Back on the radio

I've been on the radio again

http://myfirstgig.podbean.com/2009/11/25/my-first-gig-with-catie-wilkins/

I am a right radio star.

Proof if Proof be need be

I am in many ways a shy and idiotic person. It often takes me four encounters of meeting the same person before I actually speak to them. I think this is partly because I like to prolong the blank canvas period, before they work out I am a dick head. Obviously the not speaking aspect makes me look like a dick head all the more. But you try telling a dick head that. They won't listen.

Anyway. The upshot is, unless I am drunk I don't really like meeting new people. I like the people I already know, who have forgiven my shortcomings and have to put up with me. It's much easier to talk to them. Or if I do have to meet new people. I like it to be on my own terms, where I have some semblance of control over the situation, and I am less likely to feel massively inappropriate to whatever the situation is.

For example: After a good gig = a good time to meet a new person. At a much more successful friends gig, where no one knows I do comedy and look at me like I am some kind of sad groupie = a bad time to meet a new person. Arriving at a party in the middle of a row with a loved one = a bad time to meet a new person. It is not rocket science, though that would also be a good place to meet a new person.

Anyway. I met my neighbour some time ago when going out of my front door to go for a run. Bad hair and very unfashionable, budget running outfit (because I am poor) = bad time to meet a new person. I've felt on the back foot with him ever since. Plus he is a 'geezer' who is very proud of his disposition towards drinking. Being on the back foot, I accidentally told him I did comedy when responding to his litany of questions, which I think he took as a challenge to be funnier than I could ever dream of being, and to prove himself more of a daredevil. Though his dare-deviling is mainly copious drinking. (Like I can talk).

Anyway, I have since been duty bound to say hello and wave at him every time he catches my eye as I go past him. This has been essentially a friendly and nice thing to do, though there was something I didn't like about it. But I couldn't put my finger on what. He was being friendly. Why did it feel aggressive? I suppose he vaguely reminded me of the man I used to live next door to in Ware that I could hear through the wall shouting at and hitting his kids. But that wasn't this mans fault.

Anyway. The other night, after some drinks I got some late night chips on my way home in Camden. I was one of the last customers, as they were about to close, but the men behind the counter were really friendly, and said it wouldn't take too long as I waited for my chips. They were clearing away all the other food and cleaning up.

Then my neighbour, the passive, aggressive geezer came in. Obviously on one of his legendary benders. He didn't see me in the corner and marched in, loudly demanding a kebab. The man said they had stopped serving. 'What?' shouted my neighbour. The man repeated that they were closed. 'What? Give me a fucking kebab!'

'No. Go away. We are closed. Thank you.' Said the man.

'What? Don't talk to me like that! Give me a fucking kebab or I'll kick your fucking face in!' Responded my neighbour.

'Thank you. Get out. Good bye. Fuck off.' Said the man, though quite politely.

'What?' Shouted my neighbour, though obviously recognising defeat, he stumbled towards the door muttering more threats. 'I'll kick your fucking face in if you talk to me like that.' He left. And the last thing I heard was 'Face in'

But I feel he has been un-masked. My instincts are better than I thought they were.

The chips were the best chips in Camden. I'd recommend them to all sober and drunk people. Unless you become capable of GBH when inebriated. In which case leave these nice men alone.

Podcast resuscitated the radio star

It's real! I am on the radio! I am now Catie Wilkins from off of the radio!

You can listen to me too for one week only:

http://www.abc.net.au/triplej/safran/

Click 'listen' & select 'Sunday Safran' I'm at 1.25.50 mins in. I finish at 1.32.00 minutes in. It was a brutal and awe inspiring 4 minutes I can tell you.

Having now heard it myself, I don't think it was as bad as I feared. I think I do sound a bit ill, but I think I managed to keep my deliriousness under my hat, and actually answered roughly the questions that I was asked.

They should totally let me on the radio more often. I mean, that was me ill, (on say a 4) imagine if I was well (on say a 10) I would be brilliant!

(Ignore the fact I said um quite a lot - that was the illness)

Today, the radio, tomorrow who knows!

(well probably more admin work and lots more rejection, but ignore that)

I am on the radio!

Next Norwich trip

It is important to have things to look forward to. Especially when you are in the business of constant knock-backs. I mean, that's not the official title of the business that I am in, but it would be more honest.

But anyway, I have made plans that would cheer even the least cheery person. Whoever they are. Could be Simon Cowell I suppose. All right, these plans might not cheer him, or other people that have the 'evil' gene, but they would cheer your average civilian who has been snubbed 20 times in a row by people who think they're better than her, but aren't necessarily.
I am soon off to see my favourite baby. This is a picture of me with her here. (It was taken the day after Edinburgh, when I had a month long hangover).

How could anyone look at that little face and not feel instantly better about the world. That is the question.

And when my plan comes to fruition and I visit the baby in December, we are going to take her swimming too.

So now all I have to do is get my train tickets. I do hope they're not sold out and I'm knocked back from the purchase.

Proof

I didn't dream it

http://www.abc.net.au/triplej/safran/

I don't think it's been broadcast yet if it's on Sunday. I'm no mathematician.

nobody killed the radio - its still there

Despite being ill (I have a stupid cold at the moment which I have accidentally aided and abetted by drinking alcohol and over working) (Though it really should have gone by now, I've been taking vitamin c and lemsip and strepsils and I've even eaten fruit. But no, I am still head achy and dizzy and weak and coughing. I've done everything you're meant to do) (apart from the aforementioned drinking and overworking) (and it wasn't even that much drinking) (It was quite a lot of working though).

So anyway, despite being ill, I got up at 9.15 am this morning (when I could have had my first lie in for ages) to do a radio interview for an Australian radio station about my contribution to the Atheists Guide To Christmas.

I could have been sleeping and recuperating, but I selflessly woke up to answer my phone and talk to strangers. I only care about helping people. Also it was the first time anyone has ever asked me to do anything like that.

The organizer said they had asked for me because they liked my contribution so much. I don't know what it says about me, but I immediately thought 'well that can't be true' they're just saying that because all the other contributors are busier than I am. But let's pretend it is true.

I am rubbish at PR and I can't remember for sure the name of the radio station, but I think it was ABC (which if I am right is like the BBC in Australia) and this particular branch of it was triple J (again - I think that's what they said) (I was ill and tired and delirious) but whatever it was, it was a youth station with indie music, and the presenters of this show were apparently a 75 year old Jew and and 45 year old Christian. Or a 45 year old Jew and 75 Catholic.

To be honest, this is starting to sound more and more like I dreamt it. But I'm 75% sure I didn't. No, 45%.

Um, anyway. They were very nice to me whatever demographic they were from. I don't feel like I did the best job in the world. I wasn't 100% in the zone as it were, (but I am really ill godammit) I didn't tell them that though. I said I felt great. So they will just have to assume that my rambling is due to my personality. Which it mainly is I suppose.

Anyway, it only lasted a few minutes and I can't really remember what happened. I hope they weren't disappointed that I wasn't very funny. They seemed to like the fact that I had sent a Christmas card to the devil, and then later in my piece argued that it was ironically one of the most Christian things you can do. I didn't provide any further insights into anything though.

Anyway, I have been on the radio.

Timmy Mallet

You should never meet your heros. Or have to watch them age and go on reality TV programes. They should stay young and 80's forever and no one should ever die. Michael Jackson is just a bit poorly. He'll be back in a minute.

Anyway, I've realised that I could never take Take That seriously because of the influence of Timmy Mallet on my young impressionable, impressed by jokes mind. (I may have written about this before but I don't think I have).

Basically, I used to love Timmy Mallet. When I was six I thought he was the funniest man in the world. He was deliberately silly and annoying, and those were two of my own favorite activities.

He once went to Thai land, wearing loads of ties. That is a long way to go for such a stupid joke. That is commitment to nonsense.

Another time they sent him to Kenya, and he just kept going up to people saying, 'Kenya believe it?' Again, a lot of people might make that joke, but to actually bother to go to Kenya to make it, is so bad, it's good again.

Anyway, then New Kids On The Block came out, and Timmy Mallet called them 'New Kids Off Their Block' (do you see what he did there?) This was biting, cutting edge social satire for the under tens. I thought it was brilliant.

I laughed at New Kids On The Block. I found them foolhardy. My leading satirist had pricked the pomposity of prancing about in a boy band, and they disappeared back to America.

Then Take That came out, who seemed very similar to New Kids On The Block, except English.

'That can't work' I thought, 'Timmy Mallet won't stand for this. I wonder what hilarious name he will come up with that will send them packing, and then we'll only have people in the charts that can actually play music again'

But unfortunately, by then I had turned 11 and started secondary school, and everyone inexplicably loved Take That. People were swapping posters of Mark Owen and trying to teach me the dance to Pray.

'What is going on?' I thought. 'This is ridiculous. Why aren't we laughing at Take That? Why isn't everyone laughing? They're a vain, poncy, boy band; prancing around like idiots. I do hope this pop band nonsense doesn't kick off in a big way, or I am going to have a very alienating teenage-hood.'

All right, I didn't think that last one. But that is actually what happened.