Good to get the titters out there excited about what my orange bird might have been. I am not sure but it might be
an Orange Chat or, I think more likely
the Madagascar Fody. Personally I can't believe there is more than one orange bird in the world. Incredible.
And on getting to the end of Peter Kay's genuinely astonishing book I discovered my powers of parody were even better than I thought, as he ends up going on about the Bolton Odeon a lot (I just made that up not being sure Bolton would have had an Odeon) and mourning the fact that it became a bingo hall, but also that the other cinema in town became a Laserquest. How good am I?
By the end of the book I am more fascinated by Peter Kay than I have ever been in my life and think I might actually need to buy his latest book to see what happens next. Kay manages to build up the jobs he had as a student (where admittedly it looks like he worked pretty hard to get through college, working three jobs at once, which is admirable) into making him look like a working class hero who has struggled his way to the top. Whereas the book reveals that he had no such struggle as a comedian. Despite his good fortune he uses the book to settle some scores, against bosses that he managed to humiliate and triumph over (Kay pretty much always wins in his stories, which all read like comedy routine versions of life and may not therefore be taken as gospel) and most ungraciously against his stand up tutor at college. One would imagine that a stand up teaching comedy in a small college might not have been the greatest of successes on stage, but Kay obviously didn't get on with the guy and delights in his later discovery that despite the tutor's claims to have been a regular at the Comedy Store, Ben Elton and Alexei Sayle confirm that he didn't always go down that well. Which isn't only kicking the tutor while he's down, but also slightly dropping the others in it. There's a schadenfreude there that seems unpleasant and unnecessary give Kay's massive success. He could afford to be gracious or even pretend to be grateful or at least not mention the man by name. And when you read the story of how Kay "improved" a dull performance of "The Crucible" at college by ending the play with a performance of "It's Witchcraft", you can see why he might have rubbed people up the wrong way. In his version he is of course the hero, but I am sure opinion would have been divided on that issue at the time.
Kay got a lot of his comedy from observing real life characters and writing down what they said (even taping them) which is a clever and valid way to write, but by the end of the book I felt that the most interesting person to base a comedy character on would be Kay himself. I am fascinated by comedians and well aware that I exhibit a lot of the neuroses and insecurities and arrogance and lack of self-awareness that I enjoy pointing out in others. And don't mistake my fascination for bitterness - I am well passed that these days as I like where I am and what I am doing and wouldn't change places with your Kays or your Macintyres and know (and actually hope) that I will never have that broad appeal. I just want to keep the 30,000 twats who like my stuff happy. But when a comedian writes about themselves in this much detail they do end up revealing stuff about themselves that perhaps they didn't intend - again there is a pot and kettle situation coming up and I can't help wondering how people will react to my book when it comes out in May. I think I am hopefully more balanced and less self-aggrandising and happier to point out my flaws and mistakes than crow about my successes.
But I couldn't help thinking that I might be able to write something about a comedian not entirely unlike Kay, because he is funny in unintentional ways in this book, a bit of a mummy's boy in quite an endearing, but odd way and perhaps trumpeting his successes because of the insecurity that he does at least admit to.
And my fascination, of course, comes from the fact that I know there are similarities with myself. But I feel fortunate that I had some failure and some struggle in my career which has made me less of a mummy's boy than I was and hopefully a little more modest and realistic about my own abilities. Kay had done four gigs when he won a major competition in the North West (somehow beating Johnny Vegas - judges of that night, you have a lot to answer for) and everything pretty much fell into his lap from there on in. I have a feeling that a comedian needs a bit of failure and a few kicks while he or she is down to get any good. If it all just lands in your lap then you perhaps start to believe that everything you do is brilliant and you develop a sense of entitlement, which the battered and the bruised journeyman comedian knows is bullshit. But it's also just a way to hide the insecurity: the fear you might be found out at any moment and that maybe you'll run out of ideas.
I don't know. All this has got me thinking anyway, which is annoying because I am supposed to be on holiday. But that's always the way with being away and relaxed - the ideas start flowing. I also started writing up an idea I've had for a children's book today. I realised that I shouldn't be thinking of stopping my blog when I am on holiday - not only is it a fruitful time for ideas, but it's easy to spare 45 minutes to write something up when you've got nothing to do. The real idiocy of this blog is the times I have kept it going when I am already up to my ears in work and deadlines.
I hate Andrew Collings though because thanks to his thoughtless Christmas gift I am now going to have buy Kay's next book for research purposes. And my obsession will only grow. And I'll get more tweets from people telling me what a bitter twat I am.
