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
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.
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……..
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 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”
I am so enjoying this show now I know what I am talking about. The audience and I expose what is acceptable in comedy and in life… life is funny
Four gigs into the tour and I have finally found my feet. It is always a problem putting a new act together. Last years 40 years in showbiz tour was sensational, it was the best thing I’ve ever done. Now I have to follow that. How do you do that? Well, I decided that what I’ll do it just moan about the things that get on my tits, and there’s lots of them.
It’s funny how people react.
Donald Trump…. They love him
Diane Abbott they wet themselves laughing. I have started calling her Diane Abacus. When construction company Corillian went into liquidation , she asked,” how much is a Corrillian?”
I met once at the House of Commons, she was having lunch at the table with Bernie Grant… Do you remember him? Are used to wear African garb. Anyway, I said hello, and she closed her eyes to try and summon up who I was. That gave me time to escape.
Europe….. They want out
Boris……… They love him
I like my audience.
it’s been a while, so I thought I better write a few things.
I’m just finishing a tour for small theatres in the UK. The show is called 40 years on. It reflects on the 40 years since I won New Faces in 1976. I am enjoying it. This autumn I am doing the show without music and lighting… A sort of unplugged version.
What I had forgotten, was just how bizarre and rotten some of our hotels are. And if you criticise them on social media, local people who have probably never been there in their lives defend them as if they were their own children. I went to one in Exeter, and in the bar next to reception there were a pair of legs dangling through the ceiling. A man was working, and while he was doing it there was debris and dust falling into people’s cups of tea. I checked out my bedroom, it smelt of an old janitor’s bucket. I made my excuses and left. I am the bad guy!!!!
I think the way forward is to stay in Premier Inns, you know what you gonna get.
Have you noticed annoying things in hotels?, like having to make your own toast and your own tea. And then serve yourself some dried out bacon and a piece of fried egg that looks as if you could make a frisbee out of it.
And then you sit in the lobby with a cup of tea, try desperately to get on the Wi-Fi that is slower than a snail, and try and catch up on your emails while people clean and vacuum around you. I asked the receptionist.” Am I getting in the way?” “No” she said with a smile and complete missed the point of why I asked her.
Pillows. Why do hotels buy the cheapest pillows they can find? I’ve had a stiff neck for three months.
well thats my moan over.
I recorded Piers Morgan show the other day. In the audience was a guy(can you say that now?) from the Mirror. he listend with interest as I told a story of saving a soldiers life..and then ran a story how I had a feud with Bruce Forsyth.
Actually I never had a feud with him. I hardly ever talked to him. I once was given a dog by his ex wife Anthea. It was a great Dane. Julie(think that was her name) and I lived in Wentworth. This dog was a giant and had bollocks the size of ice buckets. It was also a vegetarian. Anyway , cut a long story short, I did a bit in the Sun that we were looking for a home for Bruce’s old dog. he came round my house going bonkers. ”You can’t get rid of that dog, he’s a killer!” well thanks Bruce. I never spoke with him again because I never saw him. He didn’t mix with my mob. When I took over the Gen game I thought I would get a card!…No. he was a private man who preferred his own close friends like Tarby.
Now I did have a feud with him. I was pissed and watched his performance at Blazers in Windsor. He had been in the doldrums for a while but a brilliant spot on the royal variety show propelled him back to stardom and full houses. I said “Great show Jimmy, good to see you back after your layoff” That did it..brought the old scouser to life!! ”How dare you..you’re not even a comic you’re just a cheeky personality..you won’t be funny till you’re forty” That told me!
Care after Combat is doing well despite no money from HMG yet! 250 veteran prisoners helped. My team has reduced re-offending by 90% please go to CaC twitter and join x
The Keith Emerson Tribute show is approaching fast 28th July Birmingham Symphony Hall x