Best Before

A Trilogy of Misery

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 13:01:00 +0000

Good afternoon Cynthia (hope it's warmer in California) and Xander (Cup of tea/cider/merriment this afternoon?)

Three new ones:

High Street Girl

She looked at me
with a wonder of uncertainty
as to how mad I must be
to double take her
and her loud laughter of distress
as her size 7's washed
around
in her size 11 shoes
and she spins round
with her mac entangled in arms;
her ruck-sack falling
from the shoulders
in her rush
to nowhere.

Misery

The misery of Winter's
dreaded arrival
becomes clear
when the fun of
kicking crisp
Autumn leaves
up into the air
results in wet, rotted
black stuff
on the chin.

Rock'N'Roll

On the bus
on route
to Job Centre Plus
- attempting to avoid eye contact
with the stoney grey
clay
faces of Anthony
Gormley's figurines
and not really feeling
like I'm part of a
'Rock'n'roll Movement'
necessarily.

_________________________

Thanks for reading poems from the last day or so.

George's Festive Gig Action:

DECEMBER

Friday 4th

The Gallery Sessions
in a cafe or a gallery, not sure
@ Queen's Theatre, Barnstaple, North Devon
(in association with Apples & Snakes)
Zena Edwards - Headlining

Sunday 13th

Family Friendly Festive Cabaret of Music, Mulled, Mince and Aliterative Poetry, Possibly...and Pies (for the Mince)

(not sure what they will call this event but probably not the above; all tbc, details to follow.)
@ the Vaults & Gardens on the High Street, Oxford

Monday 14th

GEORGE's JAMBORREE of Music, Poetry and Comedy
- An Open Mike (Michaels are actually welcome - the poster was a joke - stop asking!)
@ THE CHESTER ARMS, Chester Street, OX4

Last month was delicious, packed to the rafters and rocking with talent. Open-Mic spots fill up quickly so get in early if you want to strum, tap, bang, whistle, read or recite. Starts at 8:30 sharpish so please sign-up by 8:15 at the latest. Hope you and your friends can make it. People of all abilities are very welcome. FREE ENTRY.

Tuesday 15th

"Georgie's doubling up":
First Stop:
Doing an intermission slot for an event @ Albion Beatnik (a bookshop on Walton Street), Jericho, Oxford. Organised by Lion Lounge Press. Will be there till 8:30/9 ish. Details TBC -so please check http://www.lionloungepress.com/ for info closer to the time.

Next stop:
"CREATIVE TUESDAYS" - CHRISTMAS SPECIAL
@ Bar Tarifa, on't Cowley Road, Oxford from 9pm onwards but it starts earlier (seen some brilliant musicians there in the past and the beer is lovely, called Mahou).
___________________________________________

Right, better get on and write application letters, hoorah!
Cheerio and thanks again for reading.
Yours,
George

Lemn, them and then me (but in reverse order)

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 22:54:00 +0000

After a poetry gig like that, it begs the question 'Should I have persisted with rugby as a child?' despite the fact that I was scared of tackling, slower than the average girl and couldn't catch a cold. But did get pneumonia when i was ten, possibly twelve? Who gives a shit?

Perhaps if I had gone up on stage and straight away announced that I had fucked every one of the audience members' grandparents that I would have at least received a response. All be it a negative one. But at least it would have been one - just even the slightest of alteration in facial expression would have been a result. Even possibly from the guy in the front row who couldn't have resembled Little Britain's Andy Pipkin any better if he'd tried and had left his wheelchair at the top of the stairs before bounding down them to take his seat right in front of me whilst Lou had his back turned. Every time I looked at his ever glazing over, non-responsive expression I felt like I might aswell have been reading my poems backwards, with a potato in my mouth and from inside a shut, melting whellie bin, in hell.

Perhaps returning to the sausage and mash restaurant where, up until having major bowel surgery in July, I'd previosly spent eight miserably arduous months working as a waiter/toilet cleaner, had meant that my usual feeling of joy, passion and lust for life that I usually get when I walk on stage had upped and fucked off into a pit of the mundane everyday,- that of microwaved mash, Bisto and the minumum wage perhaps...

Ok, so the feeling of self-harming in a luke warm bath whilst masturbating into a handful of broken glass (with the other hand) might sound to me fractionally more appealing and far less painful than both last night's gig and tonight's, certainly, but without these the good one's would no longer be good, presumably. Michael Jackson played to packed stadiums and arenas of screaming, crying, adoring fans for most of his life and, well, need I say more?

Note to self: A set list is always needed; write it before getting to the gig and don't lose it seconds before walking on stage. (2) Do not ever drink til 3 in the morning the night before a gig. (3) When it appears that you're going down like a lead balloon before an audience, enjoy it, cherish it, keep pumping it out and revel in their misery. Life is far too long to get upset about what absolutely everyone thinks of your work. (4) don't have any expectations of anything. Ever. Or to sell any of your £1 books again. You might sell 23 at one gig and get your first publishing offering and then none at the next. Ooh, life's such a rollercoaster! And (5)

"Stop sulking and blaming the audience and go to bed".
"Not yet Mother"
..because first I must just state how much I loved Lemn Sissay's performance. Genuine, funny, energetic, inviting, passionate, and really engaging. A must see if you ever get chance. I just wished I'd done him justice and actually done my job as a support act and warmed the audience up for him rather than increasing their level of verging autistic hostility towards the stage. Thankfully, due to his many years of experience and natural charm and charisma he swung it round and they adored him. I'm certainly pleased I got to see him at the very least.

Goodnight Doctor. x

ps. Xander, thanks very much again for the help with CV editing/printing mallarkey. On reflection, your idea to leave out the list of twenty three swimming certificates that I'd previously included was probably a good idea and even for one's CV would be regarded as blowing one's trumpet a little too loudly. I wouldn't want rejection from potential employers on grounds of being over qualified! If you're up for a cup of tea today then give us a text. Cheerio, G

Big Issue Bin Men

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 11:33:00 +0000

I started the day with two weetabix, two rashers of smoked back, four slices of Warburtons thick white sliced, two cups of tea, a cup of coffee and a fag. Diet of Champions. Shouted at the bin-men and then signed "Mary the Virgin" for a parcel for the downstairs flat. The postman looked bemused.

Once shoe laces were tied I headed to the train station to buy a ticket for tomorrow's gig in East London and so meandered past my favourite Big Issue sellar on Cornmarket, the high street bit of Oxford. He is a comic performer and quite often as I walk up Cornmarket, he is hurling mild/moderate abuse at the stupid public. Anyway, on this occasion, three pensioner women in their early seventies were walking past the Big Issue Man and he said "Morning Girls!" to which they replied,
"Ooh, we like girls!"
"Comin' out dancin' with me tonight?" he retorted
"Oh, not sure 'bout that!" they giggled.

"POLE DANCING!" He blirted.

They strode on looking more shocked than amused. But it certainly tickled me.

Anyway, got the train tickets: not too expensive for only one day in advance. However, I always debate the point of buying a ticket for the return journey because there are never guards on the train back from Paddington after 11pm. I'm not gonna risk it this time...or am I? Answers on a postcard (of a fat, lard-white woman sprawled across a tar black beach in Torquay, please.

George's Gigs:

tomorrow
london

Saturday 24th Oct

London Poetry Systems @ The Isis Tavern, down on the river, Oxford.
Starts 6pm

Wednesday 4th November

A strange authors night
me and other people
@ The Corner Club, 16 Turl Street, Oxford
8pm upstairs.

Wednesday 11th

Cafe Tarifa, Cowley Road, Oxford
short slot

December 4th Friday

Organised by Apples & Snakes @
Queens Theatre,
Barnstaple, North Devon
8pm

...run out of sloes. Off to the Rusty Bicycle.
bye, g xx

Aliteration, My Bowels And Ben's Big Gig

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 07:48:00 +0000

The other day my Primary School Teaching girl-friend explained what aliteration means. Without realising it, I had used it in my poems on numerous occassions in the past. It gives wonderful flow and rhythm. Towards the end of her explanation I thought up the following line: "The feisty flight of fledglings fleetingly flew through forest Firs', and with raised eyebrows she said "Yes George," and walked off to make more mint tea.

So, things have been alright my end: several good gigs and one horrible one. From performing to an audience of families to that of black clothed Goths waiting in the "moshpit" for the next metal band to come on. I enjoyed the former performance to nearly 200 people and the latter to 18 people just as much. Both were as equally enjoyable and were brilliant experience for crafting my set to suit the very different types and size of audience. But inbetween I compered an event down in London that wasn't so fun. I didn't feel great (physically) before hand but excuses, excuses! After the first 8 minutes I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I totally bombed in the opening ten minutes but then gradually brought it back as the night drew on. It was a strange old night. Just watch the nervous arm movements - trying to find that non-existent pocket, perhaps?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbs2PY5PhQU

Anyway, the next thing is

on: Friday (1st May - two days time)
at: The Northwall Arts Centre, Summertown, Oxford.
KO: 8pm
(I'm compering and bangin' out some verse inbetween acts. The night is called "Ben's Big Gig").

Curated/organised/sorted out by Xander Cansell, it's an amalgamation of the best of Ben Walker, (singer/songwriter of Christmas No.1 You Tube Hit equivalent, "You're No One If You're Not On Twitter" and "Hugh Fearnley Whittinstall - A Tribute") and his band. Ben and Xander are fellow geeks who've both got microchips actually imbedded in their penises. So with the aid of their technologically advanced willies the 220 seater venue will be wired up to the hilt with booths and stuff and wires and stuff and even more wires so as to enable it to be streamed live to the internet on the night. God knows how they do this stuff but it sounds great! Actually, coming to think of it, I ought to try and find out and actually learn/understand details of this concept before having to explain it to the audience!

Anyway, Ben Walker plays solo but also as part of a trio, avec bass and percussion;- all with Jekyll and Hyde type musically flexible instrument swappingly talented men and hence doing everything from Wallpaper Jazz to Folky Pop. Technically perfect, tunefully thoughtful, observational, touching, satirical and funny' are nine words I'd use to describe Mr Walker's work. Other Acts include The Funky Llamas and the brilliantly funny Tom Greeves.

Ear are some tasters of Ben's bits:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsS0B4T-lzo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OeGPXwBJXs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGIeSQ_PkBs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7nAaNMk9BM

BUY TICKETS for BEN'S BIG GIG:

from the North Wall box office (01865 319450)

or from http://www.intelligent-tickets.com/index.php?th=nw&pg=bookseats&date=1&event=Ben%27s+Big+Gig&sel=2

off for some menthe chaud.

Bye. x

George's March and April Antics

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 11:19:00 +0000

Hello. Nothing much to say today. Off to the Botanic Gardens and possibly the pub for a pint. Or just the pub. Been couped up like a free range chicken in France. Got to get out. Anyway, bye.

MARCH

Monday 2nd
Oxfringe 2009 Launch Party
7pm Brewery Gate
nr the Train Station
Oxford.

Friday 6th
Going to watch
Piano Master, Jean-Philippe Rio-py at
The Jacqueline Du Pre, Oxford.

Saturday 14th
"14 Hours"
@ The Griffin (upstairs),
93 Leonard Street,
Shoreditch, London
EC2A (nearest tube Old Street or Liverpool Street)

Featuring: John Berkavitch, Nathan Penlington, Me and others..

Wednesday 18th
Off to Bournemouth
School Gig,
Gig in a school, somewhere,
in Bournemouth
You can't come
unless you're a kid
at that school
in Bournemouth

Sunday 22nd
My older sister's birthday
(older than 30)

APRIL

Wednesday 1st

Hammer & Tongue Slam Poetry Night

@ Baby Simple, Cowley Road, Oxford

Simon Munnery, George Chopping plus some slammers

(don't know why it's slipped into some sort of double spacing mode..?!)

Monday 6th

Hosting: "Poetry and Schooners"
First night of this night.
@ The Chester Arms,
Chester Street,
Oxford.

Saturday 11th

Part of OXFRINGE 2009
(supporting the festival Headliner)
John Hegley: "Beyond Our Kennel"
@ The Jacqueline Du Pre Building,
Part of St Hilda's College,
Oxford
K.O. 7pm

Tuesday 14th

Hosting: "Utter! Chopping"
Featuring: John Hegley, Clare Pollard, Tim Key and Pete The Temp
@ The Green Note,
Camden,
London
(don't ask me how I managed to wangle this superb line-up. You'd just be silly to miss it).
K.O. 7:30pm (you ought to check the time on that one..)

Saturday 18th

Holding a workshop for "Utter!"
in London (details to follow)

Saturday 25th

"Gappy Tooth Industries"
@ The Wheatsheaf,
High Street,
Oxford.

Precise and confirmed details for all these gigs will be on my Facebook profile in the days leading up to each event.

Bye for now,
G

George's Journey

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 12:10:00 +0000

FEBRUARY

Monday 2nd

"Jam On That?"
Open-Mic at the Jam Factory (Arts Centre)
near the train Station in Oxford
8pm

(trying out a small bit of new stuff )

Wednesday 4th

"Songs In The Dark"
8pm. Upstairs at The Betsey Trotwood
56 Farringdon Road,
London, EC1R 3BL.

(12 and half minutes of my best stuff)

Friday 6th

"Bingo Masters Breakout"
8pm at St Aloysius Social Club, Phoenix Road
Euston, London, NW1 1TA.

(Guest Poet and Bingo Caller)

...And no other dates set in stone until...

APRIL

Saturday 11th

Part of OXFRINGE 2009 John Hegley and Spacial Guests
(me)
7pm in The Jacqueline De Pre Building (part of St Hilda's College), bottom of High Street and Iffley Road, just off the Plain (roundabout), Oxford.

Tuesday 14th

So I won the "Utter!" Ajar Mic Competition 2008 in Camden. Part of the prize is to host my own "Utter!" night which will be on Tuesday 14th April, 2009 at The Green Note, 106 Parkway, Camden, London, NW1 7AN. 8pm start.
Featuring: John Hegley, Tim Key (and others TBC)

going to eat now.
Bye x

sausages and love

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 23:27:00 +0000

Just before you say it, I know, I know. It's almost like I'm writing a fresh blog every hour because I'm just so committed to keeping you, my adoring, stalker followers in touch with the every (bowel) movement of Charles Street's next Poet Laur...Ooh, hold on a sec. (Second passing). Arhh, that's it - nothing quite beats the refreshing, lip-smackin', thirst quenchin', great tastin', motivatin', good buzzin', cool talkin', high walkin', fast livin', ever givin', cool fizzin' slirp of a well chilled can of Carling after a sweaty slog of a shift at the sausage restaurant, that started two hours after eight hours at the SUPERmarket. Um, I don't understand why I have Irritable Fucking Bowel Syndrome, Eczema, 27 other dermatological conditions, torn clothes, a shit haircut, sore cock, a self-obsession orientated personality disorder and hypochondriacy. But all it is, is I need to do something, anything because no one apart from my best mates at i-tunes have e-mailed me and even I'm getting a little bored of watching (myself on) You Tube and of course there's absolutely bugger all on tv, so...

...oh, I'm going to bed..

[3 days later]

Morning, um, before I forget, I'm assisting in the promotion of and will be introducing on the night, a guy called Jean-Philippe Riopy. He's not Welsh but French and a pianist who will be playing at The Jacqueline De Pre Building, Oxford on Friday 7th November. He plays Classical pieces but improvised with jazz in his own passionately distraught and unique style. Well worth the £8 or £5 as a student. He is bloody good!

In my last blog you can see the next dates that I'm performing and in addition to them, I will be performing in the 'Ajar Open Mic Final' on Tuesday 9th December at The Green Note, Camden. The event is called "Utter", hosted by Richard Tyrone Jones. The prize is £1,000,000. Or was it £100? I can't remember. Last Tuesday I performed at the aformentioned venue and have never felt so nervous in my life, nearly, but carried it off ok..ish, I think. Got the laughs but noted as I went through the set, how many things I would do differently and that the Senyru entitled 'Window-Licker' is a definite 'no-no' for any future audience.

[about 15 days later...Wednes 21st Nov]

God, I feel diabolical. But I don't know why i'm telling you because you're a carpenter; rather you were a carpenter...that's if you ever.. Well, anyway, I feel like shit. It's a mint tea day and a day of self-doubting, worrying about money, worrying about leaving the security of a secure job although, granted, a job that (like a lot of people have) was making me miserable but needless to say less miserable than being hungry and now I don't even think I have the ability to be a waiter in a fucking sausage and mash restaurant! Perhaps I never was a good waiter? Perhaps people just had that perception in their head because I fooled them into thinking I was good because I can/could always appear confident, loud, mildly amusing and moderatly entertaining. Perhaps my Grandpa did shag John Cleese's mother, nine months before he was born and two months before he met my Grandma..? But the entertaining thing was only actually as a result of the fact that I used to find the whole experience so incredibly stressful. Food that's overcooked, raw, uncooked, unclean, too clean, too soft, too hard, too rare, not rare enough, "where's the mustard?" "Any forks?"

"Um, sorry to trouble you but we ordered our coffees twenty minutes ago..."

"You, table 29?! Coffee? Haven't you gone yet? Fucking coffee! I thought the tops on your creme fucking brulees weren't fucking hard enough! Why didn't you piss off after that dis-heartening state of circumstance; that earth shattering fact. Here's your bill! I haven't got time to make you fucking coffee. Piss off!"

Here is George's Gig-List:

Tuesday 25th November, 2008

LPS (London Poetry Systems)
The Flea Pit
49 Columbia Road,
Shoreditch/Hackney, London

at 8:30pm

Thursday 27th November, 2008

John Hegley, Tony Curtis and George Chopping

The Thunderbolt,
Totterdown, Bristol

at 8:30pm

Wednesday 3rd December

Comedy Night
Johnathon Elston, Ivo Graham, Rachel Boxall, Broderick Chow, George Chopping,
Tom Goodliffe (MC)

Corner Club
16/17 Turl Street,
Oxford

Doors 7:45pm (8:15)
Members: Free
Non-Members: £5

Tuesday 9th December

"Utter!"
The Green Note
Camden, London

All sorts of stuff - comedy/poetry/music possibly
(please google event for time/cost/address)

Ok, off to the market.

Bye,

G x

Death From Coughing

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 14:29:00 +0000

hello, it's me, "Mr Regular Blogger" with this week's bi-annual update of the last two months occurrences.

So, en vacances dans aout pour tres semaines. First port of call, down to Devon for two weddings on consecutive days. (Hold on, I need to go and kick the washing machine to stop the bleeping). So, as I was saying, went to the first wedding on Friday, died from a Man Cold and irritated IBS on Saturday and then flew from Exeter to Edinburgh on Sunday. Edinburgh was alright and certainly better than last year as I went without any books or expectations but to see some stuff and to be away from where I am normally. I did miss the supermarket, though...like a nail bomb going off in my small bowel.

Went to some of the dirtiest bars in the city and learnt not to pretend to be Scottish,
in the first one. Despite having a cold throughout the duration o fthe three weeks off I continued to play hard and make the most of being in my favourite City during the month of the year when it is artistically plugged into a million volt socket. Although the majority of a lot of the many venues do not appear to get many of the volts through...Ooh, look at me - bitchy reviewer!

So I saw plenty of comedy that actually was funny, but you have to pay for it. Also saw a piece of physical theatre called "Dear Theo" about artists' survival and letters between Van Gogh and his brother Theo, I think. But I'm not entirely sure (which is no reflection on the play) but i had to dip out for a crap, half way through and so I think I might have missed some crucial bits. Anyway, so I left feeling confused, lighter and moderately cultured.

I saw other bits but I can't be bothered to mention them. I'm not fucking TIMEOUT. I did one of my best received sets at a venue called the Bongo Club on the last night. And was accosted by two reasonably fit American Ladies afterwards who, despite being married, basically wanted a bit of me. "Georgie's Doggerell - COME ON LADIES!"

Right, where can you se mee next? I hear you scream whilst lobbing pairs of knickers at my head...Well:

On Tuesday 14th October (next Tues)

@The Green Note Club, Camden, North London
£2 before 7:30pm a Lady Godiva (£iver) after

(A fine looking line-up and the re-locating party of "Utter" hosted by Richard Tyrone Jones).

......................................................

On Friday 14th November

@ The Royal Seven Stars, Totnes, Devon (bottom of the Street)

part of the "Wondermentalist Cabaret" hosted by (Radio 4 regular) Matt Harvey

(a line-up well worth making the journey for).

....................................................

On Thursday 27th November

@The Thunderbolt, Totterdown, Bristol

John Hegley, Tony Curtis (possibly) and Me (definitely)

(tell your Bristolian friends about this one, please, otherwise I fear it might be to an audience of local death metallers only..)

Also I'm planning on doing a couple of other things up in London, one in Finchley and the other in Kings Cross. Dates to be confirmed bu tin the next couple of Months.

And that's it for now as I've got to go and serve sausages and mash to millions.

Bye,

GC x

so much to say; i don't know where to start..

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 00:15:00 +0000

Morning, it's me, George, again.
Been a while. Hope you're all fine.
Irritable Bowel Syndrome - NOT a laughing matter. The confirmed, yet still only suspected diagnosis of the condition (that has caused me to feel so sporadically unwell over the past 6 months) was made on Tuesday by a lovely Doctor by the name of Chung. She was very warm and calming in her address and whole demeanour in fact. Like many of the many doctors I have had the pleasure, yet misfortune of meeting, she was good. She felt a part of my lower abdomen at which point I yelped and then whilst I pulled down and tucked in my t-shirt we talked and she asked me how I found my job. But then she asked whether I actually liked it. I nearly cried. But I didn't until I was un-locking my racer from the drain-pipe outside the surgery; because I'm a real man. Real.
It is time to move on and people keep promising that it will not be forever and that "great things wait for George on the horizon" and possibly even a job that will pay more than four and a half loaves of Warburtons thin sliced an hour and will even give some form of satisfaction. Not utter boredom combined with frustration, anger, bitterness, self hatred and that of everyone surrounding, but of actual satisfaction and the feeling of not being abused and taken advantage of.

Got to have faith in one's ability to be able to...
...forge a CV that makes it look like I haven't had 27 jobs in the space of nine years and that all the volunteered referees are family members; the ones that I haven't worked for, of course.

The cloud is clearing. I'm not going to let the £84 T-Mobile bill upset me anymore. I'm not going to let those cunts at the SUPERmarket upset me anymore. I'm not going to let the fact that i spent half my last day off, descaling the bottom of the rancid mould fucking shower with caustic shit and crystal soda cream cleanser only for fellow housemates to still shed pubes. I'm going to find someone who deals good resin and tranquillisers.

But for now, I'm going to finish my drink and go to bed.
good bye and speak to you sooner than last time.

P.S.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Qr2Lp-Ahgc

love, George

George's next stint in London

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 14:44:00 +0000

hello,
this is the next thing i'm doing in london.
hope you can come.
cheerio,
george x

http://www.timeout.com/london/comedy/events/696919/joke_and_spoken_word_night.html

One new poem, two haiku, a couple of dates and a review for you

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 22:43:00 +0000

Evening all,
Hope this finds you well.
Firstly, a poem:

Bleached /Blonde Dogs

Just outside the canteen fire exit
smoking on the path.
Trying to block out the husky guffaw of
Maggie from Bakery
and the illiterate shrieks
from the girls off check-outs.
All of them, stood slunched
in a military line-up,
sheltering behind the pillars
from the gust coming off the roundabout.

Yellow butts and scrunched coffee cups
litter the concrete path,
just off which, stand a cluster of heads
of dew drenched, snow white Snow Drops
- swaying in the breeze on their elf green stems.
Seven of them.
Dwarfed by the bushes, plants and trees
through which I see'd,
approaching the roundabout, a white van
with written on the side:
"Dial a Dog Wash".

__________________________

Here's the link to my first review. No idea whether it'll work but please try clicking on it:

http://www.dailyinfo.co.uk/reviews/feature/2806/Oxfringe

Now for a few new Haiku:

Mother's Day

Clambering over
garden wall. Daffodils clenched.
It's the thought that counts.

12 Words Worth

On the 12th of March
Snow Drops heads' shrivel up but
Daffodils flourish.

Poetry in Lotion

When I run out of
aqueous emollient,
Goose fat suffices.

_____________________

Right then, off to bed in a minutes but first, here are a few dates for your diary of when I'm performing next. So:

Tomorrow night (Friday 7th)

At: The Albany, Douglas Way, Deptford, SE8 4AG.
The event is called: "The Book Bites Back" . There will be about four other performers incl. Daljit Nagra who wrote "Look We Have Coming to Dover".
K.O. 8pm

Easter Monday (24th March)

At: The Poetry Cafe, Betterton Street, Covent Garden.
Supporting John Hegley (T.B.C. so please check Time-Out London closer to the time for details...)

Saturday 29th March

At: The Port Mahon, St Clements, Oxford.
The event is called: "Minty Fresh". (Christ knows why).
Part of Oxfringe; a comedy line-up of me and two others.
K.O. 8pm - £4 .

So there you have it. Hope you or some of your London/Oxford dwelling chums can get to one of them.
Cheers for reading and see you anon!
Goodnight.
Yours,
George

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 19:03:00 +0000

Good evening worthy followers,

Hope the weekend treated you all well and that unlike me, none of your genitals have dropped off as a result of frost-bite.

Cockless 'Ku
Directing one's wee
now proves tricky. So I just
release, hope and pray.

...Not exactly Keats. But if I'm honest, it was a bit of an after thought, really. Didn't take many days to construct.

So, firstly (or secondly) my apologies for not posting for sometime. You must all feel lost. Directionless. Empty. Georgeless. But in my defence, I did spend a fair bit of time over the last week
adding bits to a blog as I felt (inspired?) the need. But technical problems pervailed meaning the lot wiped and so I gave up, have sulked and sworn since not to bother with this damn blogging lark ever again. But I've since picked myself up and decided to blog-on regardless.

Um, secondly (or thirdly) a huge thanks to all of you, regular readers (all three of you) and others, for the support with viewing and forwarding on of my You Tube link. 281 views, three comments and one potential stalker in just 6 days since it was first up-loaded. Secondly (thirdly or fourthly) a gigantically massive thank you to Richard Butchins who took the time to come along and record me at The Wheatsheaf and for then editing and helping me post it. Richard has several blogs (links from) "Angelsstandcorrected" accessible by clicking on link down the right hand side of my page. He has been working for the last 18 months on a documentary film entitled "American Freak Show". Check out the trailer - amusing and touching and has had much interest shown by the National Press and Bafta, even!

Thirdly, (fourthly or fifthly?) thank you Xander for aiding me recently in my sorry financial state. I thoroughly enjoyed the tin-foiled hot cross buns;- kept 'em pretty damn fresh, they were lovely toasted! However, the garlic butter didn't do them much justice. Certainly taught me not to steal, mind.

And as for last night; the lamb was delicious, the sloe gin, superb! A fine evening; thank you both.

Now for the arse flogging: Hard to beleive, I know, but I (George Chopping) have actually reached a point in my life where I might even have to start keeping a diary! Typically, the last few weeks (proceeding my filling out of my holiday leave form from the shelves) was the start of people starting to take an interest and beginning to invite me to come and perform in places, all over the world...
...or (East) Oxford even. Here are some dates:

DATE ,WHAT and WHERE?
Mon 25th Feb - (part of a comedy line-up) Launch Party for OxFringe. - Oxford Castle, Hythe Bridge Street, OXFORD. Details to follow.

Fri 7th Mar - Apple & Snakes presents: "The Book Bites Back" Celebrating World Book Day. (Three poets and me).

At: The Albany, Douglas Way, Deptford, LONDON, SE8 4AG.

...and that's it until the next time. I need to wash, eat and get this posted before it deletes. I shall post further dates next time.

Aha! Actually, before I go, I mentioned before, the Radio 4 programme that Xander co-researched, "The Museum of Curiosity" featuring John Lloyd (producer of "Spitting Image", "Blackadder", "Not the Nine O'clock News...etc") and the genius comedian, Bill Bailey ("Black Books" blabla.) A great concept involving Profs and comics...And, well, listen and see for yourself. First broadcast is at 18:30 on Wednes. Immediately accessible to listen to on the web, the second the show finishes.

Right, have a good week. I'm off to read a book on grammar and comma abuse.
Goodnight,
g

Flowers for Beadle

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 16:42:00 +0000

Good Evening,

Now, I have posted three blogs so far, all on different days with the hope that you can get an idea of how things are going in my world, on an on-going (don't care whether that is hyphenated or not) basis. BUT (again, lovely use of capitalisation) for some reason, not only are the times of each blog coming up as if I'm writing in the same time zone as that of The Emerald City or bloody Kansas but as if they are all written on the same day. Well, I'm not complaining; just explaining. Ignore the date and time. Each blog is from a different day.

Anyway, as I said, I'm not complaining about this little 'Blogger.com' blemish since I have been so sweetly advised in a totally unsarcastic tone by one of my eight PA's in the New York office, Mishka (Polish for "dirty kitten"..as in muddy paws/mischievous NOT as in 'kitten that likes to have his back-door cat flap kicked in.) who responded to my question (of how to overcome this time/date issue,) with, and I quote: "So then why don't you write and complain to 'Blogger.com' because after all, this great facility of being able to publish your writings to the whole world within seconds, is after all for FREE!"

So, you must have read about the passing away of poor Jeremy Beadle. I felt quite guilty this morning when I read the headlines, about all the times when he hosted that absolute classic, "You've been Framed" and my Sisters and I would point and laugh hysterically at....................
his hand.

In all sincerity; RIP Jeremy.

So the shed days are nearly done and from Jericho I flee and to pastures new I do migrate. So to the new abode I cometh. Central heating, internet and a 37 second walk away from the Iffley Road bus route to Sains. I will be able to catch the 4a, 4b, OR 4c OR 4d (small bra sizes but great buses) Bingo! With this choice of buses to catch everyday, everyday will start as a fun day...at the shelves.

Anyhow I'm going out for a cigarette now but if you happen to read this tonight and before 8pm (04:58 Kansas time) then come along to the Corner Club (ex-Qi Club), 16 Turl St, (Broad St end) because there are three comedians on. £5 entry (that's not a euphinism) and by the sounds of it these guys are good.

On a final note, I was recorded at the Wheatsheaf Comedy Club by Richard Butchins (access his blogs through his previously posted comments; "angels...) and the quality of the recording is fairly sexual so I shall pop a link through to You Tube once it's been cut-up and edited etc. Keep posted for that bad boy.

Going to sign off today with a short little ditty in the form of a Haiku. 'Tis one about real love and is entitled:

Flowery

They say my poems
aren't flowery...but I'd like
to fuck a florist.

Goodnight,
g

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 16:42:00 +0000

How did I start the second day's posting? Something along the lines of "Second day - second blog - that's dedication; that's me". Then I think I followed that statement by boasting my intention to do this 'blog thing' daily and so here we are, five days on and with entry three. But I did explain about shed habitat/no internet bla. Where is this going? Nowhere.

"Nobodys interested in your lame excuses, George. Stop repeating yourself. Just get on with it!"
"Then I'll digress. Undress? Could I borrow your dictionary please?"

"No".

"Then fuck it, they'll know what I mean...Or will soon come to learn the language, iliterate phraseology and mispellings of George. Two "l's" in iliterate? Ironically, I'm not even trying to be ironic! What has happened to my ability to be able to spell? Is it two "l's"? I used to be one of the best spellers in the class. My dictionary is too heavy, I'm not carrying it all the way from Jericho to Xander's. My donkey has got irritable bowel syndrome and so is bed ridden and sipping peppermint tea in the shed.

But obviously fate has finally caught up with me and decided that when one only reads three books between the ages of 5 and 27, than one will inevitably lose one's diction (that's "diction" not "dick shone"). And inevitably one's ability will dissipate into a hazey world of spelling words funetikley and however they actually sound in the Kings Arms.

I think I might have to ask Xander to edit this one.

So, performed at the comedy night on Sunday at the Wheatsheaf in Oxford. It went well. Thanks to all who came and supported. Mr Papadopoulos and his good lady came all the way from Buckinghamshire to support so thanks to them, espescially. Also, people flew in from as far as Los Angeles and even Brisbane, Australia to see me perform. Then flew back later that night. That was some effort. So, thank you.
"Really George. L.A; Brisbane?"

"No".

To have finally actually done a few (fairly low key) comedy nights. ACTUAL COMEDY nights, has ACTUALLY given me a sense of achievement. (just like when I'm kneeling at the shelves and being asked by customers whether we still sell mulled fucking wine). I feel like I've finally Reached a goal that I had set from when, after my seventh arrest back in 2001, I decided I didn't want to be a Policeman, but to stand on stages and make people laugh.

MP: "George, thank you very much for coming on the show tonight."
GC: "It's an absolute pleasure, Mr Parkinson. To come on and have the opportunity to chat to you is something that most people only ever dream of!"
MP: "Wahaha (Michael laughs). Please, call me 'Michael'."
GC: "What about Parky? Or, Mikey Baby?"
MP: "hurhh hmm!" [Michael puts his right hand (palm away and semi-clenched) to his mouth and half laughs, embarrassed by interviewee's alternative name suggestions for MP]
So, tell us about how you started out in Torquay, as a poet? You went to school in Devon didn't you?
GC: Is this tap or proper Volvic, Mike?

INTERVIEW TERMINATES

Anyway, I'm just being silly now. I want to get out of the habit of rushing my blog entries but must write them in the shed and then just come and copy them up because I shouldn't really be spending too much time in Xander and Miranda's office. It is lovely of them to let me use the internet but I must try not to extract the urinal. By the way, you must listen to radio 4's "Musuem of Curiosity" programme with John lloyd, Bill Bailey and others. It will be first broadcasted in March, I think. I'll keep you posted. Xander was one of the researchers!

So before I scoot off, here is this post's poem. I wrote this outside a pub, overlooking the River Dart in Totnes. It's entitled:

Glass Eye

Sat outside the Steam Packet
having a pint whilst waiting
for the traffic to die down.
Watching a mad old lady
who was sat watching me watch her.

She kept looking away
whilst taking comfort in sipping
at the frothy dregs
of her once was cappucino.

She threw some crumbs from her
hotel sized packet of Digestives
into the path of swooping Gulls.

She looked back at me looking at her
but me, pretending not to be,
quickly looked away and towards the tilted remnants
of my pint glass.

She chucked another
small handful of crumbs
into the air above the water.
Three Gulls swept down.
The last one went straight for the head,
sinking his hooked beak into her right eye
and gouging it out.

She looked back at me
looking at her, but with her left eye only,
the glass one.

"Damn birds" (she shrugged).

---------------------------------------

Goodnight,
G

You're Beautiful Like Bill

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 16:42:00 +0000

Second day, second posting;- that's commitment, that's dedication. That's me.

This house, within which my computer sits is actually not much warmer than the shed within which I reside during the times that I'm not in a pub or in the supermarket. Sorry, SUPERmarket. Again, fine use of the capitals I feel. But I'm not complaining, (about the warmth thing anyhow) because Miranda has just popped the heating on. Miranda (by the way) is Xander's girl friend. Xander is the tenant of the house and friend who took me in when I fled from Torquay last November. So, Miranda has just moved over from the US. She is a fine woman, well read, tolerant of my presence and enjoy's writing also. In fact, she had a short story published not that long ago in an American journal. You could read this by going onto her blog but I'm not sure what her address is yet but if she posts a comment then I'd imagine you'll be linked through to her writings that way. Hopefully/possibly. What I also like about Miranda is that her name rhymes with Xander. One day, if I get a girlfriend, I'd quite like her name to rhyme with mine. So that when we get invited to birthday's, dinners, weddings etc the invitors would smile when they write on the line, "Dear George and (rhyming girlfriend's name"). Because inevitably she would have to be called something like Lorg or Borg or Forge. Even if the invite was to a funeral they may still smile at that one? Or they may just think to themselves, "Jesus, why after all this time of him not getting a girlfriend does he finally start dating a girl with a really freaky name! Anyway, moving on.

Second day of blog posting, second day sober and it's 17:11. A bit warmer in the house but already dark outside. I'm going to go to Tesco on my way back to the shed and buy one of each root vegetable, chop 'em up and roast the fuckers. Roasted vegetables - brilliant. And whilst we're on the subject of food may I suggest that you (for those of you who find yourself susceptible to SADS or even, all year round misery and discontentment or just plain shelf-filling fever) purchase and consume vacuum-packed peppered Mackerel fillets. Very reasonably priced, certainly cheaper than swallowing tubs of Omega 3 tablets and far tastier than spreading Prozac on toast. Plus, you don't need a prescription for Mackerel.

You see that's the amazing thing about me finally getting into this blogging lark because not only do I give nutritional advice but also a FREE piece of George poetry with every posting.
This poem is from my first book, Derailed and is entitled:

You're Beautiful like Bill

You must have been a model?
That's where I've seen you.
In FHM,
Maxim,
Esquire, no?
Then Cosmopolitan.
Not that I'd read a birds' mag.
Not saying that you're a bird.
Bill Oddie likes birds
and I like Bill, but not as much
as you.

I tried growing a beard to be like Bill
when I was bored and unemployed.
My parents would be at work and my beard would be growing.
I'd get bored again when Countdown finished
and would slowly peruse through the lingerie section in the
Christmas Argos catalogue.
Perhaps that was you?
My favourite of them all.
But, then I wouldn't have done that
if that was you.
I respect you too much.
She can't have been my favourite.
You are.
Carol Vorderman - what a minger!
And I bet she cheats with a calculator.
You're just beautiful and intelligent.

I want to take you home to my mum and dad.
My mum will cook you a roast.
Amazing Yorkshire puddings, my mum,
just for you.
My brothers will want you roasted,
my sisters will baste you in the finest Goose fat
and my Dad will want to have you stuffed with root vegetables.
My brothers will turn you on a spit
-because my grandpa likes the crackling
and then my gran will carve you up into slices.
But you'll be far too good to eat.

So, it's probably best you don't come.

----------------------------------------

Off to Tesco, now.
Back to work tomorrow.
If I don't see you on Sunday at the Wheatsheaf Comedy night, (8pm - £3) I'll see you another day. For those of you who don't work Sat/Sun - have a pleasant weekend and I hope to write before my next day off, Wednes.

Goodnight,
g

I Wish I Was A Cat

noreply@blogger.com (george chopping) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 16:42:00 +0000

So, at last, here it is then, my blog: of words, commas, colons, oblique slashes and many other forms of inappropriately used punctuation; poems, updates of forthcoming performances and other 'George tit-bits' (but not like that).

I really should have set my own blog up donks' ago but unlike spiders, (because I eat them) I'm still a bit scared of computers, or rather doing things on them because (like spiders) I find that one (when "one" is me) tries to do the simplest of manoeuvres, with a rather precarious sweep of the cursor and then a left "click" and (not unlike spiders) this spider-stamping like left "click" will cause my lap-top to explode and simultaneously my right kidney to fly out of my arse. Anyway, thankfully that hasn't happened yet. So, I think we've covered that and so here is the blog of George Chopping. Please, read at your leisure and not whilst running, for example. Unless you run in your leisure time.

I will endeavour to post regularly although currently with very limited access to the internet whilst I reside, (temporarily) in a shed (that oddly doesn't have Broadband) I keep my computer at a good friend's house and use it there (when convenient, I hope?) rather than paying £40 for five minutes of internet time at Coffee Rip-off Republic where there Charles Babbagesk machines require tent peg mallet to depress the fucking keys. They might as well have the old BBC Acorns with fully functional keyboards and just charge £39 for five minutes instead. "AND AS FOR YOUR DAMN MARSHMALLOWS AND WHIPPED CREAM AND YOUR BLOODY million pound MOCHAS. I'd rather drink Agatha Christie's breast milk for free, thanks."

Lovely use of capital letters I thought. Anyhow, I 've calmed down now and as I mentioned spiders earlier I'd like to share with you, a poem about Cats (who also like to eat spiders). This poem is from my second book, Shelf-Life and is entitled:

I wish I was a Cat

Can't say fairer than that.
Sleeping most of the day,
winding up dogs,
pissing in litter trays.
Shitting in the soil,
-no stress,
flipping up dead mice
on my back legs,
like ping pong balls, perhaps?
Jumping from heights
and breaking the fall.
Being stroked by girls and sitting in their laps.
I just want to be a cat
-can't say fairer than that.

I wish I was a dog.
Being taken for walks when I say,
having the house to myself
when they're at work all day.
Pissing up lamp-posts,
shitting in the park,
-no stress,
flipping up dead cats on my back legs
like basket balls perhaps?
Being stroked by girls that I don't know,
sniffing at their crotches
and getting away with it.

-----------------------------

I've got to go now and hand the keys back but I'm performing in a Comedy night upstairs at The Wheatsheaf on the High Street, (opposite the Covered Market) Oxford this Sunday night. £3.
Might see you there?

Goodnight,
g