Tales of a Comedians Ego - March 2007
Current mood: chipper

Hello Comedy Sluts,

What a freakin few months it has been.

I am now fully installed in my Southend-on-sea abode, and it has provided more simulation than baking soda on a clitoris. (Please forgive the foulness of that simile). Sometimes I just like to walk the seafront of an evening and inhale the smell of spliff, onion vinegar, and vag. I haven't had my first fight yet, but someone did say I "had the hair of an E4 cunt" - which was still special.

The Mayor of Southend said that if I carry on contributing to Southend so generously I may earn a key to the town's vault, which is full of bars of gold moulded into the name of Gary. In Southend it is traditional for all male residents to be re-named Gary after 1 year of Southendianism. To be upgraded to a Gary Gold is the town's highest honour. A similar tradition is followed in Rayleigh with the name Dave; and in Shoebury with the name Cockface. 

The big exciting creative news is my adopting of luvvie airs and performing sketches. Like proper acting and that, mate  (see I even speak Sarfend now). Along with Sadie Hasler (who is extremely talented and has a wonderful vulva) I have been performing weird-hilarious sketches on everything from fundamentalist Islam (I'm now a topical mo-fo) to serial killing northerners. What fun. Not only this, but that pesky Fakespeare idea, which was just meant to be a bit of throwaway fun grows ever popular. Seen them yet? Click here to see the ones that were broadcast on Paramount Comedy Channel. http://www.paramountcomedy.com/shortcuts/series.aspx?episodeID=83

So. Fancy seeing me and the succulent Sadie arsing about and doing all this nonsense live? Well the first opportunity is at The Railway Hotel pub, Southend, on Sunday, April 1st 2007. A gig more intimate than a Frenchman's advances. We will be teaming up with Quirkish Delight superstar Sarah Mayhew to perform a bumper show of absurdity and vileness. Do join us.

My cats Keith and Wayne are fine. I've been worried about Wayne the Tonkinese lately, as he has started abusing skunk Catnip. It's not like the Catnip Keith (the Burmilla) did in the 70s. This shit is full on.

My kitchen cabinet had broken. 

Also, my lego hair has been giving me problems.

I love anyone who can be fucked to read this egotistical drivel.

Russell Kane

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Tales of a Comedian's Ego Part 5 (Depressed yet Happy)
Current mood: bouncy

What a packed week of variety.

First to kick off with some ego house-keeping. You will notice that my age has decreased yet again. This is due to male vanity: my target age is actually 26. I'm hoping to hit that in Feb 2007 - but it's early days yet.

You may also notice a change of photographs. Look how in one I have taken it myself and added a sepia effect. This is a pathetic attempt to strike a sub-Freeman's catalogue pose finding the right balance between friendliness and comeliness, hoping that BidUp TV will finally hire me to flog tat at 1am.

I am now a non-ironic Southendian. That means I can get drunk at places as varied from The Hog's head to the Sun Rooms. Whether it's chatting about birds and nutting someone who was giving the biggun, or talking about Iran and dancing patronisingly to reggae - all my cultural needs are catered for.

I love it so much on the coast that I was devastated by bad news earlier in the week. I may be FORCED to move back to clapham; I will be smeared with hummus upon entry into that town due to the amount of mockery I gave it on stage in Edinburgh, where, incidentally my show was judged to be main-stream. Finally. If I has one more comment denouncing me as scary and different I would have eaten my own book on Knob-Jokes. This property news put me into a scary fit of woe. Keith, the blue Burmilla, became genuinely fazed. Wayne, my apricot Tonkinese, hasn't smoked cat-nip for days. Sorry, family.

Thursday perked me up though. I'm doing all this glam stuff for Five US, that brill new channel at the mo, and in the evening I got to do a local gig at Seymours - which was wonderful. I was really very offensive to several ladies in the front row.

All in all, a peaceful end to a turbulent yet funny week. If you can't laugh, what can you do? Oh yeah - you can of course egotistically whine in blog form, like a cunt. Ciao!

Currently reading : For Whom the Bell Tolls By Alexander Adams Release date: 01 July, 1999

8:43 AM - 3 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Tales of Comedian's Ego, Part 4
Current mood: discontent

Oh not a brill week lifewise.

Don't get me wrong, in regards to mirth-generation it's been most productive. Went to the Comedy Store, Norwich and accused a man in the front row of looking like Richard from the 80s game Guess Who. Everyone laughed, except him. Then he got that murder-me-in-the-back-of-van glaze on his face and I knew I'd crossed his line. Funny - even if I did have to eat my complimentary pizza with a fat security guard watching over me. I keep getting hardnuts wanting to punch me. I can't blame them. I irritate myself.

Writing-wise it has been an excellent week. My girlie and I started work on a play (for a festival) wherein I play Garyenti from Yates's pub who speaks in full on Shakespearean. here's an excerpt:

"Abi Titmuss is twice a thousand curs!

If Beauty be the goal of Nature, then the netting of thy goal is infinitely by Thierry Henry struck upon. If the orbit of thy appeal compels my hearts travel, then thy beguile is the M25 and every slip-road clogged with suitors. But hear now that I with TomTom Sat Nav have crafty B-roads found and am in ecstasy broken down upon the hard-shoulder of thy love."

sort of thing. Should be funny if hammily enough done. And if it fucks up; well I'm very lucky to have self-loathing as my petrol. It's a win-win situation.

Now to the crap: there have been a few glitches in my relocation to Southend to live with my fit new bird. If the sale fails to go through, I'll be forever more trapped among the Habitat furnished streets of Clapham. That would suck. Not only that but my Burmilla cat Keith twisted his paw and now walks with a limp. It can't all be fun and games.

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Tales of a Comedian's Ego: Part 3
Current mood: rejuvenated
Category: Life

Holy shit. What a week. It kicked off with an absolutely rip-roaring motherfucker of a gig in  Kingston, Surrey. There was a posh family in the front row from Tadworth, and I was really horrible for half-an-hour, tirading about balsamic vinegar and gamey pheasants. At one stage I offered to mate with his daughter to add a bit of rugged working-classness to their genetically-fucked-up posh bloodline. This did not go down well, and I thought the Dad (sorry 'the Father') was going to beat my Kasabian-esque locks with a rolled up copy of The Telegraph. Then on Tuesday - I don't know why - I got absolutely hammered. I went to this bar called The Sun Rooms in Southend-on-Sea and drunk about 10 redstripes. I found myself patronisingly dancing to reggae (or 'reggie' as I heard one posh div pronounce it) and getting all testosterone because the girl I was with dared to speak to another male. Imagine the sight of a withered bignosed numbnut combining Jamaican pelvic thrusting with skinny testosterone woe. I looked an idiot. The next day I got a cold. Good. It's what I deserved - but being mucul and being a 'high-energy comic' is not a good combination. I was managing to shake it off a little by Thursday, but during a podcast gig in Colliers Wood when a guy (who looked like he hadn't finished evolving) threatened to shit down my neck while I was trying to do my Captain Birdseye routine - well I lost it a little. Brought it back in the end - and it was  stormer. But ultimately Mr Missing Chromosome had the edge. Last night rocked, however. I was in the pork-pie capital of England. That's right: Melton Mowbray. I asked them if they had a Toni and Guy's hairdresser - they just laughed, of course not. So I said - imagine what it would be like. Do you think you'd get a free pork pie while they stuck the GHD ceramics on your locks. Imagine the stylist: "Bring some mustard for Mr Kane's pie; I'm gonna give the cunt a mullet." Oh, life...

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