God rest ye merry gentlemen, you fuckers...

So on Tuesday we reconvened for the final Perfect Ten of the year. Jupes had a cold that weighed on him like guilt does Catholics and sounded more impenetrable than my uncle; when he speaks to me I just about catch my name at the end of the sentence. Naturally, I smile and give him the thumbs up. That went swimmingly until the day he told me that his mother had just died, but I digress...

So we did Show 11, which is a feat in itself as we planned six and were then all out of there, but I think the prevailing good mood got the better of us. Show 11 went incredibly well considering Phill was coughing like he'd just been hit by a canister of mustard gas (which wouldn't be half as funny if he had been) so that was quite a feat in itself. An aside; we're now higher in the iTunes chart than I think we ever have been before, thank you all so much, that's the kind of fucking Christmas present I'm talking about (sorry, got an attack of the Westwoods)!

Anyway, we talked Bucket lists and all the things women have hit me with, time has helped heal those terrible scars, thank you, and then we sat around while the lovely Andre Vincent did his best camp Santa (is there any other kind?) for the following Festive 12. Phill did multiple takes with his jingle bells (true story, madam), he's like George Martin when he gets in a studio (wears a white coat, calls me Ringo...) and we were ready to go.

Andrew Collins and Richard Herring arrived, College with his perturbed furrow above the eyebrows and quizzical left eye and Herring looking like Santa after a three day bender of hookers and gin. What could have been more festive? The show goes up on the 22nd, either via us or the excellent podcast Horny Santa and Quzzical (as they're now known) do. They did theirs via Garageband (with loads of extras, there's a good five minutes of foul language at the beginning that's missing from ours) and we went the usual route of blagging the studio from the good folk at USP.

Suffice to say, it may well be the best show we've done all year (I can only speak for P&P Industries at this point), but it was damn good fun, all forty-five minutes of it and what a fleeting forty-five minutes they were. I listened to it last night and it sings, dammit! Actually, at one point we did sing, but I'll let you stumble across that for yourselves. So enjoy, we're done for the year now, in terms of podcasting at least.

Thanks for coming with us this far, have a bloody lovely Christmas, see you in 2009 for Season 2. We love you.
Phil(l)
xxx

Shouting and food throwing, what the fuck!?

Having returned from three days of impro, disco, cider, rum and Guinness, my next assignment was to go to the British Comedy Awards on Saturday night. I have never been before, but a request from both Buzzcocks and QI for me to attend meant that I couldn't really say no. I'm always severely underdressed at these things, as everybody does the whole black tie thing. If I dress like that, people assume I'm security so I resemble a roadie going to a wedding. I was at a table with young Amstell, Dan and Adam, his writers, Jim Pullin the exec, Stu Mather the producer, Dave Morley the Talkback honcho and Tracy Mcleod who guides young Amstell's wonderful career.

In the wake of the BBC caving in to the whims of The Daily Mail, regular host Jonathan Ross was deputised by former bete noir of the tabloids Angus Deayton. His opening salvo was a spiky enough and the Mail got a slap so i was happy. I was asked to fill in for the absent QI luminaries in case they won, so had a double chance of podium glory. That said, I was rooting for Have I Got News to win.

Like all award shows it was a bit dull, and the hollow nature of the thing was pointed up when the late Geoffrey Perkins kids came up to collect an award for him. Russell Brand rightly got Best Stand Up, TV Burp got one as did Alan Carr, Gervaise got an award but wasn't there, and when he was announced as winner there was an audible moan, and the little boy out of Muppet Treasure Island got all cross.

Then our category was announced by Adrian Chiles and Lucy Davies and QI won. Simon shook my hand and I went up and made a shit speech. I felt quite odd being up there, and being a C average kinda guy, am really unaccustomed to it. I felt bad for Simon and Stu and everybody, as it's been a tough time with Bill leaving. Anyway I told my weak ass joke and sat back down. Then they did a few more awards Jasperv Carrot won a lifetime achievement award and was really lovely in his speech. Gavin And Stacey won something and the little boy out of those shit bank adverts threw some food around, shouted some more so they couldn't make a speech and then it was all over.

On the way out I was presented with a huge goody bag that contained the following...

A make up box
Shampoo
A razor,
shave foam
toothpaste
2 tee shirts,
a clock
some hair shine stuff,
make up wipes,
some ringtones,
a pork pie,
a voucher for some prescription specs
a baseball cap
a Mike Reid dvd
a booklet about a shirt shop
pills for curing hangovers
a drink you drink before going on the lash to avoid hangovers
a bottle of water
a bottle of champagne
two tickets for the boat show at earls court

I got home and drank Caucasians while watching The Big Lebowski.

At least I can say I've been once. And same as the Brits (1987) once is enough...

Most Metal

So while Phill toddled around the Emerald Isle I kept the flame of heavy metal alive with two trips into town, one to see the black panto that is Slipknot at Hammersmith Odeon and then Coheed & Cambria (or Rush Junior as we call them in our house) at the doomed Astoria.

Slipknot have nine members so the stage (multi-tiered, spewing flames) is always busy. They play beer barrels too - true - and use more hydraulics than your average car factory. At one point the drum riser rose up in the air and spun around just like Tommy Lee's used to. I punched the air in celebration, I may even have whooped.

C&C are more considered and no-one wears a clown mask which is a shame because nothing says Christmas like an S&M clown. C&C's singer has hair the size of Mammon and sometimes he plays a double-necked guitar, they make concept albums and have their own comic book. I bet you're crushed you missed them. They'll be back in 2009, let's all go and see them together then, Slipknot too.

Phil(l)

LAVERYS PLAYLIST

Due to major pinheadedness, after typing the playlist out last night I deleted it, so I have to redo it anyway, so here we go... These are what was played last night at Lavery's in Belfast...

Jazz Jamaica - Theme from The Godfather/Al Capone

Peter Sellers - Yes It Is

Pluto Shervington - Dat

Manu Chao and Toots Hibbert - Merry Blues

Gogol Bordello - Immigrant Punk

Magnifico & Turbolenza - Hir Ai Kam Hir Ai Go

JUF - Last Wish Of The Bride

Brakes - All Night Disco Party (Graham Sutton remix)

LCD Soundsystem - Daft Punk Is Playing At My House (Soulwax Shibuya mix)

Transglobal Underground - Drinking In Gomorrah

Loose Cannons - I Like It When Ya...

Paul Weller - Push It Along

Detroit Cobras - Last Night

Buzzcocks - Fiction Romance

Specials - Little Bitch

Madness - Rockin' In A Flat

The Clash - White Man In Hammersmith Palais

Lord Kitchener - Love In the Cemetery

Ella Fitzgerald - Get Ready

Billy Stewart - Secret Love

Gentleman June Gardner - It's Gonna Rain

Professor Longhair - Big Chief

The Meters - Chicken Strut

Collapsed Lung - Thundersley Invacar

The Specials - Friday Night, Saturday Morning

I've Got A Lavery Bunch Of Coconuts...

So, Belfast then. I haven't gigged here proper in a good long while. I've done tellys and radios but not much in the way of live work. So to be playing The Opera House with the lads is a singular honour.

The show goes up a little late due to various technical issues but we hit the stage and deliver the goods for a shade under ninety minutes. the crowd are rowdy and fun as you might expect from Belfast, and we have a laugh.

Afterwards, I'm picked up with the boys for the deejaying gig at Lavery's. I've done this a fair few times lately but I have to say the crowd were a delight. No poseurs, no hipsters, no wankers, just people out for a drink, a dance and a laugh.

For those who said hello, a big hello back, and thanks for coming out. Also thanks to Gregz the resident deejay at Lavery's for asking me to do it. I hope we can have a go again sometime... for those who care, I just tried to cut and paste the running order, but for some reason I can't... It will follow at some time in the future...

Stick it in Cork...

Day two of my Irish sojourn and we drive down (?) to Cork for a gig at Brian's City Limits comedy club. A stage I haven't graced in about 12 years. All of us are a tad fragile from the previous evening's drinking so in an effort to stem the problem, I wander into a fake 50s diner called Eddie Rockets to eat chips and drink a malt while trying to pretend I can read The Times in my near weepy state. The others, being pragmatists are merely throwing more booze at the problem over the road in a pub called The Myles Breen. Their approach to hangovers is therefore not unlike Gordon Brown's approach to economics.

You may wonder what glamorous things we get up to during such tours, but I can assure you the rhythm of the thing adheres doggedly to a 'drive, drink, do show, drink more, do it all over again' template. We played to an enthusiastic crowd of about 300 who came up with some really good suggestions for scenes, so the gig was a real laugh.

Our hotel isn't quite what we expected, and we find ourselves sharing "apartments" which make us all feel like ex-pat Polish chippys. The Welsh youth hostel circa '74 decor does nothing to lift our moods. However, when in doubt, drink. So we decorate from within and the rooms seem a lot less bleak after a few Cuba Libres and White Russians.

Very shortly we'll be assembling to go for our 1.00pm breakfast, and then will be flying to Belfast for the gig at the Opera House. I have to get hold of some blank CDs in preparation for tonight's deejay set at Lavery's where I can guarantee the crowd some solid gold floor clearers...

Dance, bitch!

Greetings one and all!

This inaugural blog finds the portly half of the Phill and Phil empire 'on the road' very much in the style of Jack Kerouac assuming he was an Irishman with a drinking problem.

Last night in the company of Steve Frost, Andy Smart, Steve Steen and Richard Vranch I played an impro show in Limerick at the university theatre. A good crowd of around 500 saw us arsing around for cash.

Tragically the evening spiralled out of control in a haze of cider, rum and youngsters shouting "legend" in my ear before getting their phone cameras out. I also appear to have thrown up in the night, which I don't remember, although had the presence of mind at the time to have found the sink. And apparently, the plug, which in retrospect is a shame.

Tonight we storm Cork at the Thursday comedy club (City Limits?) and on Friday we best Van Morrison by blowing the roof off of The Belfast Opera House after the panto. After that gig I will be deejaying at a bar called Lavery's from midnight, for those who know any who might care...

ONWARDS!