if you'd have known i were coming, you'd have baked a cake

wednesday. and my pre-assigned topic is comedy. useful, as i have a gig to plug. not that anybody reads this. but when this night goes down in legend, there will be record of its happening that can be regarded as basically factual.

the night in question will be in london (more's the pity) and, specifically, soho and, even more specifically, in the escape bar on brewer street. it has to start on time (seven of the pm), cos the venue are being weird and have started advertising their (actually wildly enjoyable) trannyoke night as starting before we usually end. oh well. we're moving after this one.

the night is called tom:foolery, and is an evening of entertainment where all said entertainment is provided by people called thomas. to date we have had the likes of tom stade, tom parry off of pappy's fun club (he is julius in this clip) and devastatingly attractive best newcomer 2007 tom basden. i am the resident tom:pere...

the next one, though, is massive. we will have tom craine, tom deacon, tom price and the majestic tom wrigglesworth. and more toms than that. i shan't mention them all, as you'll get tom blindness. but on the seventh o' this month at seven pm, do make your way down to soho.

PS, if you're called tom, you get in for a quid.


tuesday... what are they again?

i have, along with the coterie (d, h, i & n) just got back from the caledonian hinterland. it was a reminder of many things about scotland. firstly, it's titting cold. secondly, i love it. thirdly, glasgow is the best gig you can ever do. seriously, well done glasgow. it's our fifth year at your lovely comedy festival and we'll be back.
the title of this post refers to the fact i have failed to update this blog six times a week (!) as i thought i would do. and consequently, i have forgotten what tuesdays are supposed to be.

*quickly checks

ah, yes. language. further to the last post, i thought i'd share a love of mine. many of the people who know me will have been subjected, at some point or another, to some caterwauling in spanish. i have, for some time, been mildly obsessed with ricky martin. now, i've only got three ricky albums (that's a small number isn't it? a small number). my favourite things on these miesterworks are the spanish language versions of songs that were hits in english.
y en un rincón, caímos juntos
en un rito de pasión
y al tocar su pielsenti el calor
yo puse el deseo, ella puso el control,
she bangs, she bangs
she does, it would appear, bang. there's no real accounting for the fact i like this. the rest of my record collection is primarily white guys with white guitars. not that i'm proud of that, but it's true. if they've never done a dylan cover, then they probably don't figure highly in my most played artists...

i have sung these songs in spanish at karaoke, at karaoke circus and on my own while walking down hackney streets at night. they're proper good. but at least half of their appeal for me is the spanish language. they remind me that i have the ability to understand what someone speaking FOREIGN is saying. nuts. plus, the lyrics are often beyond stupid.

a case in point is the spanish version of livin' la vida loca (on other counts an exceptionally good song) where credulity stretches to breaking point.
la reina de la noche
la diosa del vudú
yo no podré salvarme
¿podrás salvarte tú?
la tela de la araña,
la uña del dragón
te lleva a los infiernos
ella es tu adicción...
te besa y te desnudo
con tu baile demencial...

it starts soberly enough with reference to the "queen of the night" (prescient, much?) and a "goddess of voodoo". so far, so silly. "i can't save myself" opines our ricky but wonders whether you could save yourself. then it really gets going... "the web of the spider, the nail of the dragon". we presume this is some sort of voodoo recipe, but it's never really explained. skip a bit about hell and we get to "te besa y te desnudo"... she kisses you and strips you. does she? ok. i don't remember that in the english. and then you're doing a "baile demencial" (an insane dance). just brilliant.

in all seriousness, though, good on him for coming out. it's been an open secret for years. i know a fella who overhead ricky martin bitching that george michael had stolen his boyfriend (this was back in 2001) so i've known since then. but i think we all knew.

but now you know that i love ricky martin.