More stand-up!

Doing stand-up comedy again at the Front Cafe and Gallery in Lyneham, this Wednesday 8 August from 8pm.

Also, doing city 2 surf on the weekend. Anyone driving back from Sydney on Sunday?

Lesser known 'walks into bar' jokes

[Cross-posted at Snarkeology]

[Jokes have been sorted into categories to aid enjoyment. Punch-lines have been italicized to aid the obtuse]

Animal misogyny humour
A man walks into a bar with a Shetland pony and orders a beer. The barman says: ‘we don’t serve ponies in here.’

The man says: ‘That’s no pony. That’s my wife.’ The pony whinnies and then the man says: ‘Shut up bitch, I’ll get you a fucking bloody mary when I’ve finished my beer.’

Department of Finance humour
A Treasury official walks into a bar and orders a round of drinks for his friends.

Professional regulation humour
Three brain surgeons walk into a bar and one of them orders drinks saying:
‘Three beers, my good man, and make it snappy – my colleagues and I are operating in twenty minutes.’

And the bar man replies: ‘Being a barman is only a part-time job. My full-time job is as chair of the Medical Professional Standards Review Board. And I’ll being bringing you up on charges of Consumption of Alcohol while on Duty. I must also say that your rude and demeaning attitude to perceived inferiors will not help you as you defend your case before a sitting of the full review board in August.’

Inappropriate disability humour
A blindman walks into a bar and orders a beer. He says to the barman: ‘lot of weather we’ve been having.’

And the barman replies: ‘That’s not weather. The other patrons are pouring their drinks on you as well as spitting and urinating on you.’

European Union humour
An Englishman, Irishman and a Frenchman walk into a bar and order three beers.

The barman says: ‘well, it’s just gone closing time but I suppose there’s no harm in getting your order’

To which the Irishman replies: ‘well actually we’re officers of the Directorate of Economic and Corporate Affairs, Consumer Division, Liquor Licensing Branch, Investigations Inspectorate, Beer & Allied Beverages Unit. That simple decision to serve three drinks is probably going to cost your entire livelihood.’

And the barman replies: ‘Actually your ad hoc judgment in this affair seems clearly inconsistent with clause 17 of European Directive 31 of 2005 (‘Transitional Arrangements for Certain Types of Business Establishments’). Also, this is Latvia and you have no jurisdiction here until 2009.’

South African humour, circa 1968
A black man walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bar man says: ‘we don’t serve kaffirs in here. Get out.’

The black man replies: ‘Your attitude seems somewhat unreasonable. I have only walked into this public bar seeking momentary refreshment. I will drink up and leave presently.’

‘It’s not unreasonable. This is South Africa circa 1968. Didn’t you read the title to this joke? Stupid kaffir!’

Soviet humour circa 1921
A Bolshevik walks into a menshevik bar and orders a beer. The barman says: ‘We don’t serve Bolsheviks.’

And the Bolshevik replies: ‘Oh but shortly you will. At the recent Party Conference, our faction seized control of the Politburo. All of Russia now belongs to us. The other Republics will follow swiftly. Also, your wife and children and currently being transported to a reeducation camp in Novosibirsk.’

Sexual non-sequitur humour
A man walks into a lesbian bar, stands next to two lesbians kissing passionately and orders a drink: ‘I’ll have what she’s having and also two small bowls of pork scratchings.’

Professional non-sequitur meta-humour
Three agronomists walk into a bar and order a beer. The first agronomist places a large mound of cow manure on the bar. The second puts a large pile of sheep manure next to it. The third follows this up with what appears to be human faeces but is actually artfully sculpted alpaca manure.

The barman stares at the three agronomists silently for 30 seconds before he says: ‘there had better be an unholy punchline to this joke to justify putting all this shit on my bar.’

The first agronomist says: ‘punchline?’
The second says: ‘joke?’
The third says: ‘bar?’

Stand-up for your love rights

Did Stand-up tonight at the Front cafe and gallery in Lyneham as part of a regular monthly gig they have with about 7 or 8 comics on the Bill including an MC who came up from Melbourne (oooh Melbourne, edgy)

I gotta say I loved it. I think I did pretty well, got some good laughs, some good ad-libs. I felt very comfortable.

This was my third time doing stand-up. I also did Raw Comedy in 2004 and 2006 when I really didn't feel like I performed to my expectations -- just came away disappointed. But this, this was great.

But the August gig is booked out -- I probably won't get on the bill so may have to wait until September...

City meet surf, knees meet your doom

Yes, I've just signed up for the City2Surf fun run. Any other local [local to the run, I'll have to travel to be a local for this] bloggers feel like coming for a run? We could carry a giant banner that says: "Super blog friends make the best friends!!!"

Huh.

[Cross-posted at Snarkeology.]

[I was walking down the street, whistling and minding my own business, when I saw a car hit a tree and burst into flames. Heroically and without a thought for my own safety, I pulled the driver from the burning wreck which was just seconds away from exploding. She turned out to be J.K. Rowling and in return for my selfless deed she handed me a page from her new book, the final Potter installment, Harry Potter and Deathly Hallows. I present it here for your interest.]


In an earlier scene of the uh, movie which hasn't been made yet, Hermione and Harry discuss quidditch tactics when Ron notices a mysterious ghostly sandwich for the first time. Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Mama Cass Elliot looks on, disgusted at their lack of respect for the new Minister for Magic, Mal Brough (not pictured).

Before Harry could react Voldemort raised his wand and another jet of green light streaked at him, knocking him to the cold flagstones of the crypt.

"You are a fool to defy me, Harry, like your parents were, like Dumbledore was." A dark smirk spread across the Dark Lord's ashen features like a slick of oil. "Only your fate will not be destruction, your fate will be to rule the world at my right hand."

"No!" Harry screamed and dove across the floor towards his wand but Voldemort moved quickly, too quickly.

"Paralytica!" He said and Harry felt something cold brush against his heart. He fell to the stone again, harder this time where he remained, staring upwards, seeing and hearing all. In a twirl of his cloak, Voldemort transformed hismelf into the image of Ron, grinning fiercely in a sickening parody of Harry's friend's true smile.

And then Harry heard a noise which almost stopped his heart. Hermione. He suddenly heard her voice and her careful footsteps. No! Harry screamed within his silent rigid body. No! Get away! That's not Ron! But it was no use, he was unable to make even the smallest sound.

"Oh, Ron," she said. "Ron! I was so afraid that you'd be hurt! And where is Harry?" 'Ron' gestured down at Harry's supine form.

"It's OK, he's just sleeping. Old Voldy must have hit him with some pretty powerful stuff before he went down. Pooped poor Harry out and now he needs a rest. He'll be fine. Here, have something to eat. I bet you haven't eaten since breakfast. You're no good to Harry starving to death, are you? Eat this." Ron/Voldemort produced a strangely glowing sandwich from under his coat which Harry immediately recognised as the fearsome throat-blocking Deathly Hallows sub. No! He screamed silently inside again. No!

'Well I am a little peckish,' Hermione said, tearing delicately at the sandwich with her small incisors. And then it began. The terrible choking which Harry had observed in Hogsmeade. The choking from which there was no return."

Amazing stuff, huh? Bad luck about Hermione, eh? Still, Harry gets Voldemort in the end.

harry potter

Woe is freakin' me (out)

I just found this old post of Killer-rabbit's (took a while to get around to my customary ego-surfing).

(Yes, this is another 'why don't people like me?' post. And yes I've been doing a few of these of late. And yes, this is a large part of the reason for the birth of Snarkeology. But this is a different kind of whiny post. This is a whiny post looking for answers.)

I used to post a when crustaceans attack and then took an 18-month hiatus and came back with this site. Periodically, people tell me (as KR did above): 'dude you are teh shit, teh funy and probably teh spunky hotness too for all I can see. I want to have your little comedy babies.' This is nice -- don't get me wrong, this is not what I'm whining about.

It's the fact that despite that surely though I'm on the 48th percentile of quality bloggers in a world of 7 billion bloggers (everybody on Earth has at least one, some have two) I can't seem to pull much in the way of readership. My all time high is 43 hits in a day (and the bottom is about 5). Some other bloggers bend down to scratch themselves and come back to find more hits than that...

Also -- not so many comments but I suspect these two things are linked in some unknowable fashion.

It is with pointless life-characterising envy that I see other newer bloggers zoom past me in the readership department. Wuhuh?

So what am I doing wrong? What am I not doing at all?

Comments, er, welcome. Please don't feel the need to just say 'dude you are teh lite of teh world, please don't ever bring the darkness for it will be a world of teh pain for teh me' because as nice as that is (and it is nice!) I just want to avoid making the mistakes of the past (which Germany wasn't able to do so why should I be any different?)

Are the any particular technical tricks that work a treat? Someone I should be sleeping with? (Because I tried that with my wife and it doesn't bring me any hits I can tell you).

And I promise promise promise this will be the last such whiny post until the next one.

Snarkeology is up

The new group blog Snarkeology is up!

And oh my God is it punk rock! (In a very minimal, early, garage band kind of way where everyone is 15 and the guitarist hasn't turned up yet because he has soccer practice).