We may as well get some use out of that “posts that obliquely reference the writers’ sex lives” tag. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I’ve slept with a lot of girls who’ve slept with stand-up comedians. I appreciate that every schlubby guy in the UK is getting Richard Herring’s sloppy seconds, but there was a point in my life where I had a moment of clarity and thought “wow, I’m sexually related to 50% of Pappy’s Fun Club. I should probably do the next 30 years gay.”
I’d advise dating girls who used to go out with stand-ups, though, because anything you do seems like a massive achievement to them, as circuit comedians are literally the worst human beings in Britain. If you can cook a basic meal for two, remember their flatmate’s name, make it through three minutes of sex without breaking down into tears… you’ll seem more impressive than their ex.
Which is why I don’t hate Frankie Boyle, because he clearly hates himself more than I ever could. He wants to be an outsider, and yet he’s the ur-circuit comic. He wants to be Lenny Bruce plus Jerry Sadowitz multiplied by fucking Hasil Adkins or something, and yet you can buy his DVD at Tesco and his biography at The Works. His brain has ruptured to the point where he can only think in TV panel show responses, everything is shorter than three lines and contains a tortured reference to contemporary events. So, obviously, Twitter is a place for him to thrive in his own shit, like a plant that’s learnt how to defecate.
For ages Boyle used that legendary image of Malcolm X palming the shotty as his Twitter avatar, suggesting there was some direct lineage between one of the true greats of revolutionary black thought and a guy who used to work with Russell Howard. He’s got a point though, most of us will remember that classic line from Malky’s “Message to the Grass Roots” where he looked over the top of his glasses, paused for a few seconds and said “have you ever noticed how much Ella Baker’s face looks like a baked potato that’s been in the oven for too long?”
Seriously, though, fuck Frankie Boyle. Fuck his inability to make a decent joke, and fuck his inability to take them. For a man so keen to PUSH THE BOUNDARIES (which effectively translates as him wanting to say “nigger” on TV and point out how Olympic swimmers aren’t that attractive), he’s notoriously chippy when anyone makes a few gags about alcoholism.
And let us not forget the fantastic moment when he stormed out to decry people mocking Occupy protestors for all being middle class dudes with poor hygiene, as apparently that makes us a “tool of the man”. As opposed to writing a Channel 4 show where one of the key jokes was “blind black people are very likely to start raping their own mother”.
As a side note, the #hiphopthursdays he does are absolutely hilarious insofar as they resemble the kind of music a cratedigger would have tried to play at you in your second year of university circa 2002. I can actually feel my skin getting pastier every time he offers a track up, and the body odour of Britain increasing every time he’s on some “let’s all listen to The Coup and Immortal Technique, guys!” tip.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin = Paedophile
Gepetto from Pinocchio was a pedophile. Suddenly a wee boy lived with him & he said to his friends “Don’t listen to him - he tells lies”
In a saner world, we’d sentence paedophiles to standing in a pool & having Katie Ledecky swim through their heart like a torpedo #TeamGB