The last time we moored there we were the furthest mooring away from the entrance to the marina.  We couldn’t park there this time as Kevins and Stukie’s  lungs would not hold out during the 10 minute walk to the gate. The harbour masters found this mooring closer to the entrance to the marina.  It was a bit tight and I put a small scrape along the side of the hull, nothing serious, just a bit of a scratch where a chunk of the wooden walkway leapt out and attacked the boat.  Kevin was busy protecting the side of the boat that wasn’t in danger.  Stucky  was up the front  making sure I didn’t ram anything. I got it wrong!


It turned out that the small scratch could be rubbed out, but I took the opportunity of repairing a small chunk that  had bin taking out the bow  by the previous owner.


We decided we would stick the roof up.  it is a canvas top erected by stainless steel rods.  The three of us did not have a clue.  Eventually we got it  up and I almost heard round of applause from the surrounding boats.  It must’ve looked like a scene from the generation game  or possibly, last of the summer wine.  We took it down the day we sailed, as we kept banging our heads on the poles.


On the Friday I was to do a gig in Falmouth.  My agent Chris Davies  had been really concerned about this gig.  They hadn’t sold many tickets.  He called the many times but got no sense from them.  It was a small 400 seater venue, we had only sold 200 tickets.  The gig for the following evening in Torquay had sold 900.  Something was wrong.  I immediately cancelled our plan to sail to Falmouth  as this is a 150 mile round trip and would use  too much fuel.  200 people would not be enough to cover the costs.  No problem we would hire a car and drive there.

I called up a local car hire company called Enterprise  and booked a Mercedes.  The man on the phone was very helpful and kept saying “perfect”


Friday at 11 o’clock Kevin and I got a taxi to the enterprise office.  We waited in the queue and heard a young lady talking to the people in front of us.  She said,” perfect” every other word.

We eventually got her attention,  and I filled in the form.  I presented her with my driving license and my VISA  card.  She said that she could not accept the card as it was a debit card and not a credit card. She told me I could have a cheaper car with a debit card.  Perfect… I asked which one could I have? and she told me she didn’t have any…” perfect my arse”


Kevin and I  set off walking back to Torquay.  We then flagged down a nice old taxi driver who took us to Thrifty, the car hire company  at the Torquay railway station.


Thank heavens it was a grown-up  behind the counter.  He promptly gave us a BMW M4.


We drove back to the boat, loaded up with merchandise, and set off for the 2 ½ hour journey to Falmouth.


On arrival we noticed the car park was full, with no parking space saved for us. So, it would seem no one had read the contract.  But, it was no big deal and we made our way to the theatre.  It didn’t look like a theatre it looked like a community centre.  There was nothing to say who was on, in fact, there was nothing to say it was a theatre.

I entered the building and spoke to the pleasant elderly lady at the box office. I asked who was on she told me it was me and that I had been there the year before…I hadn’t. The place was crawling with families and kids taking advantage of the garden and the restaurant that was run by millennials.

I went on stage and was greeted by  more millenials ginger woman with iron in her face another guy and a man in shorts who constantly had his head in an I phone. The lights were aimed all over the place and the PA system was as if Hawkwind were on their way.


I asked to see the lighting…my guess is that the guy had not done it before.  The lady with the metal bits explained that she was the events manager. The bloke in the shorts produced a radio mike and I said “one two”   It was surprisingly not rotten.


I would use no lights and leave the lights on that the cleaners use.


I went and bought Kev and I a burger in the Bar. There were lots of people eating. The waitress aged 12  behind the bar had to ask her friend if they were still serving food. The fire alarm went off for 10 minutes and nobody did a thing! A man in the restaurant asked me what I was doing in Falmouth?

I went out to the car and got changed in the carpark. It was becoming obvious that this lot couldn’t give a fuck!

I walked up the stage stairs at 1935 and commenced as the audience drifted in from the bar.

Two and a half hours later  we went back to Torquay and had a bowl of soup on the boat.


The place should be closed as a waste of money.  or sack the morons that run it and get some grown-ups who know about theatre. Or plod on with tribute acts who know no better.


It will be, and has been, reported as my fault.   Never again

Summer’s here



Captains log star date   Wednesday   first week of August

It was all planned.


In May I took delivery of a 2004 Princess 61 Motor vessel.  She was old, but she had plenty of room.  I needed a new office, as I cannot run my business of being a comedian from the charity’s office in Fareham.  What better place to have an office then on the high seas?  It can even move from one place to another should the need require.

The plan was for Kevin, my faithful roadie, and Stuckey my faithful old ex roadie, to join me on a trip to Southampton to Torquay.  I would be doing two gigs in the West Country. Falmouth in Cornwall, and Torquay in Devon. This would save hotel bills sleeping on the boat.  The trip to Torquay by boat is about 125 miles.

That is a lot of fuel, so we had to fill up on the Monday before we set off.  That was the plan, however….

The weather over the weekend had been terrible and the seas were rough.  I delayed the trip by 12 hours, we would pick up fuel Tuesday morning and set off at 16 kn.  This ,I have worked out, is the most fuel efficient speed.

Kevin was driving down from his home in Blackpool.  Stuckey, coming from Watford, got there first and we went to the Cove,  a tasty little bar restaurant at Shamrock quay marina.

Kevin had been unwell the previous month and was diagnosed with a dickie heart, and knackered lungs.  He only weighs 16 fluid ounces and only eats when fed by me.  He is however a great mate.

Me and Stuckey sat in the Cove restaurant, an unusually for him he ordered a rose wine, I had 1 too.  We then bumped into our friend Tiggy and a girlfriend, we joined them for a drink and ordered a bottle of rosé wine.  This turned into two bottles. This surprised me, as Stuckey does not drink.  After the second bottle, he started singing. Kevin arrived and tiggy’s boyfriend Pete.  More bottles were ordered.  A good time was had by all.

I noticed something was wrong when we ordered our food.  Kevin was incapable of eating, not only that but is false teeth fell out in the attempt.  I now had Stuckey singing at the top of his voice and Kevin drooling and talking incoherently.  His eyes were rolling around and he looked grey and horrible…. Nothing new there then, however, the fact that he had been to the doctors and was told he  was fucked  set the alarm bells going.  We called an ambulance.  They were fantastic, and carted Kevin off to Southampton Gen.  I finished his dinner, and stucky finished his wine.

After a whiskey or two on Pete and Tiggy’s boat Stuky and I fell into bed.  I was awoken at 06:30 by one of the marina staff.  He handed me a number.  I dialled it.  Kevin answered.  He asked me what he was doing in hospital.  He seemed okay and told me he had  booked a taxi to come back.

This is not the way to start the summer season.

Kevin arrived looking like the Turin shroud.  We slipped from the mooring at 0900 took on a thousand litres of fuel.,and set a course for Torquay.

Halfway across Christchurch bay the hangovers started settling in.  it was decided that we will divert to Weymouth for the night. This we did and tied up alongside this is beautiful and quaint little seaside town.  The harbourmaster and his team were fantastic and got is alongside safely. Vowing never ever to drink again we set off in search of bloody Mary’s.

An early night after the usual game of dominoes and we woke fully refreshed the following morning. The weather  had calmed down a bit and we set off to round the dreaded Bill of Portland and set a course East towards Torquay.

Three hours late we arrived…it Pissed down!

Legends Show tickets now on sale!

Care after Combat are thrilled to announce a one-off comedy spectacular billed as Legends; featuring comedy geniuses Jim DavidsonJethro and special guests Bobby DavroMick Miller and Mike Osman.

Individually, they have all been on the stand-up scene for decades and will combine on the Eventim Apollo stage in London this December. It’s going to be an absolute humdinger of an evening and one not to be missed!

The show is in aid of Care after Combat, a UK-based charity which provides professional assistance for the well-being of veterans and their family. It’s aim is to support veterans with alcohol and substance misuse problems and reduce the numbers of re-offending veterans in the criminal justice system.

To buy your tickets visit ->


VIP Aftershow Party tickets are also available for £125.00, which gives you access to party with me, Jethro and all our friends after the show.  Available from or call 03003430255 to book. 


me and Jethro’s tickets on sale from today at Eventim Apollo web site     Dec 10 with Mick Miller and Bobby davro with special guest Donald Twump!


What a storm last night. Went to bed after falling asleep watching designated survivour. Woke up by biblical thunder and a dog jumping on the bed in fear. It was 4 AM. I realised something was wrong. I had gone deaf in one ear. It felt like I had water in it. So off down stairs to look on the internet to see what I could do with the dodgy earole. It was then I heard it…with my left ear. BUZZING! what the fuck could make a buzz so loud I could hear it through the swimming pool in my ear. The storm has conjured up a deamon. A killer wasp the size of a bat. Now my hearing was in mono it was difficult to pinpoint where the buzzing was coming from. I did the best thing…legged it into the kitchen and started on the computer on the central res. next thing a perteridactile size beastie hits the computer screen. I leapt into the air and goober my toast out in fright. It was the biggest bee I have ever seen. It was the huge and had a crew of four driving it. I hid round the corner as the bee watched my twitter feed. When the thing got bored, or trolled, it sat there pondering on it’s next move. I decided to act. I switched on the micro wave. I opened the door and put a dollop of honey on the thing that goes round. “have that yer bastard” No , I got a glass …and filled it with scotch…no, I put the glass over the beastie and slid a tax bill under it. The bee was now distracted looking at how much tax I pay. while he was shaking his head I went to the door and threw him out. he’s still outside. I can hear him buzzing. The milkman’s for it!! He is not giving in this bee.. the fucker has just rung the door bell….now that’s what I call a bee!!!!


last week we at Care after Combat were visited by some of the cyclists who are peddling 300 miles on our HMS Pickle ride. HMS Pickle was the small ship that brought the great news of the battle of trafalgar and the not so good news of Nelson’s death. Nelson, a freemason was shot by a French mason who later took his own life…For he’s a jolly good fellow etc…anyway Pickle landed at Falmouth and the news set of by horse to London. It took 3 days… 6 hours to London and then two and a half days on the M25.
Well , these burly sailors turing up provided the muscle to lift a divorce surviving chesterfield up the stairs to our new office lounge on the first floor. All went well. The lounge need a coffee table. They nicked mine from my office. I then nicked Dr Nick’s bookcase to fill the hole where my coffee table went. To fill the hole where Nick’s bookcase was we moved a glass display cabinet. I left for home as it was wedged in the doorway. Kev and Sally would sort it…they did. Next morning Nick arived back fro Wales and noticed his papers lying all over the place. He then saw his books neatly placed in the display cabinet. he opened the doors and three shelves collapsed in a heap of shattered glass. one unhappy Boffin.
today I tried to move the offending cabinet,what was left of it, and the door flew off and shattered into a million pieces taking a chunk out of my thumb for good measure.

fuck being a removal man

The generation game

Many people have contacted me to get my thoughts. Well, I never watched it, I meant to borrow too much to drink and fell asleep on the sofa. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

I think you must look at why the BBC pick these two ladies to do a show that was so obviously beyond them. The BBC like to tick boxes. These ladies is nice As they are checked several, female, gay, Labour supporters, and no threat what so ever to any snowflakes that might be watching.

These poor women did not have a chance.

If they want the generation game done correctly they should call me…… Enough said.

Catch up

It has now being eight days since my successful operation to have my gallbladder removed. The surgery was done by great surgeon called Mr Mudan and  the anaesthetist was an old friend of mine. I have never had an operation before and so was a little nervous. We’ve all seen on the television an anaesthetic starting to work, and boy does it work. I woke up one hour later and had to look at the plasters on my abdomen to make sure that I had actually had the operation

I pay quite a lot of money for medical insurance. I adore the NHS and the work it does but I believe if one can afford to pay for private medical then one should. I can  and I did. The  operation was done at The London clinic, and I popped back there on Monday to have my stitches out, well to be more precise, my staples!!  I celebrated by having lunch with Barbara Windsor. What a star she is… We laughed until my wounds hurt.

Last November I recorded Piers Morgan’s life stories. It is on ITV this Saturday. I am in the hands of the editor. Although I feel that they go for sensationalism, and seek a headline, I told the truth. It is the only one thing in life we can rely on… Apart from death and the taxman.



Hope you enjoy it……..

a short break

I finished the tour last night in Bromley. It has been fun…really.  A few setbacks  like Cromer and the plastic glass. The upsetting thing about these things is I am always to blame,,,sound bad ? Jim’s fault, no lighting..Jim’s fault. Nowhere to park..Jim’s fault. Some theatres, especially council run ones have  tec. staff who’s only qualification is being able to bullshit the theatre manager who knows even less….My fault.

I have stopped using Facebook as it is like trial by opinion.   No matter who witness these events and contradicts the fake news..its always my fault.

Still, the tour has been jammed and the PC brigade got it in the Arse!

I am going in Hospital on Monday for the removal of my Gaul Bladder….to make room for more beer!

see you on  my recovery…and thanks.


oh….  Big Dick Whittington looks like it will happen….. can’t wait children

Cromer and the Millenials

Cromer is a quaint seaside town at the most easterly point of England. It has an old theatre on a pier. It is also famous for crabs, and last year was invaded by travelling people who held the town  hostage. It is also home to the Cromer lifeboat and it’s brave crew, some of whom I have shared many a hangover.

The theatre produces a long-running summer show and it does very well. Normally summer shows do not exist in a variety format any more, they are normally one nighters with a different star every night. What the Cromer show lacks in stars it makes up for by producing a good old-fashioned variety show that everybody loves and can afford.

I’ve played the theatre many times, it is a labour of love, you do not do it to make money as it only holds 400 people. Also you can only do it  in the winter because the summer show takes up all the good weather.

There was a bit of a problem at the end of last week. I turned up to do two shows. The weather was horrendous with a  gail force N E wind blowing. Kevin and I struggled to make our way down the slippery wet and rather dangerous wooden floor of the ancient peir. I could not understand how anybody would want to make this journey to see me.

There is no stage door as such so I waited in the bar area. I asked for a spritzer, and then explained what it was. I was poured a pint of it!!  but the wine was off. Not surprising really when I was the first show of the year and the wine had probably been there since the last show in the summer. The young man who served it understood, but the man with him became sarcastic and looked down his nose at me as if to say I bet nothing nothings good enough  for you is it. However the young man understood and poured me another one.

One by one the audience arrived looking like surviours from the failed  expedition to the Antarctic. The bar was freezing.

I went to my dressing room, this had newly been painted in white gloss paint, not only was the smell overpowering but I managed to smother the wife’s Christmas present, a new timberland coat, in paint.

After nearly passing out with the fumes I returned to the bar, most of the audience had taken their seats and I asked Kevin to get me a whiskey. I was told I could not have it in a glass but it had to be in a plastic tumbler. I told the woman I wasn’t happy with that because plastic tumblers kill turtles. She obviously had not seen David Attenborough. She bought the whiskey in a plastic tumbler, Kevin grabbed a glass and poured the tumbler into it. I was told I could not take it out of the bar. It was now at 8 o’clock and the show was waiting to begin. I explained to the woman I was taking it onstage. This made no difference, She told me I could not leave the bar with a glass.  She seemed pleased.I told her I would wait in the bar and finish it and could she explain to the audience why we were waiting. She then pulled a face and said please yourself and dismissed me with a flick of her hand..     What a star I felt.

I later explained this to the stage crew, who rolled their eyes to heaven and made gesticulation which summed up their thoughts about the front of house people. Mine too.

While I was on stage I told  the audience. I also told them that I would get the blame and that some spotty little oik from the local paper will get his headline “Jim Davidson rude to staff”

This is, or course what has happened



Great technical staff, wonderful ushers…shitty attitude millennials running the bar…blame me!!!   shame on you


The show went quite well.




The best line was from some  female on FB….Talking about the bar staff…”they pay your wages” me…”Thank them for the 15 k”