydley/Ted Bundy/cloven hoofed spawn of the devil. She snapped and bitched, the crew had NO drinks on board, so I argued and argued until they let me off the plane that was NEVER going to move for 3 whole hours to go get some cold drinks.

The good news is, I spotted Gary who used to be a producer of comedy for BBC and now works for Endemol, sitting up the back. I went up to see him and after three minutes telling him what I am up to and stuff Ashley and I pitched our sketch show right there on the plane in front of a bunch of strangers, ok bored strangers. Gary responded well to our idea and we have a meeting arranged for next week! Never an opportunity wasted with eth Godley /Storrie girls.

We eventually got moving and soon London was near!

Finally after 5 hours of travel/non travel, we were back in the city of Westminster, back to the most luxurious flat for a Scottish girl this side of Sheena Easton!

I have to say, stepping into that under floor heated en suite marble bathroom was divine.

I love this place and have decided this is how I should live forever.

The stress was not over…not be a long chalk!

Part two tomorrow or later on as this is posted a day late.

Dec 9, 2005 at 00:58 o\clock

Photo Shoot and TV…

I had to get up early and get dressed, suited and lipsticked all ready for the STV recording for the Hogmanay Show. I was to comment on various Scottish news headlines that occurred in 2005. The venue was Hampden Football Park, I was almost late and panicked slightly, but they got me straight in and quickly seated in front of the camera. I was quietly horrified because just as I had got ready to leave the car; I spotted this bushy black mouser on my top lip, HOLY FUCK! My brother wasn’t actually joking when he ribbed me about having a moustache when I had visited him last Saturday. The camera man asked me was I ready and I blurted out “Excuse me can you see my moustache on camera, honestly I saw it moments ago in the car and I am so paranoid!” “No you can’t see it Janey” he laughed.( I would have preferred him to say it wasn’t actually there!) I was totally sweating beneath the strong lights with the football museum displays behind me, I spotted an ancient picture on the wall behind the interviewer and it was one of those football legends from the 1920’s and he was sporting a full handlebar job and I slowly thought “That’s what I am growing, a fuck off Lee Van Cleef job” The interview went well, I managed to be funny on demand (well I hope it was funny, they laughed…maybe at my moustache come to think of it). If that wasn’t a bad enough experience, the camera man for the Glasgow Herald turned up immediately after the filming (no time to run to shop, buy cheap razor and shave in a toilet). I quickly asked my husband if he could see my moustache and he looked very closely and said “It’s not a proper moustache, when did you start growing that?” His face was all distorted and disgusted, like he had just seen it for the first time and now wanted a divorce from the strange man/woman he was married to. I was having photos taken for the article that is going in the Glasgow Herald piece that is running next Tuesday regarding my prison comedy and how other comics have worked in prisons. The photographer had me in a pair of handcuffs that I supplied (they were remnants of the gun and explosives haul at my father in laws house in 1994, the police missed the cuffs!) Anyway before long he had me driven up to Barlinnie High Security Prison for more pictures. So there I was in the freezing cold, in a pair of handcuffs with a scary prison in the background, smiling as my moustache trailed in the cold wind, like bicycle streamers flapping from under my red drippy nose….cant wait to see the pictures! Today was filled with me getting packed and ready to go to London, I cannot believe the amount of stuff I have to take, I am nervous as Ashley and I go straight from the flight and straight into an interview with the Sunday Times. We are the Relative Value subjects. So finally here is the good news… My book is being reprinted As it has actually sold out and there is now a waiting list for it! I am so chuffed like you cannot believe! What a lovely Christmas gift for me…maybe I can afford wax strips for my bushy tash?

Dec 7, 2005 at 23:30 o\clock

Happy Christmas, from Janey Godley

Dec 7, 2005 at 01:52 o\clock

Dentists and Journalists….

I was at the dentists this morning, he seemed pleased to see me and always laughs as I come in and then pin myself to a wall and scream!

I pretend to be scared but honestly I really am, but as you hit 40, you really have to stop being silly.

He is taking out the black amalgam fillings at the back, creating two crowns, fitting six veneers and whitening the bottom teeth. A big fucking job, I think it may be cheaper if I just paint tipex on my yellowed old choppers.

The drilling went of for hours, I am sure he eventually reached my eye socket when he stopped. I managed to swear loudly even with my mouth fully dilated.

I left the dentists and staggered home all floppy mouthed and numb when my mobile rang, it was a journalist asking me to talk about the day John Lennon died for a feature she is doing. I could hardly talk and I think I said stuff about me burning a Christmas cake as the news hit my wee newly wed kitchen back in 1980….it wasn’t till later I re thought what I had told her and blushed a bit…A fucking Christmas cake? John Lennon dies and I fail to bake?? What the fuck was going through my head? Probably a drill had penetrated it and gave me frontal lobotomy.

I am off tomorrow to do a piece to camera for STV regarding the countdown for the year on the Hogmanay show; I am hoping my brain is ok for the job.

I have finally compiled a list for all the stuff I need to take to London, scripts for the sketch show Ashley and I have written, the film synopsis I have written with a mate, DVD’s of the play and comedy and the mini discs of the shows I have done before. I am trying to be organised.

I have so much to do…best fuck off and do it then!

Dec 6, 2005 at 01:55 o\clock

Glenochil Prison Gig!

What a day! I had to meet up with a journalist to discuss the article they are writing concerning me performing comedy for the lifers at Glenochil prison tonight.

 

But first I had to dash to the docs to show him a new wee lump on my breast, turns out its just a wee cyst and I need to get a new mammogram thingy…whoopee… lucky fucking me…lets get my tits squashed and flattened…my favourite.

 

I then have been booked for the Malcolm Hardee tribute gig in London in February at the Hammersmith theatre, on a huge fuck off star studded bill. I had to move a gig to accommodate it, but I did like Malcolm as he took me to Glastonbury and gave me a gig and had faith in me.

 

I still have problems with the Cochrane theatre which seems to have no record of me on their ticket selling website…not good!

 

Anyway the journo asked me how I felt performing comedy for rapists and murderers, I said “Well, I do a lot of gigs, how do I not know that rapists and killers are sitting in any audience, maybe they have not been caught yet?”

 

“Fair point” he answered.

 

“And, to be honest, they are in prison serving time for their crime and deserve to be treated with dignity” I added.

 

“Are you not scared?” He asked me.

 

 “No, I am from the Calton” I smiled.

 

Getting to the prison was a fucking trauma, all dark and horrid but we got there eventually.

The hall was all set up for the gig as they took me through a whole series of big security doors, with the obligatory barred sliding door.

 

The guys all came in and sat quietly until the prison guard announced me.

 

It immediately struck me that they were all wearing either green or red tops and they cheered as I came on. I still don’t know what the colours mean.

I stood on the wee wooden box they called a stage and looked around the room, there seemed to be more prison guards and police than convicts.

 

I opened with “People worried about me coming here tonight, they were scared you would attack me, but I know you guys wont hurt me when you have all these coppers to beat up…I mean I have never pissed in your tea!”

 

They all cheered and we had great fun. I kept going into areas of comedy which I clearly hadn’t though about…for instance

 “Do you like travelling? No…fuck I forgot, you are in here for while…ok let me tell you about my travels then!”

 

I then did material about how I want to go on TV show ‘Dragons Den’ where millionaires sit in a room with 150 grand in front of them and decide which entrepreneur will be funded.

 

 I said I want to go in there, pull out a gun and shout “Right the fucking lot of you, money in the bag, NOW or I will fucking blast your face off” as soon as I had said that I added “Sorry if that was a wee flash back from your actual crime!” and they all just laughed their asses off!

 

I did some stuff about sex and pain and asked the inevitable question “Anyone here into sex and pain? Or is that a silly question coz you all already jam each others cocks in cell doors? Do you all do that fisting thing in between basket making and painting by numbers?”

 

I am telling you these guys and I laughed like fuck, they knew I kept going into slightly inappropriate subject matter and I ended up giggling and squirming trying to get out of that situation and they were egging me on to say more!

 

I asked them if they had any questions and quickly said “But not asking me on a date as that’s fucked, I will be sitting in some fucked up smelly café for 15 years waiting on you turning up”

 

They all cheered at the end of the show, I was bemused as I recognised at least three faces in that crowd. As I was leaving one big guy looked me right in the eye and said, “Hey, you were funny, I laughed when you used to be Janey Storrie as well, good work!”

 

He did know me, and he had just used my married name which I changed legally to Godley 10 years ago.

 

So I am home and safe, it was good experience and would love to go back and do it again. Check this Wednesday’s Glasgow Herald, that when the article goes in.

Dec 4, 2005 at 19:24 o\clock

Thoughts Shared…

I was thinking today about the woman I met the other night at the Stop the War gig I performed at. Rose Gentle was the mother who was there to talk about the movement of Families against the war.

 

Rose is just an ordinary Glasgow woman but with an extraordinary mission. We sat at the same table as I was about to go on stage and she chatted away to me about just regular stuff. Her son Gordon joined the army at age 19, he got around thirty four weeks training and was promptly sent to Iraq where he died within weeks of being there.

 

She told me “Gordon had joined the Army 6 months before his death.
He signed up for the army when he went to sign on for his benefits.
He was a classical economic conscript.
If he had access to a half decent job, then he and many other young soldiers like him, including another 5 from our local community, would not have considered joining the army.
We now know that Gordon’s life could have been saved if the MOD had provided his regiment with the proper equipment.
2 hours after Gordon’s death, all RHF vehicles were fitted with a piece of equipment called the Bolterman (electronic jamming device).
The Bolterman is designed to jam the remote signal that is used to detonate roadside bombs.
The RHF were the only British battalion in Iraq that did not have the Bolterman fitted to their vehicles.
The Bolterman units were sitting on a shelf in an MOD storeroom!”

 

I was horrified to hear this. I asked how she felt when people posed the question of ‘well he did wear the uniform, he was solider, and soldiers do die in combat’

She composed herself, put out a cigarette and spoke with conviction “Janey, if my son had died trying to stop the weapons of mass destruction from coming over here and killing us, I would have been sad and proud. The fact is, there were NO weapons of mass destruction, my son died for a lie, he died for oil and that’s a fact. There is Iraqi people dying on the streets, there are children being maimed and bombed for a myth. Those innocents don’t deserve to die like that, this is not a war, this is a propaganda machine. I was proud of my son trying to defend his country but I will not support a lie, they need to bring the troops home and stop defending their pretend war”

She told me she was labeled a thorn in Tony Blair’s side and added she wouldn’t rest until she was a thorn in his throat. That made me smile.

This woman, who married, grew up in Glasgow, who once was a cleaner at my daughters school, who worked hard to raise her kids, buy Christmas presents, went holidays was now standing up and facing our elected Prime Minster and all of that executed with ease.

I watched her speaking to the gathered crowd; she was clear, concise and succinct about her subject matter, never once letting the emotion betray her voice, never once nervously mumbling her words.

She was more believable as a public speaker than Tony Blair, I wanted to rally round this woman and fight her cause, and I was roused to the core!

I could only admire her gusto, I have a nineteen year old daughter, I have no idea how I could ever speak again if she were dead. I do know that Rose Gentle is a wee regular Glasgow wifie who will never be far from Tony Blair’s mind.

He will never meet her and avoids her gaze as she stands outside Downing street with placards and as she relentlessly campaigns for the rights of those soldiers in Iraq and to keep the memory alive of Gordon Gentle, a boy who died in a country his mammy never even knew existed till he lay dead on their dirt side roads.

Good on you Rose, take some of that Glasgow grit and make it stick on Blair’s lying face as he defends the decision for those soldiers to spend another year in country where no one knows who the real enemies are, Rose Gentle knows…apparently his name is Tony.

 

www.justice4gordongentle.org

Dec 3, 2005 at 23:22 o\clock

My Home town…

I like going back to Shettleston, I love getting to see my brother, David, he is two years older than me, and easiest the funniest man in the world. We met in a small local bar full of wee old men and football fans of all ages. David kept teasing me saying I had a full moustache going on, I was horrified and decided I need to slip into the toilet just to quickly check I hadn’t turned into Hitler in the short time I had left home. I giggled and decided to pull out my wee black eyeliner and drew a big curly moustache under my nose that curled up round my cheeks, it was really comical looking in the mirror in the loo. I then slammed open the toilet door that led into the bar, I threw my arms open and shouted “YMCA” as I pointed to my funny face. My brother wasn’t there, but his teenage son was, the poor boy just stared at me, the locals displayed faces of concern and my big nephew just looked at me as if to say “My auntie draws on her own face”. Just then David came out of the gent’s loo and laughed his ass off and then when I told him I came out with a big entrance and he wasn’t there we pissed ourselves laughing. You had to be there I know…but funny as fuck. He makes me laugh like no one else, I wish he did comedy, he would be a star! I got a cab home and watched Shettleston fade behind me, the streets I grew up in, the church I got married in, the bar I met my husband in, the place my mammy met her murderer….My home town.