Can it really be five years, to the day, that I first put pen to computer and started writing this blog? Five years since this blogs humble beginnings with a small post about seeing a man getting a BJ in the street right around the corner from Strathclyde police headquarters?
Back then my head swam with the endless possibilities for a young man, reasonably well educated, and with his whole blog ahead of him. For I had not long arrived in the big city, where I hoped to find adventure and seek my fortune. A fortune so large that I could return to my village, with a hero’s welcome, kick that fat squire out on his backside, and reinstate my family to their rightful place as members of society.
That day would come, of that I was of no doubt, but for now I concerned myself with more concerning matters. I had heard that there was work to be had for ambitious comedy writers down the docks.
The port was a hive of activity, with sailors, joiners, boatswains, pilots, wheel tappers, powder monkeys, barrel makers and coopers all buzzing about. The first ship I tried my luck aboard was a four masted frigate The Dandy Nicholls. I inquired after the ship’s captain, and was pointed in the direction of a bluff old sea dobber by the name of Captain Nobeard.
“Arrrrrse. So, ye be a wanting a job aboard The Dandy Nicholls eh?” said the Captain “Tell me lad what experience do ye have?”
“Well sir. I’ve written for several high profile comedians and a number of TV comedy shows.”
“Have ye ever written a sketch about a woman coming home and finding her husband in bed with a grizzly bear?”
“Why yes sir. Several times”
“Let me finish boy! Have you ever written a sketch about a woman coming home and finding her husband in bed with a grizzly bear, during a force ten gale in the middle of the Sargasso sea, with fifty foot waves crashing all around you and 5.30pm deadline?”
“Well no sir. But I’m sure I could think of a punchline if you’d just give-”
“I’m sorry lad. There be over a hundred sailors aboard this vessel. I can’t take that chance”.
The story was the same aboard every ship I visited. Tired and rejected I sought respite in a small tavern. It was a rough sort of place but after dining on bread and cheese my spirits lifted and I consoled myself that perhaps a life joke writing upon the high seas wasn’t for me. Besides writing topical one liners aboard a schooner bound for the Indies would be at least a six year voyage, and I did not relish the thought of leaving behind my darling Gemimimima in the clutches of that black hearted rogue of a squire.
I was aroused from my ruminations by a kerfuffle that had broken out near the fire.
“I say, what’s going on? What are those swarthy looking gentlemen up to” I enquired of a comely serving wench.
“Pressgang” she replied.
“The early 90s, youth orientated comedy drama series with Julia Sawalha?”
“No silly. Those men work for the shipping companies. Why pay to have comedy writer aboard your boat when there are so many out of work writers they can pressgang into working for free?”
“The scoundrels! Shouldn’t we go and help that fellow?”
“Not unless you want to be writing mildly amusing letters to the Metro, from the cargo hold of a dutch clipper, for the rest of your life. If you value your freedom you’d best follow me!”.
I did as she instructed and followed her through a doorway at the back of the Inn, whereupon we found ourselves in a quiet alleyway.
“Now suppose you give me what’s in your trousers”
I must confessed I was much taken a back by this unusual request.
“Madam I hardly know you”.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way”
I shrugged my shoulders “Erm. The hard way?”
And with that I felt a sharp blow from behind.
I don’t know how long I was out for but I awoke to find a elderly gentleman, who’s attire suggested he was a man of some standing, standing above me.
“Are you alright?” he enquired with a tone of concern “I found you lying here. I thought at first that perhaps you were dead”.
"Perhaps I am". My head throbbed but my first thought as I regained consciousness was that old joke about waking up in a dentists chair with your trousers on back to front. Thank god trousers were still where I left them, and fully in tact. Then I felt for the familiar bulge in my pocket. It was missing!
"Perhaps I am". My head throbbed but my first thought as I regained consciousness was that old joke about waking up in a dentists chair with your trousers on back to front. Thank god trousers were still where I left them, and fully in tact. Then I felt for the familiar bulge in my pocket. It was missing!
“I’ve been robbed! They’ve taken it!”
“Taken what?” enquired the kindly old gentlemen “your cock?”
“My comedy notebook! It had all my jokes in it, and some ideas for a film about things not to do before you die”.
“Oh you’re a comedy writer are you? I don’t suppose you’re looking for a commission at the moment?”
“What? Why yes?” I replied quite startled by such an unusual turn of events “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“I am the proprietor of a small Internet factory. My name is Wilberforce Scribbins”
Coming Soon Part 2 Terror At The Hands of 40,000ft!!
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