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.
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*
So, errm, yeah. It wasn't that bad. I actually enjoyed teaching on my own. I even dealt with bottom set, unruly second years today and did pretty well at it if I say so myself! I do need to improve my evening time management though. I can't cope on six hours sleep a night for very long.
That's all. Panic over. Stand down troops. As you were.
(P.S Massive thanks to everyone on Twitter who, despite half of them having never met me, were wonderfully supportive after my last blog)
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've just realised I'm fucking terrified. This has been brought on by the fact that I have to do my first solo teaching tomorrow. They're only 12 year olds but they can bit pretty scary. I think mostly I'm scared in case I'm no good at it. It's a long time since I properly used my French and I'm scared of making mistakes. I'm not used to not being good at stuff; when I was at school I was pretty much good at everything. I got less good at stuff as I progressed in my education but no-one read my university essays except me and my tutor so it didn't really matter that much. If I fuck this up there will be an actual teacher and 30 kids there to witness my failure.
On top of this I've got so much work to do for my course and I don't really know where to start. Well, that's not quite true; I'm going to start with a list just as soon as I've finished writing this. And I bought some new stationery today, surely that will help?
Mostly, I'm just fucking terrified that I've made a huge mistake in embarking on this teaching lark in the first place. I've never made a serious career decision before. I've pretty much just drifted along into whatever seemed the easiest at the time. And now I've given up a (admittedly boring, and not very well paid) job, my Dad has invested a chunk of his savings in my life (well, he's been doing that my whole life), and I'm scared that I've committed to do something for the rest of my life that I'm not even sure I want to do for the next six weeks.
I'm fairly sure this is just pre-show nerves as it were and once I actually start doing it I'll be OK. This isn't really like me. I usually give the impression of being sure of myself and in control but just now I don't feel like that at all. One of the reasons I left my old job in the holiday industry three years ago was because I often felt an underlying sense of impending doom. And now that feeling is back and I don't like it one tiny bit.
I've been so busy lately, and been having so much fun enjoying comedy adventures that I think I'd just pushed all this stuff down in the hope it would go away. And now there's no comedy to distract me it's coming bubbling back to the surface like those hot mud pool things that sort of burp and splutter their sulphurous gases out into the open.
Sorry. This is all a bit depressing. I hope for some improvement soon.
The weekend of Tim Minchin shows that I blogged about the other day was the middle weekend of my two week induction placement in school – the very first school experience of my teacher training course. Going away for the whole weekend probably wasn't the best idea but it was worth it. I was only observing classes in school, although I did do a little bit of teaching. And so far so good; I'm still pretty sure I've made the right decision to do this. I'm about to start a six week placement, back at the same school, and this time I'll actually be planning and teaching lessons so I hope I survive!
Anyway, after the Minchin shows in High Wycombe and Birmingham I didn't have too long to wait before I got to see the show again. Two weeks later on 8th October Tim played the first of his Scottish dates in Perth at the recently built Concert Hall. From what Tim has said these new venues, although great for the audience and very impressive to look at, are quite difficult to play as all the audience noise and applause is sucked away and doesn't make it to the stage. The show in Perth was brilliant, despite an audience who did seem a little slow on the uptake at times. I had another front row seat which is great, apart from getting completely spotlit during If I Didn't Have You and Storm when Tim is lit from behind. I think my favourite part of this show was the encore – there were lots of shouts from the audience for some old favourites and Tim treated to quite a few intros before settling on White Wine in the Sun. My shout for You Grew On Me went ignored, although when I complained that 'it's only just October' I earned myself the finger from Tim and the assertion that it was OK to play a song about Christmas because 'there are big socks in the shops'! I also met another couple of Angry(Feet) twitterers at the Perth gig – Helen (@glamlovinkitty) and Adam (@sturmwulfe) – which is always nice. I got a chance to have a quick word with Tim after the show too, where I gave him a birthday card which I had seen and couldn't resist because of the quote on the front – 'My opinions may change the older I get, but not the fact that I am right'. Pretty spot on I thought! We also had a bit of a discussion about whether or not Horton actually did hear a Who – provoked by my t-shirt, one of several I own with Minchin quotes on them.
The day after the Perth show came the show I had most been looking forward to in the whole tour. Tim was coming to The Alhambra in Dunfermline – not only my home town but the theatre where I volunteer as a steward – which meant I managed to get access to the theatre all day. Until the theatre manager decided I wasn't allowed due to Health and Safety issues, I helped unload all the lights and set from the truck and get everything set up on the stage. It was all very cool, and Tim's crew were all lovely. It must be a bit of a nightmare for them turning up at a different venue every day, never quite sure if everything they need will be there or not. Tim showed up with John, his tour manager, late afternoon and I was very excited to be able to witness some sound checking and warming up. I think the most surreal part of the day for me had to be actually scrubbing the ground at Tim's feet!! There had been a show called 'Vampire's Rock' in the theatre a few days before and there was still some fake blood on the stage which wouldn't come off with mopping so while Tim stood at the mic singing a little bit of If I Didn't Have You, I cleaned up the fake blood – surely not an experience that every Tim Minchin fan gets to have?!
The show itself was awesome as ever, apart from a ridiculous number of people with conveniently weak bladders getting up and down throughout the show (Tim had stopped and waited for a boy who got up and walked right across the front of the audience causing much hilarity, but unfortunately encouraging a lot of copy-cat wee-ers). Shell had come up for the show (and the Edinburgh and Glasgow shows which followed) so we went out for a drink afterwards as we weren't sure whether Tim would come out or not (due to the presence of the legendary Karen Coren) and the fact that it was pissing with rain. The whole day was certainly a brilliant experience and one I felt lucky to have.
The third, and last, of the Scottish dates that was going to was in Edinburgh the following day. And it brought another visitor – Kate (@kateweb) came up on the train and after meeting her at the station we headed to a pub next to the very impressive Usher Hall. Before the gig we met up with Shell again, and also Helen and Adam who were back for a second dose of Tim. The venue was particularly impressive in Edinburgh – a big, round, concert hall which has recently been refurbished. Again it was great from an audience perspective (Kate and I had front row seats again) but from what Tim said after it was another venue where he felt a bit detached from the audience reaction. We hung around after the show and got a chance to have a chat with Tim again which was pretty cool – I do wonder if he ever gets fed up of us waiting after shows and wishes we would just leave him alone. If he does then he certainly hides it very well, for which I am grateful!
When tickets for the Scottish shows went on sale I convinced myself that three shows in a row was plenty and didn't get a ticket for the Glasgow show. After the Edinburgh show though, and knowing that the others were all going to the Glasgow show I changed my mind! Unfortunately for me the show was sold out and despite my best efforts I couldn't get my hands on a ticket. Still, I only had a three week wait before seeing the show again. On the 23rd and 24th October I went to two out the three sold out shows at the Hammersmith Apollo – the second of which was being recorded for a DVD. But before that I had plenty of other excitement planned – and that deserves a post of its own so for now I'll leave this here.
I love meeting random strangers. So much so I've started activly seeking them out on omegle
Here is some highlights:
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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.
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You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hi
Stranger: want to talk dirty?
You have disconnected.
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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
