I had chicken nuggets for lunch.

Because apparently I am 9 years old. In my defence, they were pretty manly chicken nuggets, they weren’t children’s chicken nuggets, they came with a barbecue dip that was billed as spicy, but wasn’t. If I’m not mistaken, they were part of the Sainsbury’s ‘Manly Men’ range, which is located in the ‘butch adult foods’ aisle. Yes.

Yesterday I wrote a short film in a day. Well, I wrote a short short film. It’s 2000 words long, as it’s not quite finished, there’s one final part to add, but it’s pretty much there. It’s for a competition which is looking for films between 6-10 minutes long, and I have to conclude mine now as it’s reached the 10 minute mark I believe. I’d like to extend it outside of the competition though, as it’s potentially something that could be quite good (isn’t everything?), so I might look to write it to around the 20-30 minute mark perhaps. I’ll see how long it goes on for.

I think I might go to America. Just for a short time, to explore. Maybe get on a Greyhound Bus and stare out the window whilst listening to Bruce Springsteen. Of course, such excursions require money, and there lies the problem, I do not have enough money to travel about America as if I’m some kind of Texan oil magnate. I probably have just about enough money to be able to get to America, but then no money to get home, or even leave the airport. It could easily end up being like that Tom Hanks film where he just stays in the airport for years. The Terminal or something I believe it’s called. I mean, probably not exactly like that. I haven’t seen the film, but I doubt it consists of Tom Hanks arriving in a Mickey Mouse baseball cap, turning his pockets inside out and then spending the rest of the film trawling the bins for leftover bagels.

In many ways, I think that turning up with no money could actually be the best adventure possible. The American government probably wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about my plan, but again, that could only add to the adventure. If I spend two weeks being pursued about an airport by Tommy Lee Jones whilst eating bagels, then I’ll consider that a good holiday.

I need ways to make money. A proper job would be the obvious choice, but as I’ve learned over the past year and a half, that’s easier said than done. Instead I shall continue to dig for dubloons in the back garden. I fail to see how that could possibly not work, there’s got to be thousands of pirates who were based in Kent and buried their treasure just outside Tunbridge Wells. I guess we will find out.

Anyway, I have a cold, so I might eat a yoghurt. You know what they say about colds and yoghurt. As the old saying goes ‘if you have a yoghurt, it might help your cold, but then again, it might not’. Wiser times.

Gig time 2010.

It’s mid-February and I’ve just done my first gig of 2010. I lack the eye of the tiger. Anyway, last night I did a gig, my first since November of last year, and it was quite fun. It was the first time testing what I think is a fairly solid 5 minute set, and it went quite well. Having said that, I did forget the end of my set, but I’m fairly sure nobody noticed. Not even when I said “I’ve forgotten what I was going to say”, or launched into a rant about how I’d completely gone blank and couldn’t remember what I’d planned on doing. Of course, it’s possible that all that did give the game away somewhat, but I guess we’ll never know.

I’m saying that the gig went quite well, I haven’t actually listened back to it yet. I record all my gigs on a dictaphone so I can see what worked and what didn’t, then cut the material that didn’t and replace it with stuff that might, the idea being that eventually, you’ll have something great from start to finish. No doubt that when I listen back to what I thought was quite a good gig, I’ll be stunned to discover that there’s just silence, occasionally interrupted by the sound of myself chuckling at just how funny I thought I’d been. Let’s hope not though.

What was interesting was that when I did forget my material, people said that they actually saw my true voice come through, which, presumably, is an inept berk. At the moment I’m fairly relaxed when I’m on stage and relatively low key. I think when I forgot my material I actually started to have a bit more fun and became more energetic and engaging. It’s something that I shall continue to experiment with, as I’m still trying to work out what my actual style is. I’ve got a year to mess about with it. I originally thought 2009 would be my training year and I’d do ready to try and move up a level this year, but in actual fact I realise now that 2010 will be the year I’ve got to try and master this craft, which could potentially make 2011 a very exciting year.

In other news, I had some peach iced tea the other day. It was pretty good. I get the feeling I’ll be having more iced tea in 2010. In many ways, that makes 2010 a very exciting year, all those varieties of iced tea to get through. I’ve actually just searched for ‘Best Iced Tea’ on Google, but unfortunately all the results involve making your own iced tea. That’s no use, I’d mess it up. I tried making pancakes this morning and messed it up spectacularly, meaning I had to just sit about grumbling into a yoghurt after I’d poured all the batter down the sink. Maybe I should make my own iced tea though. I could become an ice tea master. That would be good.

This hasn’t been interesting at all. I’m still going to post it though. I’d like to think that in years to come, I’ll be able to look back on all these blog posts nostalgically and say “oh, look how boring I was back in the day!” as I spend the day stirring a tin of paint and discussing iced tea with a stuffed cat. Anyway, there’s got to be something more constructive I can do, so I’m going to go and see if I can work out what it is.

A cupboard of cornettos.

A short extract taken from my forthcoming sitcom ‘A cupboard of cornettos’. In this scene, we meet the three main characters, Steve, a man who owns an ice cream shop, his flatmate, Peter, a car salesman, and his girlfriend who lives with them, Patricia. Let’s join the action.

Peter: Steve! What’s this?

Steve: What’s what?

Peter: This cupboard, the hinges seem to be creaking!

Steve: Oh, that’s nothing. Just leave it.

Peter: Steve…

Steve: Leave it Peter!

[Peter opens the cupboard]

Peter: Steeeeeeeevvvveeeee! It’s a cupboard full of cornettos!

Steve: Whu-oh!

Peter: And they’re all melted!

Steve: Whu-oh^2!

Peter: Steve! Why do you keep storing your cornettos in the cupboard! You know what it does!

Steve: I don’t know Peter! I just like my cornettos from the cupboard!

[CUE THEME TUNE]

CORNETTOS IN THE CUPBOARD. CORNETTOS IN THE CUPBOARD. CORNETTOS IN THE CUPBOOOOOAAAARRRDDD.

Patricia: I haven’t said anything yet.

Peter: Shut up Patricia! Now’s not the time!

Steve: Have you ever noticed how you’re dating a woman with a name very similiar to your own? It’s almost as if somebody came up with these names on the spot and couldn’t think of a female name that was wildly dissimilar.

Peter: Shut up Peter! And get vacuuming the carpet! There’s cornetto all over the place! You and your fucking cupboard of cornettos!

Steve: But where else am I going to store them?

Peter: IN THE FRIDGE PETER! IN THE FRIDGE LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE DOES!

Steve: But how would that let hilarity ensue?

Peter: YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY PETER? YOU THINK THAT VACUUMING THE CARPET FOR 22 MINUTES IN SILENCE IS FUNNY? IT’S ARTHOUSE AT BEST PETER. AT BEST!

Steve: Hey! It’s not like I’m the only person who does stuff like this?

Peter: What do you mean?

Steve: Patricia?

Patricia: What? What are you looking at me for? I’ve not done anything.

Steve: Is that so? Well I dare say the lock on that loft seems to be bulging slightly!

Patricia: Well that’s just… you know, faulty… locks… we’ll call a man in the morning…

[Steve opens the loft]

Peter: PATRICIA! WHAT THE HELL?

Steve: I told you! She keeps her lilos in the loft Peter! Lilos in the loft! (It’s ripe for a spin-off)

CUE THEME TUNE.

LILOS IN THE LOFT. LILOS IN THE LOFT. LILOS IN THE LOFFFFTTTTTTT.

Peter: WHY DO YOU EVEN NEED THIS MANY LILOS? AND WHY DO YOU KEEP THEM ALL INFLATED?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!

Patricia: You hypocrite Peter! You stand here and chastise us? You think we haven’t seen the airing cupboard?

Peter: I don’t know what you’re talking about…

Steve: Oh really? Well let’s take a look shall we?

Peter: I don’t think that’s wi-

[Patricia opens the airing cupboard]

Steve: PETER! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?

Peter: It’s an airing cupboard full of airmiles! An airing cupboard full of airmiles!

CUE THEME TUNE.

IT’S AN AIRING CUPBOARD FULL OF AIRMILES.

Patricia: How the hell do you store a relatively abstract concept in an airing cupboard anyway?

Peter: Shut up Patricia! Or Steve will hoover your face off!

Steve: Will I?

Peter: You’d better Steve, or I’ll cut you with my airmiles!

Patricia: This isn’t quite Friends is it?

Peter: SHUT UP PATRICIA! STEVE! GET THE HOOVER!

Steve: I can’t! I’ve severed my arm on your airmiles!

Patricia: Help me! I’m drowning in cornetto juice!

Steve: I don’t think he can! He’s been smothered by a lilo!

Patricia: Pull me out Steve!

Steve: My other arm! It hurts Patricia! It hurts! Patricia? Patricia? PATRICCCCIIIAAAAAAAAA!

I mean, it’s very much a work in progress, but I think we’ll get there.

My last day in Siberia.

Tomorrow my exile is over and I’m back on facebook! Hooray I hear nobody cry. This has been a useful experiment though in some ways, and I think the main thing I’ve learned is that I am a tremendously lazy person. It’s not facebook that’s a drain on my time, since, in the absence of facebook, I’ve just been wasting my time on other websites instead. I’m just exceptional at procrastination. I’ve done next to no writing this week, which is not what I wanted to achieve. I need to make changes. I need to be Rocky Balboa. I need The Eye Of The Tiger. Which is why I’ve just loaded it on Spotify. Yes, this is inspirational. This will work. In fact, I’ve just found the entire soundtrack from various Rocky films. I love you Spotify. If it was good enough for Rocky, it’ll be good enough for me. Perhaps I’ll hang a giant slab of meat from my ceiling and punch it every morning before breakfast. Knowing my luck I’ll just get salmonella though. Or the ceiling’ll fall through. Either way, I’d get no writing done.

In other news, I heard back about the interview I had the other week. Surprising to say, but I didn’t get the job. They were fairly nice about it though, it wasn’t just a generic ‘thanks for coming in, but don’t come back’ email. They wished me well, said that they thought I was genuinely creative, and said that they thought I should stick to comedy and comedy writing (though they phrased it in a less brutal way than “Don’t get ideas above your station you glorified clown! Stick to being an idiot and leave the serious stuff to other people ok? And don’t come back!”). It was probably the nicest job rejection I’ve had so far, and that’s actually quite an honour by this point, given the almost ridiculous number I’ve had. Suffice to say, they’ll be getting a nomination at the ‘Andy Ward Failure Awards 2010′. The world’s premier awards show for celebrating failure in the face of adversity. All the stars will be coming out for it, there’ll be… me, and… pfft… the dog maybe? If he’s attending. He might give it a miss unless I put a pig’s ear in a goody bag. Have to see what I can do.

Despite it being a nice rejection, the fact remains that it’s still a rejection, and I remain without a proper job, a good 18 months or so after I’ve graduated. Things really are not looking good, which is why it’s all the more important that I actually put my tracksuit on, run up some steps and actually get writing. Or do some more stand-up. These are the things that I might actually be good at. I won’t know until I’ve given it a proper shot.

Though having said that, I’ll probably just waste all my time messing about on facebook. Let’s see how things go. And as I type this, a tune called ‘War/Fanfare From Rocky’ comes on. Evidently this is what Rocky wants me to do. Thanks Rocky, you hero.

Lottery cubes.

I didn’t get round to blogging yesterday as I must have been doing something in the morning (though I have absolutely no idea what it was now), and set off for my stand-up course fairly early on in the afternoon. There wasn’t much to be said yesterday really though, though I did go to a pretty good restaurant in the evening before my course. It was a Thai restaurant called Sabai. It was cool. You could buy wooden elephants. I didn’t, because they were about £50, but if the desire had taken me, I could have owned a wooden elephant. Probably not the most important factor to many people when deciding whether to visit a restaurant or not, the presence of ornate animals, but I liked it. The food was also great. Overall, my review of this restaurant is: very good. Mind you, I’m happy eating anywhere, apart from, as we’ve probably established in an earlier tale from this very blog ‘Hank and Alan’s Mushroom and Onion Shack’. I don’t go there anymore.

Anyway, I had my stand-up course. I practiced some material. It went well, so I’m happy. I’ll continue to try new material every week until I’ve got to what’s known as a ‘killer 5′, which is, I’m led to believe, a level up from a ‘great 5′. I’m not quite sure where a high 5 fits into this heirarchy, but probably fairly high up. Although no doubt it’s probably been demoted considerably from where it was in lieu of Halifax deciding they’ve not had enough fun ruining the economy, so have seemingly set out to vanquish high fives with their almost impossibly annoying adverts. I say I’m working towards a killer 5 anyway, though I don’t actually have a ‘great 5′ yet. I’ve probably got a ‘fluctuating 5′. There are good parts. I like it, or at least, I seem to remember I liked it before I became so used to it I can’t remember whether or not it was funny.

I spent this morning at work, assembling promotional cubes for the National Lottery Euromillions draw on Friday. This required me to use my brilliant engineering talents to fold cardboard and insert tabs into holes. You’d think this was easy enough, indeed, many people would be hard pressed to mess this up. I did though, and my first attempt became some kind of hideous mutant cube. Before I could correct my mistake though it scuttled off and hid in the air conditioning system. I decided not to say anything, and continued to craft cubes.

Having finished my craftery, I found stood around with about 4 Euromillions cubes. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was meant to do with them. I had several ideas, though I’m not entirely sure customers would have appreciated being pelted with cardboard cubes by a man shouting ‘IT’S A ROLLOVER!’ as they walked into the shop to pick up their newspaper. Besides, they had bigger concerns. I heard the padding of tiny feet on metal, and looked up at the air conditioning vent. There was a brief moment of silence, then the vent flew down to the ground, and a nearby customer who had just come in for a bag of sugar and a Caramac got dragged in screaming. I tried to save them, but could only half-heartedly shout ‘It’s up to £85 million you know…’ as I gently threw another Euromillions cube in that general direction. I was quite tired, and to be honest, I couldn’t be bothered serving any more customers anyway.

Shortly afterwards, there was a growl, and then a giant ballpoint pen spewed out of the vent. I helped the ballpoint pen to it’s… point, and asked if it was ok. “I’M A BALLPOINT PEN!” It screamed in anguish. “I ONLY CAME IN FOR A BAG OF SUGAR AND A CARAMAC!”

I somehow felt this was my fault. After all, I was the one who had released the mutant cube into the wild, and now he was regurgiating people as ballpoint pens.

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” I said, as I patted the manpen on the back. “Think about how much time you’ll save on signing cheques!” I quickly realised this made little to no sense, but I reckon this manpen had greater concerns on his mind.

“Isn’t there something you can do? Can’t you do something? DO SOMETHING!” Shouted the pen.

“I could probably let you have a Caramac for free.” I said.

“BUT I’M STILL A PEN!”

“A pen with a Caramac.”

“BUT A PEN!”

“Oh fine, look, I’ll see what I can do.” I said. I’d been up since 6 AM. Going toe to toe with a mutated lottery cube was the last thing I needed right now, but I could see I was going to have to do something. I picked up a nearby broom and hauled myself up into the vent.

It was dark in the vent. I struggled to see exactly what I was doing, though somewhere in the distance I could hear the chattering of teeth. Lottery teeth. I crawled through the vent, using my mobile phone to light the way. The chattering of teeth got gradually louder, which meant I must have been going in the right direction. But then, it’s a small shop, our ventilation system isn’t the largest. Anyway, as I rounded the corner after crawling for 7 miles, my phone illuminated the small figure of a Euromillions mutant. I had cleverly managed to sneak up behind it. This was my chance to take him down quickly and easily. I reached for my AK47, but as I did, I accidentally banged my elbow against the side of the vent. “Argh!” I shouted. The cube leapt round and let out a piercing battle cry of ‘DREAAMMM NUMBEEEERRRRRRR!’ I panicked and began to fire my AK47, spraying rounds all over the place as the tiny cube leapt about the vent like a rubber frog. After I’d fired off about 150 rounds, the trigger began to click. My heart skipped a beat as I realised that this was not good news. Thankfully, my panic was short lived as I looked across to see the mutant cube lying still at the other end of the vent, bleeding numbers, dead.

I shuffled back the way I’d come and out of the vent.

“Andy, you’ve freed me from my curse!” Shouted the manpen, now just a man, as he danced with his Caramac.

“Please, I was just doing my job.” I said, as I brushed the dust off myself. “Now let’s scan that Caramac and forget about this whole thing.”

“Andy, I need to have a word with you.” Said my supervisor, emerging as a character from nowhere. “There are 7 corpses in the vegetable aisle riddled with bullets. Do you know anything about this?”

“No…” I said, as I folded my origami AK47 behind my back and subtley placed it in my back pocket.

“Well, in that case, as you were.”

“Ok. Now, I’ve just got one last question for you.” I said, as I turned to the former manpen.

“What is it?”

“Do you want one bag of sugar or two?”

We both laughed, high fived, and froze as we watched the credits scroll up the screen to the music of Duran Duran. That was pretty much the end of the day. Neither of us had anticipated that it would take up around 1200 words on a blog post, but you know, sometimes that’s just the way it goes. Now I’m off to eat some tiny pancakes like a Shrove Giant.