The List staff have locked me in the attic. I don't blame them, I've got the right arsehole today. I overdid it at the weekend. Some bloke nearly got a slap off me on Saturday. Luckily, I was held back by Glasgow's King of Clowns, Gregor. When the only thing between me and a night in the cells is Gregor, the attic is the best place for me.
Anyway, I am going to change the title of the blog. I'm calling it ...with Alan Cumming. I'm getting all pictures of the geezer who played Nightcrawler in X-Men II doing stuff that rhymes with his name. Got a picture of him with his lips together (Humming...), whacking on a timpani (Drumming...), playing guitar (Strumming...) and a photoshop with his face on a porn star (Have a Fucking Guess...). The hits will go through the roof.
I saw that Mouse by Daniel Kitson last night. You know, him used to be off Phoenix Nights. Doesn't do press. The most powerful dramaturgical mind in British theatre. That guy. Yeah.
Turns out life is wretched and then you die alone. Cheers for that, mate.
Hang on, I just need to pour myself some more Dr Pepper. They might have locked me away, but they have given me a big bottle of sugary pop. I've got some Blue Riband bars, too.
I might have eaten all of them.
Oh, sorry - I thought it was The Edinburgh Comedy Festival? It's not? There's other stuff on, apart from the blokes on the posters who seem to be asking me to punch them? Is it possible to be in August in Edinburgh and not do a little comedy routine?
Time to get back to the photoshop. I have a picture of Alan Cumming talking to some poor people (Slumming...)...
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