Pamela Anderson Gala

So it turns out that watching Pamela Anderson do comedy is about as comfortable as having a proctological exam from Edward Scissorhands.

We squirmed, we twisted, we held up our hands in horror, we covered our ears at the deafening volume, then our mouths as she left her dancing partner on stage for what seemed like a week as she changed outfits, slowly.

Oh it was horrible. She dressed as a seal (to go clubbing, geddit), she danced (slowly) --- she wished she wasn't there. And the audience wished that they weren't either.

Minchin

I love Tim Minchin. I think that he's inventive and relevant and witty and in no way a modern day Richard Stilgoe passing time until the call comes from dictionary corner.

And Rove is the reason I moved to Australia. While I was out there checking out a job he interviewed Elmo - and we decided 'any place that has a place for this on TV is a place we'd want to live'

Jarred Christmas is from New Zealand, which might explain why his parents misspelled his first name. And why he does the occasional 'hobbit' joke... it's the law there. In the same way that a New York brick wall necessitates an opening that goes something like 'I know, I look like the bastard offspring of A list celebrity x and C list celebrity y' - so too do New Zealand comics need to talk Lord of the Rings.

As it happen Jarred was a very cool host for this, got the energy going, handled the bizarre heckler well and kept things on track. Rove looked like a millionaire TV producer trying to prove to himself that he'd still got stand up chops - he does but he has no material.


And Minchin, well he was good - and better than good when he was being venomous 'fuck you motherfucker' was genius.

Mighty Boosh?

So last night I took advantage of Zoofest's cheap tickets and went down to see Noel Fielding play a very small room, at 10.30pm in the Red Light District of Montreal.

And he was nae bad at all, actually.

It's weird to watch a comic morph from James Joyce "Stream of Conscience" nonsense verse "where's he going?" into more of a life experience "this happened to me" kind of act. It's a tricky tightrope but he's walking it quite well - dropping character occasionally, infusing the real life stuff with flights of fancy and generally trying to live up to the promise of his outfits.

It jars at times - Kiss at 6 years of age, sledding with kids at Xmas. Not bad gags but tonally very different to 'my neighbor the porcelain monkey with the wooden legs" for example

Still a decent night for twenty bucks... and the chance to see a 'big name' in a small venue

So it's finals day

The 'oh so close' Dutch against 'notorious chokers' Spain.
World Cup 2010
Final.

Or as Shakira 'sang' "Wikki, wacky, wah - ya, ooh, 'cause this is Africa"

Jude is fixing and ironing her oranje tops.
I'm running the washing machine

The temperature is high.
Nelson Mandela is under pressure to attend despite being 92, in mourning and ill-health and not wanting to.
There's oil spilling into the gulf.
Right wing parties are gaining traction around the world.

It's crazy.

Fantastic... right now off to one of Canada's many Irish pubs, in a French speaking part of town with a bunch of Germans

Hurrah