A man came round this morning to help me sort out debt things. I won’t go into it as while its ultimately a good thing this blog is not about money misery and I don’t want you to revel in the thoughts of Barclaycard making me give them fingers or knees as a last resort repayment option. I wouldn’t want to lose either of these things as I quite like both my fingers and knees. Its a shame they didn’t ask for my appendix as it is only useful to me when imitating a rabbit as accurately as possible.I would like to stress that it is rare I have to do such impressions but you never know. I would happily put said rabbit moments to one side if Barclaycard would accept my appendix. ‘If you don’t want to mention this Tiernan then why are you?’ I hear you cry. Well, once again I would ask you not to cry, unless you are peeling onions as you read or have perhaps seen a particularly sad accident in your peripheral vision as you look at the webpage. The reason, as there is always a reason, is that the very nice man who came round asked me what my job was. I was completely honest and told him the nature of my comedy living, to which he replied that his best friend’s son is also a stand-up of whom I have heard. While it was lovely and led him to understand the madness of my money situation a little better, it is also the umpteen billionth time I have met someone who also knows a comedian in the last few weeks. That, by the way, is an exact number. What this means, I have realised, is that either there are far too many comedians in the world, or that a series of people are saying they do comedy when they do not. I’m not sure why you would want to pretend to have this job as to really make people believe you are a stand-up you’d have to spend a good amount of time driving up and down motorways and it would be more than a little awkward when people ask you to tell some jokes. Saying that, its more than a little awkward when people ask me to tell them a joke anyway. Although it could mean I’m not a proper comedian and I’m merely lying. If this is true then points must be given for the extent I have taken that lie, including actually gigging and making sure I don’t receive most payments for doing so until months afterwards. I’m a pretty good liar.
If there are, as the other theory suggests, too many comics, then my fear is that numbers will continue to rise until there are more comics than society can sustain and the environment will be irreparably damaged. The world will be in desperate need of people who can do actual jobs such as plumbing or clever things and instead they will have an overwhelming amount of people who can make jokes about plumbing or clever things. A rather horrifying image I think you’ll agree. On the plus side, while the world is collapsing and falling apart, we will all be able to laugh about it. This will of course upset all the emos, but they like being upset so it sort of works out for them too. I’m starting to bring myself round to liking this idea. Maybe I will make myself king, who by default, will also be his own court jester. If all of this scares you then next time you see a comedian, kill them. That’s the only way to avoid such terrors. Oh dear this is clearly what happens when I get up too early.
I got round to watching Derren Brown’s ‘How To Be A Psychic Spy’ last night on the old 4oD. It’s not old really, otherwise I’d be watching hieroglyphics of it on a parchment, which I can’t imagine would be as good. For a start you’d know what the hidden shape was purely by reading further down on the scroll, which would be cheating. Anyway, once again the man made my head hurt, although I felt pleased to possibly work out that the public at the museum had drawn circles maybe because of all the subliminal circle shapes around the area they were in (ie on the wall behind the picture and on the railings behind Derren). Either way though he once again proved he is clearly evil. I did spend a large portion of last night wondering what it would be like to be a psychic spy and how much fun it would be seeing stuff through other people’s eyes. I found myself on some sites like Askyourguide very late last night, my overly tired self, attempting to believe that I could be such a spy. I would spend a lot of time watching films I didn’t have to pay for as that would be ace. I clearly don’t have the ability to do such things as my guess at the hidden picture was a dragon with the second guess being a man who lived in a shoe and only his head could be seen. All these thoughts may well have been tainted by the vast amount of food I ate at Layla’s parents house though as well as the booze and cake that made me a bit dizzy. On reflection I’d do much better as an anti-caking agent, if only to make myself avoid such consequences.
