Sorrel’s Space

After the last couple of ranty blogs, I've decided to post a bit nicer one.
Today, I've been looking up tattoos for future purchasing, and whilst I was on the hunt, I came across some really funky and some really funny ones.

Less in letter form this time, more in rant.
Following on from my last little rant about the nightmare of a time I've had trying to sort out my Vodaphone bill, things have become just that little bit more annoying.
For starters, in case you didn't notice, a member of a "on line relations team" contacted me on here and twitter in a very grovelling manor and suggested I contact them to see how things could have gone better (like they could have gone any worse) and at the time of writing the blog I just wanted a place to vent, and no matter how much they tried to sooth my ego I wasn't about to take the blog down.
However, on Saturday morning (a day earlier than predicted) I got another call from the debt collection people. This time, they knew that they I'd paid £150, and they knew I didn't have to pay the cancellation fee, what I did still owe them was their £90 admin fee.
Fuck. That.
I'm not paying £90 admin fee for the admin on a debt I didn't even have.
The thing is, they knew I'd made a deal with Vodafone, or they would still be asking for £700, but the guy I spoke to kept saying there should never have been a deal, and he wanted names of people who'd made the deal.
To be honest, I'm not going to grass up the people at Vodafone who made me the deal, if it wasn't for them, I'd have to pay an arse load more.
So, I phone Vodafone back up and ask them what they were going to do about it.
"Well, we have to pass this on to our debt liaison team" who, you guessed it, weren't in that day. "I'll leave a note on your file, and we'll have this sorted out first thing Monday morning"
As a side note, this whole leaving notes on my file does very little, when I have to explain from the beginning every time I talk to a new person, which is every time I phone up. Which is getting to be, everyday.
Anyway, Monday morning rolls round, and guess who phones up. DLC debt collection agency and their demanding phone manor.
So I phone Vodafone up again (I think by now I warranted a free month of contract phone for all the calls I've made from my land line) only to be told that the person who said shed sort it out on Monday morning was a down right stinking liar. The woman I spoke to this time actually put me on hold (please get more than 2 tracks, I know them off by heart now) and spoke to the liaison people there and then, so no more calls from the Debt people. Hurrah.
However, what she did say was, drum roll please.. THE PAYMENT STILL HADN'T GONE THROUGH.
For fucks sake, it's been 11 days allowing for the fact I paid early Friday and phoned up late Monday.
So. If I hear any more from the debt people or vodafone (other than my monthly bill) I will scream.
And you can stick your phone. Up your arse.
Oh, I almost forgot, I sent the on line relations team a email on Sunday, yet to hear back from them. wonderful, speedy help there.

Dear Vodafone.
Can you please for the love of God sort out your accounts department.
I know you are one of the UK largest phone companies, but if you treat everyone like you've treated me over the last few months, you're gonna have none left.
Let me back track a bit.
This time last year I signed up a got a shiny Blackberry Storm on contract, upgraded from the pay as you go account I've had for nearly 10 years. Now at only £30 a month, I thought this was a fantastic deal, and I knew that my job would cover that. Unfortunately I lost my job meaning I was struggling to find enough money to pay this bill. I however did manage to sign on fairly quickly, so I thought everything would be fine.
Wrong.
Apparently the month that I was struggling with money, you decided to chuck on a handful of charges that I didn't deserve.
Now fair enough since then, you have written off those charges, after I kicked up the biggest fuss I know how, but because I didn't pay them right away, you stop my phone, then chuck on a termination fee.
Wait, hang on a minute, I still want my phone. I can still pay for my phone. Give me back my fucking phone.
Also, if you really thought I couldn't pay £30 a month, how on earth do you think I'm going to pay the £400 termination fee you've just sent me?
So after a few chats with Citizens Advice (my new best friends) you decided that I didn't need to pay the cancilation fee, just the £150 worth of months I hadn't paid (because this has been going on since April, I've missed paying you a truck load of months) and if I paid this over 3 months, we'd be cool again.
Wrong.
I sent off my first months payment (by post, ok my mistake) and phone you up a week after to check that it had got to you, and see if I could at least get incoming calls back on my phone, to which the vague guy on the other end said it was "in the system" and would be processed in a couple of days. Fine.
So you must understand my supprise when 2 days later a letter from a debt collection agency appeard on my doorstep.
But...I paid!
Also, I you said I had to pay £50 a month, and it's not the end of the month, how on earth is it late?!
AND WHY, WHEN THE LETTER IS DATED ON A MONDAY, AND I PHONE UP ON THE FOLLOWING WEDNSDAY, DID YOU NOT SAY ANYTHING WAS WRONG!?!?!?
Right, another 30 phone calls, to try and find out if this is salvagable, or if you've left me with the choices:
A) Pay £780 to the Debt people and not get my phone back
or
B) Pay £650 to Vodaphone and not get my phone back
Thankfully, someone who spoke sense in your offices (lets face it, law of averages says their must be at least one) offered an option C) for me to pay the £150 in one lump sum, and you could re-connect my phone and get the debt lot off my back.
Righto, down I march to the Barclays and pay £150 into your holding account, then marched into one of your local branches to get someone there to bear witness to the recipt saying you have money from me.
All fine and dandy you say.
Wait a couple of day for it to clear you say.
Then I can have my phone back you say.
Marvolous.
So I phone up one of your lovely team this Tuesday, and she said even though the money hasn't cleared she can see that the money has been paid (By cash so there's no chance of a cheque bouncing) so I can have my phone reconnected now, and everything is happy.
WRONG.
3 Days. 3 FUCKING days later, my phone has mysteriously been disconnected again.
What. The. Fuck.
The reason she gave was "there's a late payment of £150 on this acc..." she never even got to the end of the sentance before I exploded down the phone, to which I apologise as she did reconnect my phone.
But you know the money is in there, there's witnesses to prove the money is in there, and why the hell does it take TEN DAYS for a cash payment to clear? It doesn't take that long for a cheque to clear. UGH.
So ten days from Friday is the next Monday. So I'm expecting my phone to be disconected again Sunday.
Go on. Prove me wrong.

• I've started and already given up on Nanowrimo, as work has, not so much prevented me from being at my computer, so much as prevented my brain from working. Pity, as it was good novel with lots of deaths. Would have been fun to see what my brain farted out over 30 days.

• Popcorn is a little bit addictive.

• 3D week? I'm never gonna remember that Channel 4, and I'll be pissed if I turn on the Simpsons and find I can't see a damn thing thats going on, even if I have seen it 100 times before.

• I've added a forum to my website: Jon Forum

• To that note, Jon was fan-fucking-tastic on NMTB last week.

• Why can't I get over this crappy crush. It really is like an illness, it's getting to the point I can't work without thinking silly things. Ugh. Damn female emotions.

• Already purchased 2 Christmas presents, and planned the rest of them. How organised it that!

• Macbeth is going swimmingly, thanks for asking. I've managed to cobble together a rough lighting plan, no doubt though a few people will have their own ideas which they can shove up their own arses. Filming on Monday was probably some of the best ear splitting fun I've had in a long time, and I can now add bullet making to my CV.

• I've written up birthday weekend blog on paper. Who knows, I might actually type it up some point. Right after I do last years Latitude and last years Edinburgh. Which are also on bits of paper hidden in a nice little folder.

So yeah, thats life.
But thats what a lot of people say.

I love meeting random strangers. So much so I've started activly seeking them out on omegle
Here is some highlights:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: hi
You: hey
Stranger: from? ^^
You: UK here, how about you?
Stranger: Germany
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
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You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: Hey
You: hiya
Stranger: Are you older than 25?
You: nope
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hi
Stranger: want to talk dirty?
You have disconnected.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hi
Stranger: hi
You: how goes it?
Stranger: how goes it?
You: Heh, it goes good. How are you?
Stranger: Heh, it goes good. How are you?
You: Echo...
Stranger: poop...
You: Is it a whole pile?
You: Or just a stain?
Stranger: a metric fuck ton
You: Not an ass load then?
Stranger: much more
You: Beautiful.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.
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Fun Fun Fun

This time, armed with sleep, I managed to get up AM, woohoo.

As there wasn’t a great deal to be done on zero money, Nic and I decided a day of vegging out with comedy DVDs was in order. Dara O’Briain Talks Funny, which I don’t own, so was great fun to watch, Alan Davies Urban Trauma, which was mine (As a side note, I think I’m the only person that still owns this, and I know I’m the only person to own the Live at the Lyric VHS. I paid a bloody fortune for that) and later Jeff Green Back from the Bewilderness, also mine.

Onto the reason I came up to Sheffield in the first place (other than to spend some time with a like minded comedy friend) Ross Noble hosting Riders for health. You can read more about this charity here

Now, up until a couple of days before I left, they hadn't released the line up, which in my mind either meant it was gonna be shit, or gonna be super.

Turns out it was a happy combination of them both.
*I'd just like to take this opportunity to say it's been 2 weeks, and I have a crap memory for the order of things, but I do remember the sets quite well*
Ross started off the night by telling people how to piss themselves, and how shit Nick Griffin looked on Newsnight, and somehow Ross got his shirt caught on the microphone and started parading about the stage.

Toby Foster.
Just because he organised most of the festival, he thinks he's the best thing to happen to planet earth since sliced bread. NEWS FLASH. No he's not. He's like a slightly younger Bernard Manning, and I had a full blown party when he died, if somehow Toby can disappear before next years festival, I'll at least break out the dance machine.

Everly Pregnant Brothers
I'll be honest, the title didn't inspire me with much confidence, bad plays on words shit me up something rotten. So it came as no surprise to me, when 5 of them came out and sat on chairs, Toby Foster joined them and they preceded to play the worst pop songs known to mankind (I will survive, 6"2 eyes of blue) changing a grand total of one word in each. I don't like parodies at the best of times, doubly when they aren't even proper parodies. Ugh.
Thank god for the distraction of Ross in between acts of I may have walked there and then. The second part involved him putting the mic stand in his fly’s and pole dancing with it. Much to our amusement, but probably down right annoying for the next act who had to wait ages for him to sod off,

Next act was Idiot of Ants, who I'd heard a hell of a lot about since Melbourne, I remember lots of people ranting and raving about their show, and I was not disappointed. Lovely (if not slightly sexist) routine about a hen party who get a sex change, and the Guantanamo camp for an education in crappy dad jokes (Have a nice trip, send us a postcard) Without a doubt some of the best sketch comedy I've seen in a long time.

After the designated piss break was the raffle (Top/only prize was an afternoon go-karting with Ross and any others of the line-up that could be dragged along) It's a shame that the person who won it didn't sound totally thrilled, I'd have been jumping up and down like a loon.

Anyhow, penultimate act was the lovely Bernie Clifton who I was convinced was dead, so when the first words out of his mouth were "Bet you thought I was dead" Nic and I almost pissed ourselves laughing. The usual riding around on his ostrich and his not so normal riding about on a nun, and giving a truck load of gifts to one poor woman on the front row (including a massive inflatable of himself)
How do you follow that as a headline act I hear you say? Well by none other than

EDDIE IZZARD!
So happy to finally see Eddie live, and he was fantastic. He had great fun talking about the Romans and the big swords they used to have, which lead to an extended routine about people trying to kill themselves by impaling themselves onto the end of it and moving slowly up the blade. Ok so Eddie material doesn't transcript very well. The thing that made me chuckle the most was him saying that if God has this wonderful plan it's unfolding very much like he hasn't got a plan. And if he did have a plan, why did he not just ping Hitler’s head off!

After the show, my feet were insanely achy (turns out I had a pair of flat shoes with me the whole time, but FORGOT I'd packed them) but we did hang around long enough to see everyone leave. Lots of restraint not to punch Toby, amusing to see St Johns ambulance crew leaving shortly after Bernie, and, the wonderful Eddie Izzard stopped to sign and take pictures. Now, I think anyone who hangs around after is lovely, but doubly for this guy, he's Hollywood, he had a tour bus waiting for him, could more than happily have sodded off but he didn't. Bravo.
 

After a bit of wine and some munchies back at Nics it was bed time, thus ending my comedy adventures for the year. At least for now!

So. Megabusty to Sheffield wasn't too bad, managed to nab myself a double seat and a couple of hours sleep.
Nic kindly met me off the bus, as I have zero sense of direction in places I know, yet alone those that I don't. Went for a quick fry-up to cure her hangover and my lack of sleep then back to hers for a nap. I was only planning for an hour to remind my body how to function. Turns out my body had other ideas and I didn't wake up till 4PM leaving me just enough time to shovel food down my neck and get dolled up into my costume

I refuse to believe that anyone who knows me well enough to read my blog wont have seen Rocky Horror at least once or on the other end of the scale, have seen it live and know the whole "alternative script" off by heart and have found themselves in Fishnet stockings and shiny clothes

I was with Nic (obviously) and Nic's mum and sister, how great a family is that. Just an iota of thought about my mum in that get up leaves me reaching for the eye bleach.
Anyhoo, for those of you unfamiliar with the rules, here's what happens:
You get a bag of props including "slut" and "Arsehole" cards to be used (and shouted) every time someone on screen said "Brad" or "Janet" (though some people couldn't grasp this and shouted every time they were on screen) along with booing every time Dr Scott was on screen, whooping every time Rocky was on screen, and shouting "WHERE'S YOUR NECK" every time the Pathologist appeared (again, some people got it wrong and booed him).
Other props included a rubber glove to be snapped every time Frank did, a news paper to shelter on when it rained (and someone behind us had a water pistol) and a party popper for when they are "cooooming"!
Anyway, I sang my little heart out, getting rid of all the missed months of Karaoke and singing lessons, but I was so beat after the lack of sleep and my shoes, sexy as they were, ripped my feet to shreds, so no drink was on the cards that night, just an early bed to be alive and well for tomorrow

Despite physically not being able to get out of bed Friday (and most of Thursday) I managed to prop myself up on a bus and head to London.
After loitering in McDonalds for a couple of hours (In a corner with two other asleep people) I got in touch with Linzy and went for a coffee and a catch up (2 month worth of talking) and for some Tru Blood goodies from Liza. After a brief stop at the worlds smallest Travelodge and the world’s only veggie Nandos, we headed off to the Hammersmith Apollo.

Now, as *avid* readers of my blog will know I live in the arse end of nowhere and subsequently the theatre I work at is tiny. As in, you could lose my theatre in the Hammersmith 360 times over. This scares the HOLY SHIT outta me. Needless to say Tim was on cracking form and didn’t subject me to the shiny leggings he'd worn the night before

The only slight hiccup was on "If I didn't have you" where he managed to start the wrong verse, but the relentless backing singers soon told him he was wrong. This is totally and un-biasdly believes do not believe was Tim's fault, but rather brings me onto a rant about the crappyness of the show from a technical point of view.

My new theory is: The bigger the theatre, the less people cares.

1. Related to my last point, Tim didn't have a monitor at the front of stage. He had one by the piano, all well and good, but Tim does 3 numbers away from that one, so why was there not one anywhere else. I think this is what lead Tim to being a beat behind in some of the songs (gonna take some cracking editing there) and probably lead to his error in If I didn't have you.
2. Feedback/Cracking on the mic. I refuse to believe a venue of that size and with that amount of money has such shit microphone that they can be interfered by passing taxis.
3. If you're going to have big fancy pyros on stage, try not to set the performer alight.
4. And this pissed me off all evening. One light (A par-can) was flickering whilst we were taking our seats. The same light then proceeded to flicker all the time the show was on and even when every other light was off. PULL THE FUCKING PLUG.
These are all relatively minor annoyances but seeing as it's a DVD recording you'd think they'd put in a tiny bit of effort. Oh No No No.
Anyhoo, it was a good show deserving of the two standing ovations it got. Tim didn't come out after the show so I couldn't moan at him for not coming out after the last gig.

NOW. If you are my parents. Stop reading. If you are someone I work with. Stop reading. If you are someone who even remotely gives a damn about me. Stop reading.
This is where it gets a bit hairy. Because I was a fool and left all my planning till the last second, I had nowhere to sleep and even though Shell offered, their room really was too small so I decided to have a kip in the train station for 8 hours. Bad move. First I sat in a quiet corner near the baggage collection, till a nice security man kicked me (& others) out. So I moved round the other side. Till a nice security woman kicked EVERYONE out. It was only for two hours; maybe they had to clean up the Saturday night puke. But this opened up the floodgates for a creepy guy to ask me where I was staying, and then follow me outside. Now I only went round the corner where a shuttle bus went every half hour, so there was plenty of people, but this guy would not take no for an answer. So I resorted to my usual method of fixing things and yelled at him. Thus grabbing the attention of the people around me and making the guy bolt.
2 Hours later and I was happily back in the "warmth" of the station, still with 7 hours to go. Because the F'ing clocking went back an hour. AGH. To compensate for this though, there was much hilarity at the coach station.
A big angry dude came rushing in and started banging on the doors, screaming and just generally being as obnoxious as possible. So a megabus driver calmly opened the door:
Man: "What the fuck, why isn't the door opened to the bus, what sorta shit service are you running, it's gone 8 man"
Driver: "Can I see your ticket please"
Man: *Hands over*
Driver: *Rips up ticket* Don't you dare come battering my door down again. It's 7 not 8 because the clocks have gone back an hour. Now get lost.
*Round of applause from nearby affected*

DAY 3
Somehow I managed to get my hands on a ticket for a special extra added date to the next show, which is a miracle, as they normally sell out in about 10 seconds flat.

Paul Merton’s Impro Chums:

Paul Merton, Richard Vranch, Suki Webster, Mike McShane and Tim *Someone* made up the crew, and by hell was this one of the funniest shows I've seen in a while. The Tim bloke, who was the only one I'd never heard of before, was amazingly good, if not slightly rude for a mid-day show. Paul was on wonderful form too, and I found out he's now married to Suki. Pity! (Just kidding).
Now for my first (and only) mistake of the whole weekend, I went to my next booking.

The Oxford Imps:

I was sold to these people by a friend of a friend, as I'm a fan of Impro comedy. Yes, I normally am, and I think if I had seen them any other day or any other time other than an hour after I had seen the king of impro comedy that is Paul Merton, they would have been quite good. A couple of them were very funny, the keyboardist was very good. The others (especially/predictably the American) were making up for lack of talent with an abundance of enthusiasm. This just didn’t cut it for me. Also, they stole, and I do mean word for word, a game from Pauls show (The game was a challenge to tell a story on the spot, if they stopped even for a second or stumbled over their words (No hesitation, deviation or repetition, hang on, that’s stolen too) the audience had to shout DIE very loudly at them. Which I did quite happily. Because they should be hung for stealing ideas)
Seeing as it was raining non-stop (Welcome to Edinburgh) and I was trudging my home/backpack round the place with me, I thought I'd sit in a cafe and let the world go by for a couple of hours. However, I totally forgot that it was a Sunday, and I'm sure the cafe wanted to close about 3 hours before I arrived. Meh. Either way, I killed enough time to get in a series of free shows before Karaoke Circus.

OCD - Truly Madly Neatly
Turns out free doesn't mean rubbish, as this show was hilarious, if not making me look slightly harder at the "quirks" I have and decided that I probably am quite OCD. Meh Meh. I was quite happy to throw a few quid in the bucket on the way out.

Robin Ince Vs The Moral Majority
Defiantly not rubbish. In a room hotter than hell itself, this whole show was brought about by the Guardian writing a what’s hot and what’s not column and "Comedians who attack the Daily Mail" were not hot, take note Marcus Brigstock and Robin Ince. So he decided to attack the Guardian instead. I have to agree with Robin on most things, I can't open any paper without yelling at most of the articles, even in my local one, too many things are ridiculous if you look at them in depth. Also made me wish I'd seen his science show earlier on in the day, there’s some books I defiantly need to get my hands on. Or his book club show. Or his Bleeding heart liberal show. And I would be seeing him later on in Karaoke Circus. That man isn't going to be happy till he's killed himself. Still, all in the name of comedy.

After the show, I was hanging around to see the show directly after it, and ended up talking to Peter Buckly-Hill the founder of Free Fringe, and Robin came up too, trying to convince Peter to come along, without really know what time it was or what venue it was in. So I flyered him for it, and told him I'd see him later.

PBH:
I learnt my lesson last time, and plonked myself right by a fan for the next two hours. Peter, was very funny, playing a few songs on his guitar, and although I can't remember a huge amount about the guests he had up (other than the Aussie who broke one of the fans in the room, (luckily not the one I was near or he'd have got it) and an American who pretty much was the anti-Kilstine routine, which needless to say I didn't take on board too much). Also had a chat with him, and promised to have a look at helping him out next year, I don't mind volunteering my help to a good cause.

Karaoke Circus:

Finally! Such a cracking line-up, I don't know why everyone who came to see comedy over the month wasn't there, there really was something for everyone.
Robin Ince started off the night, as promised, with Barry Mannilows Copacabana, turns out he's quite a good singer.
Someone else was next murdering Beautiful, originally by Christina Aguilera
A open mic spot filled by someone doing Video Killed the Radio Star, and sounding a carbon copy of the original
Simon Amstell. Meh. Hero. Meh. For someone who hosts(ed) a music quiz he really was quite bad.
Pippa Evans
Pappy's Fun Club
Andrew Collins - I remember lipstick.
Another open mic - Come on Eileen
Carry Quinnilan - Born to run
Tom Stade and someone else
Someone else
Open mic of Eternal Flame (*Growl* My song)
Richard Herring - This town ain't big enough for the both of us (Strangely being the singer of a Sparks song whilst looking like the keyboard player *shrug*)
Someone else doing a duet
You can tell by this point in the night, I was getting quite drunk, there was a few other songs, none of which I sung. I did warn Martin, I'll keep turning up like a bad penny till they let me sing, then realised, that’s not a very serious threat for someone that wants to sell tickets. Lets hope I can make to the next one after all that. Oh and I did get a hug, which according to a few people, is a rarity. I shall treasure it.

So, there endeth the weekend (which was Monday morning by this point) and I went directly to the train station with the full drunken intention of falling asleep in the train station for a couple of hours. Instead I managed to wrangle my way onto an earlier train, so I slept on that instead. Almost missing my stop, and actually leaving my booky wook behind. Now I shall never know if he dies at the end.
Next stop, Cromer Pier!
(Because that can really compare)