Locked Up Til Lunch Mi Amigos!

What's that? You had porridge for breakfast too and so are buzzing like a bee that found a flower on steroids and then ate all the nectar and went to the gym because of all the energy from the nectar and is now the size of a house and eaiting cows instead of nectar and so is even more enegetic?


Me too!!!


I'm going through a bit of a weird week where I've literally not been home unless it's between the hours of 11:30pm and 8:15am... as such I have not been able to purchase anything resembling food, let alone breakfast... so far this week I've lived off a diet that would make Gillian McKeith's face even sourer than it usually is. She'd probably want to remove all of the poop from my body and put her own in for the best chance of saving me. I'd refuse naturally. Actually, she'd be dead this point because if she tried to keep me from the table of glory showing the obese guide to the horn of plenty then I'd eat her on my way to the Jammie Dodgers.

But the point is that I am pretty much 84% bacon flavour real McCoys at the moment. These turned out to be a sound investment because the crinkly buggers repeat on you for hours after you actually eat them and so you feel like you're eating them all day. Re-sult.

However, this morning when I was scanning my cupboard and wondering whether I'd reached the point where it was ok to just break off some MDF and suck it until it was chewable, I saw lurking in the back some porridge oats. Yum. Now, I hate porridge and I have a vague memory of my mother giving me this porridge when I moved to London (January 2010) but I figured, what's the worst that can happen? Incidentally, the more I write in this blog the more it becomes absolutely crystal clear why my digestive system has had a worse deal than public sector pensioners...


I ate the porridge. Yep, yes I did. I wish, when I was about 5 and I was being forced to eat stuff I didn't want through guilt tripping about starving kids in Africa, someone had been around to tell me that when I was in my mid 20s I would be writing formulas for bread to mould ratio to see whether it was still acceptable to chow down on age old Hovis. It would certainly have alleviated some teenage angst about wanting to hurl when faced with brussell sprouts.

The porridge seems to be doing good things for me! I am spritely (despite a growing worry that my walk to work has given me trenchfoot), I am efficient and I have faith that when I go to Tesco tonight with my one night off this week, I will be investing in something a little more nutritious than the edible equivalent of the News of the World.



Naz Osmanoglu - 1000% Awesome

Naz literally bursts into a gig with more than a 1000% energy, and I'm not solely talking about the stage. He arrives at the gig holding a promising looking box which looks to me like it could feasibly hold the props box from Star Wars.

He does not disappoint when he finally gets under the lights... despite apologising profusely at the start for not being able to give us a full rendition of his Edinburgh show, he still put in an impressive performance. I think the overriding feature of his performance is the dedication to each joke, section and audience interaction; it's heavily meticulous in its ferocity and incredibly endearing. Jokes are held well throughout the show without becoming repetitive and the theme of ebing half English, half Turkish plays well to Osmanoglu's strengths of visual performance and caricaturing.

I'd be keen to see this show again with the full ending which was promising to be very climactic until technical complications interrupted!

Stuart Goldsmith - Another Lovely Crisis

See, this is a show that you couldn't possibly hate. The two shows from last night varied so perfectly that I almost wanted to congratulate myself (and would have done had it not been complete fluke). Stuart is a quiet performer, he has a cheeky rapport with the audience and can turn on the charm when he wants for brilliant effect.

By beginning with an endearing introduction to his relationship with his godson, you're immediately enveloped in a touching scene of domesticity and detailed amusing anecdotes. He builds on this and the show takes a beautiful turn into the achingly honest. His exploration of anxiety and personal approach to life is gently insightful but never goes too far into making the audience uncomfortable.

This show doesn't have too many raucous laughter moments, however, I would happily go and see it again. It does seem like a wonderful show to nestle into a rainy afternoon in Scotland when you want to laugh consistently and feel like you've met someone who really wants to talk to you. I'll be keen to see how the show progresses as he polishes and perfects some of the woollier sections; he'll certainly convince you as a performer that attention to detail is a key factor in his performance.