Monthly Archives: August 2014

When You’re In Your Scholarly Room…

Posted on August 25, 2014 by robinince

I am soon to face one of my first enforced retirements, the ensuing decades will have many, but this is one of my favourite jobs. I am to become surplus to requirement, a savage axing due to the relentless march … Continue reading →

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Hush, hush, my lens is cracking…and other selfish genes

Posted on August 24, 2014 by robinince

I am tired enough to be having one of those imagined “Falling Down” days. In this episode, the occupants of seats B10 and B11 on the 12.57 from Paddington are looking at me with petrified eyes as I stand over … Continue reading →

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Psychosomatic Sad Clown Syndrome?

Posted on August 22, 2014 by robinince

one of my blog posts that is just notes really, typed spare thoughts (and possible repetitions from previous blog posts) – Yup, I do the hard sell. Are comedians misanthropes, miserablists or depressives anymore than other occupations? Since the suicide … Continue reading →

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I love stand up comedy (even when I hate it) – the disease of comedy

Posted on August 13, 2014 by robinince

I am diseased. There is no way out. I was diseased when I was young, probably from the first time I saw Rik Mayall on TV. There was no other option but stand up. After my youthful desire to be … Continue reading →

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The Desperate Trek To Good Morning, Vietnam – The Allure of Robin Williams

Posted on August 12, 2014 by robinince

Unfortunately, I have started drinking again, so this post about Robin Williams may well be precarious. It is 3am. Just a few months ago, I wrote about what Rik Mayall meant to me and why I became a stand up … Continue reading →

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The Mickey Rooneys of Fury

Posted on August 9, 2014 by robinince

Last night, I felt the warm glow of nostalgia abuse. Walking from Edinburgh College of Art, some excitable beer brain soaked young men in the casual shirts of hopeful mating giddily struck walls and skipped threateningly. “Four eyes!”, shouted one. … Continue reading →

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All Will Be Back to Abormal after These Breakdowns

Posted on August 8, 2014 by robinince

What is so wrong with silence? People sometimes complain of pubs that they say are, “like a morgue”, and immediately want to go there. I like morgue pubs. I like pubs whose walls repel “theme”, where a low rumble of … Continue reading →

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The No Booze Cobbles of Granite Town

Posted on August 7, 2014 by robinince

There was a time when 50% of the Edinburgh Fringe was sitting in bars until 4am, shouting at each other as we made stains from the drinks we clumsily drank. It was the camaraderie of intoxication as the fear of … Continue reading →

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If Alexei Sayle Pulls a Knife, You Pull a Gun, said Bobby Ball, polishing his Colt.

Posted on August 5, 2014 by robinince

In 1979, there was a schism, where the end of the pier crashed into the bar of the Marxist art school, and the streets ran red with dye of frilly shirts and Communist flags. Alexei Sayle looked Jimmy Tarbuck square … Continue reading →

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“How do I know what I think until I have heard what I have said” – or something else EM Forster said

Posted on August 4, 2014 by robinince

It is the scrutiny that drives the Edinburgh performer insane, even though they crave it. I would quite happily get through the whole Edinburgh festival without a single critic disemboweling me. I have been predominantly ignored by them most years … Continue reading →

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