Kevin Bridges: The Story Continues (2012) – Full Transcript






ANNOUNCER: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Kevin Bridges!



Cheers. Thank you, all. Hello! (CHUCKLES) Yeah!


(CHUCKLES) Good evening, Glasgow.


Thanks for that. Good to be here. Good to be back. How we feelin’? Feelin’ good? Thanks for that beautiful welcome there. Thanks for coming out. I appreciate that. First of all, spending your hard-earned dosh, on a ticket to see me, in these tough times. Thanks very much for that, means a lot. – Sold-out show. Yeah!


(CHUCKLES) In these tough times, spending your hard-earned dosh on a ticket to see any comedian this year knowing that there’s a good chance we’re paying fuck all tax. Well done for that. People thought Jimmy Carr got it bad. Wait till the press hear about me. I’m still signin’ on. That’s just a wee joke there, wee ice-breaker before anybody’s fuckin’… Shock revelation. I don’t get these guys, dodgin’ tax. How much fucking money do you need? These super-rich guys with, like, 30 million pound in offshore accounts. If you’ve got 30 million pound, don’t put it in an offshore account. Put it in a current account, and fucking look at it. I would never pass a cash machine again. “Just gonna go and press ‘display balance’ here, guys. “Your balance is 30 million pound. “Today you may withdraw 300 quid.”

A double-dip recession. That’s what they’re callin’ it. That’s what we’re in – double dip. I don’t even know what that means. That used to be a good thing. Double dip. Since when was that a negative? These fucking bankers have ruined Dib Dabs. I used to think of orange and cherry sherbet with a swizzle stick. Now you think of government cuts. I don’t fully understand it. I read last week, America, they’re in 16 trillion dollars of debt. That is fucking unacceptable, innit? How the fuck do you get into 16 trillion dollars? Surely somebody at the IMF’s gotta get on the phone, “Look, you’ve fucking got till Friday. “Trying to make us look like pricks here? 16 trillion?” America are skint, Europe are skint. I hope Africa have got some good rock bands ’cause we need a concert.


(CHUCKLES) That’s my solution. It’s their fucking round! (CHUCKLES) They can show some appeal videos. This is Gordon and Diane from Bishopbriggs. “Oh, I cannae watch these videos. “Why do they always show you this stuff when you’re having your tea? “Do you notice that?” Gordon and Diane, like so many others, took out a fixed-rate mortgage. Everybody’s going, “Oh, fucking… “The world can be such a fuckin’ cruel place. “Puts things into perspective. It was only this morning I had the cheek to moan “about having to walk 20 miles for clean water. Then you fucking see this.” Every time I click my fingers, a newly married couple from Dumfries have a credit card application rejected.

A double-dip recession. I’ve got mates that have lost their job. I know people who have went beyond unemployed. I’ve got people in my social circle… I’ve got friends who I can only describe as being unemployed as fuck. (LAUGHTER) I know that’s not fully utilising the English language, but that’s what’s being created these days. People who have just been forgotten about, people who are unemployed as fuck! They’ve just been forced to embrace the rut they’re in. They’re sat at home. They’ve got their routines. Homes Under the Hammer, then it’s Man Versus Food. They’re fuckin’ adamant they’ve been mis-sold PPI. Every 15 minutes you see that advert. On the phone, “Where’s my fucking PPI then? “I don’t know what it stands for, but I would like it back. “I need that money so I can adopt a snow leopard.”

I feel for them. It must be tough under the Coalition government, I love their proposals for the job crisis, David Cameron and thay guys, the Work Experience Programmes creating jobs for people. Just like normal jobs. The only difference being you don’t get paid. If you’re unemployed you get to work, but you don’t get any wages. But it’s to boost your self-esteem. That’s how fucking condescending… That’s what people need. Last Friday of the month I’m gonna go and check and see if my self-esteem’s in. Feelin’ a bit low. Oh, thank the Lord, it’s self-esteem Friday. Gonna try and pay these bills. “Hi, is that British Gas? “Listen, mate, I’m skint but I feel terrific. “I’m wonderin’, are you prepared to accept self-esteem? “Or maybe I can go on Skype and just smile at you. How’s that?”

To stop people slipping into depression, David Cameron said about the Work Experience Programmes. Poundstretcher, they were one of the first shops to sign up to these programmes. Workin’ in Poundstretcher for no wages, that’s pretty fuckin’ depressin’. Working in a shop where everything is worth a quid except you.


(CHUCKLES) That’s about as depressin’ as it gets. You look at these guys, what the fuck would David Cameron know about being unemployed? He’s never been unemployed as fuck. He’s never… David Cameron’s never woke up at 3:00 in the afternoon. He’s never had a packet of Flamin’ Hot Monster Munch for his breakfast. (CHUCKLES) David Cameron’s never known that feeling of wakin’ up at 3:00 in the afternoon, and your only goal for the day is to try and piss a skid mark off the inside of your toilet.


(CHUCKLES) Know when you start seeing that as a challenge? “Okay, that’s been three days. That’s ridiculous. “I could use the brush, but that’s admitting defeat. (CHUCKLES) “Gonna get a glass of water, I’m gonna fuckin’ reload here. “I’ll be two minutes, just tryin’ to get a hard-on. Get a bit of pressure on this.”

David Cameron… I reckon even Nick Clegg, even that fuckin’ guy, regrets gettin’ involved with David Cameron. I reckon Nick Clegg… I look at that guy, I think he’s only guilty of that thing that I’ve done myself. And I’d imagine most of you here have done. You know when you meet somebody on your first day in a new job, or on a new course, and you hit it off… “Found a new buddy.” Next day, they’re waiting for you at the breaks. “Found a new friend.” But as the days and the weeks go on, you slowly begin to discover that your new pal is a fuckin’ dick! And everybody else knows the guy’s a bell-end, but it’s too late for you. You’ve committed and you’re now known as “the bell-end’s pal”.

I’m not really a big political guy. Scottish independence, that’s been getting talked about. We’re havin’ a…


Couple of… “Fuckin’ freedom.” Yes, yes.


People booin’, people cheerin’. I don’t think anything’s gonna get resolved at a comedy show, but… feel free to vent your opinions. 2014, that’s when they’re having the referendum. That’s because it’s 700 years after the Battle of Bannockburn, that’s to get us fuckin’ patriotic, and you… you know we’re gonna show Braveheart the night before that referendum. STV, 9:00. As sure as fuck! Braveheart. I reckon we should also show Trainspotting, just to even it. “Come on. Fuckin’ freedom! That’s us. “Ooh, that’s also us.”

We’re quite an open-minded country, Scotland. I seen something quite refreshing. We had an anti-immigration demo — seen this in the paper — in Irvine, that’s where they had an anti-immigration demo. In Irvine, a place that has got fuck all and nobody would move to. That’s where they had the anti-immigration demo.


And it was quite refreshing that only 18 people showed up, I read that in the paper. There’d be a bigger turnout if the wave machine broke in the Magnum Centre. That would have been a turnout. That would have been a demo. There would have been fuckin’ animosity. “I fuckin’ brought the wee man down! “And the wave machine is not working.” “Go and finish your Slush Puppie, son. Daddy’s gonna speak to the man.” I was about 13 before I discovered that sentence, “Daddy’s gonna speak to the man,” means “Mummy’ll pick you up from the police station.”

I don’t really have an opinion on Scottish independence. I suppose I’m in the “Fuck it! It’ll be a laugh” camp. Maybe. Fuck it, it’ll be a laugh. Maybe, 50 years’ time you’ll turn on the National Geographic Channel, see programmes like Scottish Border Cops. Two guys in the airport interrogating some poor guy from fuckin’ Leamington Spa. Not like real cops, just thay Rock Steady guys. Know thay G4S guys that have… swapped their personality for a Hi Visjacket? Know thay guys? (AUDIENCE APPLAUD) (CHUCKLES) I would watch that. Scottish Border Cops. Goin’ through the guy’s bag, “And what’s this?” “It’s a banana. Why, are those illegal?” “I never said they were illegal, pal, but we don’t fuckin’ like them.”

Have we got any English in? Whoo! Just one person there. I don’t think we’re anti-English, Scotland. People… People confuse us for… (ENGLISH ACCENT) “Why don’t you support us in major football tournaments? “Every two years… Let me get this straight. “You actively support the other teams because they’re playing England?” “That’s pretty much it, mate. Uh-huh.” (CHUCKLING)


That’s… That’s nothing anti-English, though, that’s just the England football team. Guys like fuckin’ John Terry. Oh, he’s quit, but… I look at John Terry in the papers, I think he looks like the kind of guy, if he never made it as a footballer, you would see him outside a pub in Tenerife or somewhere going, “You guys want a free shot tonight? “What’s your plan tonight, lads? “Comin’ down the Bull’s Head for free sambuca? “Coming down? “You love it, mate. Loads of girls, free shots, come on down. “Just say John-o sent you. Big JT. Fuckin’ free shot, mate.”

Scottish football, we’re goin’ through an interesting period there. (CHUCKLES)


Feel the fuckin’ division in the camp there. I only said “Scottish football”. People going, “Just you fuckin’ tread carefully, pal.” (CHUCKLES) I remember watching a Danny Dyer documentary about the Old Firm. And it was good to see somebody like him… Danny Dyer, he’s the prick’s prick, isn’t he? (CHUCKLES)


It was good to see him… You know sometimes you just flick through the channels and you see he’s on – Britain’s Most Deadliest Men, him talking to some big wall puncher. Guy’s going, “I’m the kind of bloke, “if you don’t mess with me, it’ll be all right, “but if you mess with me, I’ll fuck you up.” Danny Dyer’s going, “Can I be your friend?” He done a special on football rivalries and he was outside Ibrox in the morning of an Old Firm game. And he’s talking to the camera, this guy. It made me laugh. He’s going, “Celtic are the Catholics, and Rangers are the Protestants. “I’m outside the stadium on Old Firm day. “One of football’s most deadliest rivalries. “I’m here outside the stadium on match day, “and I’m not afraid to say “I am fuckin’ shakin’.” (CHUCKLES) There’s people walking behind him, just waving at the camera, going… It was like half-ten on a Sunday mornin’. He’s going, “I’m a fuckin’ tough bloke, I’ve seen some stuff, “but today I’m fuckin’ petrified.” A guy walks behind him with a bacon roll and a cup of tea. He says, “Come on, the Rangers!” He’s goin’, “It’s fuckin’ kicked off now!”

Oh, it’s a tough one to explain, Scottish football. (ENGLISH ACCENT) “What actually happened up there? Wasn’t it a two-horse race?” That’s it, mate, and we lost the horse. That’s about… Scottish football’s become showjumpin’. (CHUCKLES)

I don’t know how they feel in… I know we’re fuckin’ gettin’ a wee bit tense in there, but I had to laugh at it. Rangers Football Club, they owed a lot of fuckin’ people money. I read a list of everybody that was owed money and it just got fuckin’ surreal. They owed, like, 60 quid to a local news agent. These small sums that made it mental. 60 quid to a local taxi firm. And then the one that made me chuckle. It said £40 was owed to a local Glasgow face paintin’ company. And I had to read it a few times. “Does that say face paintin’ company? “How the fuck did they… “40 quid to a face paintin’ company?” And the newspaper article never explained why. There was no backup information, just left that there. As if that’s a common footballing expense. A face paintin’ company. The club have been in financial meltdown. And there’s some guy running about the boardroom, kiddin’ on he’s a fucking tiger.


Some guy… Some guy just opening doors, going… (GROWLS) What the fuck was goin’ on? “I dare you to do the chairman.” “I fuckin’ will do the chairman.” (GROWLS) The boardroom going, “Will you go and wash your face, you fuckin’ idiot? “Trying to fix these accounts here. Sorry about him, boys. “Fuckin’ 40 quid he spent on that.” “Oh, 40 quid. Aye, but it’s a fuckin’ cracker. Did you see his whiskers?” I’ve never understood that. The religious divide. I’ve never understood that. One side shouting, “Fuck the Pope” and the other side shouting, “God bless the Pope.” I don’t think the Pope gives a fuck about the SPL. I think the Pope’s a Bundesliga man.


There we go. (GROWLS) Hallo… Halloween’s comin’ up. I think that’s quite a hallucinogenic experience, Halloween. In this city. Any UK city. Hallo… Because we don’t really… in Scotland and England, we don’t really have a laid-back festival carnival culture. Everybody gets dressed up, but there’s still… there’s still violence on the streets. I’ve walked down Sauciehall Street on Halloween and I’ve thought I was on something. Just… Everybody’s dressed up but emotions still run high, they’re by no means in high spirits. There’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles kickin’ fuck out of SpongeBob SquarePants. Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, she’s eatin’ chips and cheese, shoutin’, “Barry, fuckin’ leave him!” Buzz Lightyear and Woody handcuffed up against a shop window. “Watch this, Buzz.” “You’re my favourite deputy!” “You’re gonna get us a weekender, you fuckin’ knob. Shut up.” (GROWLS)

Uh… Big summer of sport, we did have. We had, er… we had the Olympics, don’t know if we enjoyed that. The Olympics. Yeah!



Somebody booing the Olympics there. (CHUCKLES) I fuckin’ hated it. I hate PE. Fuckin’ boo. I enjoyed it. Usain Bolt, that’s a great name, innit? You can make his name sound quite confrontational. “You sayin’? (TUTS) Bolt.” That’s his middle name, atut. “You sayin’? (TUTS) Bolt.” Olympics. I enjoyed the Olympics and the Paralympics. I enjoyed the whole thing. Thought it was pretty good. See, the prefix “para”, it means “parallel”, that’s why they call it the Paralympics. Parallel, it runs parallel with the actual Olympics. See, “para” to me and people my age, I’ve always associated that with “paranoia”. If you describe somebody as being a bit para, it means they’ve just had too many good weekends. And their brain has just said, “Fuck this, I’m outta here. “You can do the rest yourself. I’m just gonna…” You know the guys you see in house parties about 8:00 in the morning, long after the party’s finished. Just sittin’ on the couch wearing somebody’s mum’s dress.


Both their eyebrows missin’. That’s somebody you would say, “He looks a bit para.” I laughed this year when I seen “Paralympics”. “How fuckin’ good would that be?” An athletics event for acid casualties. I’d go to that. Just a thought I had, the Para-lympics. See some guy shattering the 100 metre record ’cause he thought the police were chasing him. Commentator, “And what made this even more special, “was he completed the entire race with his head over his left shoulder “whilst frantically emptying his pockets on to the track.” They could have a false start at the Para-lympics. “The fuckin’ voice in my head said go.” The divin’. Some guy up the top of the divin’ board just refusin’ to jump. “No chance. That’s the fuckin’ shallow end.”

How about you, big guy. Do you play any sports? The guy with the biceps there. Yeah, yeah. Olympics get you inspired, no? Get involved, no? He plays sports. What do you play?

Anything you want.

Anything you want to play. I’m not seeing if you’re comin’ out, I’m just asking. I’m not at your fuckin’ door with a ball under my arm. It’s not the summer holidays, and we’re not ten. I’m just asking, do you play? I’m kind of busy the noo for a game of kerby. I’m just askin’… “Anything you want to play.” Aye, it’s pishin’ doon. “Will we just play the computer? Sit in?”

Do you play computer games? No? You don’t play. I gave up on them. I played COD. That’s what my wee cousin said, “You need to get COD. Call of Duty.” I’ll explain that to anybody over 40. It’s the biggest selling computer game of all time. It’s Call of Duty. The kids call it COD. I’ll just explain that in case you ever get invited over for a game of COD. And you show up with the wrong fuckin’ stuff. Walk into your nephew’s living room, start fuckin’ slappin’ people. “I bet you never thought Uncle Eddie could play COD, boys, eh? “I was the old West of Scotland semi-finalist in the eighties at COD, fuckin’ love it. “Still got it. After this we’ll play smoked haddock. “Same rules, different fish. “That is fuckin’ mingin’, Uncle Eddie. “Sorry about him, boys. He’s a fuckin’ fanny.” I was always the PlayStation generation growing up. I was always terrified. You play COD these days, it’s too real. It’s a war game. You control this guy in a war zone. It’s high-definition graphics, there’s a storyline. See, I’m used to the old days. You played a computer game and your guy would die. So you would just go back to the start and then try again. And it was fun. These games, Call of Duty, your guy dies, you’re fucking stunned. I better go and buy a poppy. You start to feel guilt. “I better… “I better go and lay a wreath for this guy.” Picture myself standing there, people saying, “Oh, who did you know?” “Oh, I knew a guy called Player 1.” The window cleaner came to my door for his money, and I forgot to press “pause”.

So you don’t play much sport then? Big guy, what’s your name?

Me? Chris.

Chris? Your name’s Chris. Good man, Chris. I was always petrified of playing sport. When I was young, at school… I blame the managers. That’s the problem with youth development in football in this country. Go to your local playing fields on a Saturday morning and watch these guys who manage under-tens. Go, if you’ve got a relative involved. Otherwise, it can look a bit dubious if you just sort of show up every week. I watch these guys. These guys, they’ve got their initials stitched on to their tracksuit, on the touchline. They’ve got an earpiece in, so they can communicate to their assistant manager. He’s sitting up on a fucking tree. They’ve got a pair of Adidas Sambas on, football socks pulled up, a pair of nice, tight shorts, nice eighties-style. They’re just screaming abuse. That’s what put me off. Terrifying, these guys. Just going, “Jamie, come inside.” Just screaming demoralising abuse at 9-year-olds. “Come inside, son. Jamie, Jamie. None of that fancy stuff… “Oh, fuck you, Jamie! “That’s why your mum’s an alky, ya wee prick. “I know, George, but it’s every fucking Saturday!”

Big summer of sport. Did you go on any holidays this summer, Chris? You’re going next week? Where are you going? Going to Florida? Good man. They don’t understand a fucking word I say. I done a gig in America. And after the gig, a guy said to me, (IN AMERICAN ACCENT) “Uh, hey, buddy, “uh, are you actually Scottish?” And I said, “Yes.” A bit of your soul dies when you say, “Yes.” You’re used to saying, “Aye.” You feel your brain giving you a wanker sign. “Yes!” He said, “Are you actually Scottish?” And I said, “Yes.” And he said, “Man, your English is so good.”

I went away this year. I went away with my mates. I went on a lads’ holiday this year for the first time. I’ve always seen… I went away. Done a bit of flying. The airport… Still annoying, 11 years since 9/11 and Bin Laden’s dead. And they’re still asking to check the bottom of your shoes ’cause you’re still not allowed on board the plane with dog shite. Right? I know. Everybody still getting their toiletries put in the bin, your brand-new holiday toiletries. Surely, airport security staff can now distinguish between terrorists and talented people. You see, hijacking a plane with a knife and flying it into a building, that’s terrorism. However, blowing up a plane with a bottle of Pantene Pro-V conditioner, that’s a fucking achievement. If somebody was to stand up on my flight and shout, “Nobody fucking move. “Hit the deck, fuckers. It’s shampoo time.” I’d imagine I would laugh. Do they think people are gonna be in a frenzy, going… “Just stand back. Don’t approach him. He’s got L’Oréal. It’s not worth it.”

I went on a holiday. And you see it from a different perspective when you go on holiday with your friends for the first time. I’ve always seen them in action. But when you actually go on one, a boys’ or a girls’ holiday, the holiday starts months in advance. The day you go and book the holiday, that’s a wee holiday in itself. “Saturday morning, get a couple of cans, let’s get fucking steaming. “Go and book this.” You don’t just send a couple of representatives. About 18 of you go to the travel agent. Fucking boot the door off the hinges. “Get us tae fuck.” “The deal in the window, times 18.” Of the original 18 who sign up, only four will make it. It’s a bit like a boot camp. “Unemployed as fuck” mates, they are the first ones to bail on you. They fall at the first huddle. “Don’t know if I can go, lads, unless my PPI comes in.” “Do you think Thomas Cook will take self-esteem?”

I went away. I went away for two weeks with my mates. That’s a mistake that you make once in your life, going on a holiday with your friends for two weeks. You go on holiday with your friends for two weeks, you will discover that you have no friends. The second week you start to feel feelings of overwhelming anger. You don’t even know why you’re furious. Inhuman levels of fucking rage. Just sitting at the side of the pool with a hat on, shorts, sunburn right up to there and sunburn to here. Your t-shirt still damp ’cause you’ve been in the pool. Just sitting there fuckin’ raging. “See that fucking prick? “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” “Why, what’s he done?” “Just fucking look at him.” “The way he reads the paper, he turns the page and, ‘Ew, ew’ “He fucking knows it annoys me!” (CHUCKLING) “I fuckin’ hate him.”

You see the real guys on your plane. We were the newcomers. You see the professional lads’ holidays with their t-shirts made. They’re on your plane, nicknames on the t-shirts. “Shagger”, “Rambo”, “Craigie”, “Ginge”, that’s the four accepted nicknames for a professional, class of ’97, guys who have made bail money in Pesetas and Escudos. They’re the guys on your plane hitting the call-bell 40,000 feet saying, “Excuse me, mate,” “gonna give that CD to the pilot? Tell him Track 10.” Know when you’re that drunk, it’s only your finger that can move? They’re still trying to buy more alcohol. The cabin crew are saying, “You do realise, guys,” “that one alcoholic drink consumed in the sky” “it’s the equivalent of two consumed on the ground?” “Hey, do you hear that, Craigie?” “Fuckin’ wake up, guy said it’s two for ones, mate. Get up.” “Get up, you prick. It’s happy hour.” They’re the real guys.

I went to the south of Spain on holiday. I try to be a bit more cultured. I’ve been trying to learn Spanish for about a year. I was fed up being abroad and having people translate for me into English. That’s pretty humiliating, innit, as a Scottish person? You walk into a pub and say, “Are you still serving food?” “Uh, qué?” (IN ENGLISH ACCENT) “He asked you, are you still serving food?” “Ah, sí, sí, sí.” Then the guy swans away as if he’s fucking bilingual. “That’s what I said.” In America… I had a can of Coke in America. I was looking for a bin. I just said to a guy… Just an everyday task, just an everyday question, “Where’s the bin?” The guy was even sweeping up and he had a jacket on. It was obvious he worked in the bin industry. I said, “Mate, where’s the bin?” And it just became a situation. The guy just sort of looked at me. You know the way your dog looks at you when it catches you having a wank? “A bin. A bin.” There’s only three letters and one syllable. How many variations in the word “bin” can be offered? A bin. I’ve got to a stage of speaking Spanish… Have we got any Spanish people in?

MAN: Yeah.

Just one guy at the back. What bit of Spain are you from, mate? Fuckin’ Provanmill, Royston or something? “Yes!” I’ve got to a stage, I can say things in Spanish that Spanish people can already say in English. That’s where I’m at. I’ve got the tourist stuff kind of nailed, like… Una mesa para cuatro, por favor. That means, Chris, “A table for four, please.” I’ve got these discs. The guy says it a few times. He says, “Una mesa… “…para cuatro… “…por favor.” (IN ENGLISH ACCENT) “A table for four please.” That’s the kind of shit I sit and listen to. Then he says it again and again. Una… …mesa… …para cuatro… …por favor. “A table for four, please.” And they say it again. They actually say it that many times, I started drifting off and imagining if anybody has ever been found fucking dead listening to these, just… Suicide note wrote in broken Spanish. Have all got too… Muchas. Una mesa… …para cuatro… …por favor. “A table for four, please.” That was the only bit I took in. That’s crucial knowledge, ’cause I know that when me and three associates walk into a restaurant in Spain, I can tell the headwaiter is looking at us and thinking, “Well, I wonder what the fuck these guys want.” But fortunately, I’m on hand to diffuse the situation. I have been thoroughly briefed. I step forward to showcase my new skills. I say, “Una mesa… “…para cuatro… “…por favor.” And it came true. We get sat at a table for four. The guy brought the menu. In Spanish. Then I fucking crumbled. Other three, they’re losing their minds, going, “What the fuck’s a hamburgeresa?” Huh? “I don’t trust this place. I’m goin’ to McDonalds.”

Everybody goes on about the Glasgow accent. I don’t think it’s that bad. You hear some accents that are pretty hard to understand. I seen something beautiful on holiday. I went to a karaoke bar. I never sing, I just went to watch. And a Scouser came on stage. And it’s a universal must-see. It was my holiday highlight watching this guy from Liverpool on the stage in a karaoke bar. One of the funniest things I’ve ever fucking seen. And the guy never meant it to be funny. I felt a bit bad. He was singing his fucking heart out. And I’m in the corner, pissing my pants laughing. He’s just there with his girlfriend and he was up. He was singing that Lady Gaga song, Alejandro. He’s going…

(IN SCOUSE ACCENT) # Don’t call me name # Don’t call me name #Alejandro # I’m not your babe I’m not your babe, Fernando #Ale-Alejandro, Ale-Alejandro #

I’m sitting there going, “This guy does not even know how fucking good this is to watch “as an outsider.” And he gets up again. He’s going…

# Baby, you’re a firework#

The whole pub’s in the car park thinkin’ the fire alarm’s going off. I got asked last week, “What kind of music do you like, Kev?” I don’t know. I don’t have a fucking clue. Modern stuff, just sounds the same to me. Everything’s just all that R&B stuff, bit like, these days, isn’t it? In Da Club, all that sort of stuff.

# Everybody in da club In da club #

That’s the way every song sounds to me.

# In da club, in da club In da club #

They just speak in a language I don’t get.

# Everybody gonna shuffle on down In da club # We’re getting freaky In da club # I’m feeling sexy In da club # In da club, in da club, In da club, in da club # DJ spinning my song In da club # In da club #

Everything happens in this club with these pricks, innit?

# We ain’t gonna stop till it’s time to start again # In da club # In da club, in da club, in da club #

Know songs that just make you feel thick? You actually feel it deleting cookies in your brain.

# In da club, in da club, in da club #

And the song finishes and you think, “Fucking hell, I now know less stuff. “I’ve just forgot the difference between a pastoral and an arable farm. “What the fuck? Did I just forget standard-grade geography there “’cause of that song?”

# In da club, in da club, in da club #

Even their names, That guy, how do you get to that stage in your celebrity status? His name is William. You just decide to start putting full stops in the middle. If I was to request to be known as Kev.i.n, I’d get a fucking slap in the face. If I was to sit my dad down and say, “Dad, I’m thinking about reinventing myself as Kev.i.n.” He’d be sayin’… “Just run that by me again, son. “Want to step outside, talk me through this?”

Like that song, Bruno Mars, that’s when I lost a bit of faith in modern music. “I’d catch a grenade for you”, that song. I heard that a few years ago. It was on a lot.

# I’d catch a grenade for you#

I was like, “That’s what passes for romance these days.” That’s a love song in the modern day. “I would catch a grenade for you.” That’s a guy singing about the depths of his love for what I’m guessing is his girlfriend, that he’s prepared to catch… I don’t mean to offer the guy relationship advice, but if you’re dating somebody who people are chucking grenades at… (WOMAN WHOOPS) …that’s your first fucking problem right there. “Is that an ex of yours? Fucking hell.” Where does he plan on taking her? A romantic stroll down the Helmand Province? “Come on. “I’ll fucking catch them. Come on. “Come on. Come on. “Oh, you’re so cute when you worry. “Come on. “Oh, don’t worry. I fucking caught it. There you go.” It’s the kind of girl your mum would say, “I think you can do a bit better than that, son.”

I like a bit of honesty in my song lyrics. If I was singing a love song, I’d be singing promises I could deliver. “I would take a dead arm for you.” I’d listen to that, “I’d take a deidie…” # I’d take a deidie for you# “I’d take a right good fucking slagging for you.”

Aye, we like our celebrity these days. We like that. A bit of celebrity culture. I’m the same. I watch these fucking chat shows with all these plant pots like Nicole Scherzinger and Nicky Manaj and Madonna and all these people just… I’ve been on chat shows with these fucking types. You know, they’re goin’, “Yeah.” You know, that self-absorbed… I would love to host a chat show… Been thinking about this. I’d love to host a chat show…


I would call it Did Ye? Aye? ‘Cause that is the only thing I think when I watch these people, you know, that self-absorbed… just lack of humility when they start whinging. (IN AMERICAN ACCENT) “You know, man, after the incident, “which I’m not prepared to talk about, “uh, I guess I disappeared into a bad place. “You know, I went to a dark place “and I didn’t even know myself any more. “I was pretty low. I looked in the mirror and I didn’t even know “who that guy was any more, man. “That was a tough time for me. “But I realise now that I had to go to that place “to survive. “I had to go to that place and survive to get to this place, you know, man? “I had to go there to get here.” “Oh, did ye? Aye?”

Just that one dismissive term and then just leaving it hanging, just offering a vacant stare in return. Till the studio audience – the tension’s unbearable. Occasionally breaking the stare to give the crowd the “Who’s this prick?” look. (IN AMERICAN ACCENT) “Yeah, there’s so many different me’s, you know? “There’s happy me, angry me… “And you do not want to see angry me. “And I guess I was becoming this new me “that you guys in the media had created, “and you know, I get tired.” “Oh, did ye? Aye?”

It’s like, at school… Remember at school when somebody was talking shite, you could just counter their claims by going, “Bah, bah, bah!” That’s how I feel when I watch a celebrity chat. “Did ye? Aye? Bah, bah, bah!”

Some aspects of school life should have continued long into adulthood. That’s number one in the list. When somebody’s talking fucking nonsense, that should remain a valid retort. “Bah, bah, bah!” That made me laugh at 10. It makes me laugh at 25. I’ll fucking… I’ll laugh at that when I’m in my 80’s. I’ll be in a nursing home. There’ll be some care worker saying, “Mr Bridges, I hope you know your grandchildren are so excited” “to come and visit you on Sunday.” “Isn’t that nice, really?” “They can’t wait to come and see you.” “They’re so excited to come and spend the whole day with you.” And I’ll be going, “Bah, bah, bah!”

I fucking hated school. I could never even enjoy the weekends at primary school. I could never even enjoy the weekends for worrying about going back on the Monday. Remember that? I used to get a gut-wrenching feeling on Sundays. It was the telly programs like Lovejoy and London’s Burning and then Heartbeat. Oh. You used to have that “school in the morning” telly. The Heartbeat theme tune would come on. Just feels as if it’s goin’ fuckin’ in your arse and ripping your spirit out through your arsehole. Oh! (GROANING) That’s my spirit leaving my arse again. (GROANING) (VOCALISING HEARTBEATS THEME) (GROANING) # Heartbeat… “Oh, you…” # Why do you… fucking school in the fucking morning# Claude Greengrass, how come every time he’s on the telly, I need to go for a bath? Old bastard.

I enjoyed high school. Used to do that… used to play a bit of truant. I need to call it “playin’ truant” ’cause we’ve got a DVD. Don’t want to talk about fucking “dogging” in case there’s English watching it. (IN ENGLISH ACCENT) “Is he talking about his school days” “and he was going dogging?” “Should we reopen this case? Is that what you mean?” Playing’ truant up here, it’s called dogging. I used to like that. I never done it a lot. I just used to go in… Maybe a wee… One Friday a month. One Friday. Always a Friday. Take a wee voluntary day off, get as far as registration. Say, “Here, miss”, and then fuck off. Back to somebody’s mum and dad’s house about 9:30. They’d be at work, place to ourselves. And we always had a mate who would always show up at these playin’ truant or dogging sessions. He always used to have pornos on him. That was his thing. He loved pornos. Not porn. Pornos. And they came in magazine format and VHS format and then, towards the latter stages, in DVD format. Everybody liked a bit of porn, but this wee guy was fucking fascinated. Porn was his thing, right. Never seen him since school. Wee weirdo, kind of… Liked burning stuff and all that. You know, one of thay guys? Put a bit of shite on a stick and chase you. You’d leave your lunch and you’d come back and there’s a fucking pube in it. And he’s going… (CHUCKLES MISCHIEVOUSLY)

There was one day, we were playin’ truant, full house, and he’d brought along his school bag. He had some porn in it. And from the porn bag, he produced a porn DVD and it was genuinely entitled, Anal Pandemonium 5. That’s what he pulled out. That was the title. That title will stick with you your whole life. Anal Pandemonium 5. Right, so you look at it. Thinkin’, “Fuckin’… This is… This is monumental. “The first time I’ve ever seen the DVD cover of Anal Pandemonium 5. “I don’t know if this is… “I’m just at the Red Shoe Diaries. “Am I getting fast tracked here?” But it was unanimous. Only one option for the afternoon’s entertainment, stuck it on the DVD player. None of us had seen the first four but we’re getting the gist. Everybody transfixed on it. Porno. Five, ten minutes in, wee weirdo guy, he got up, and he left the sitting area, and went upstairs to the bathroom and upon his return, it was noted he was gone too long to be taking a piss… but not long enough to be doing a shite. Accusations begin to fly, Anal Pandemonium 5 gets paused. “Fucking pause that till we speak to this pervert here.” One of thay big unmistakable… “We are watching porn” pauses, dildos lying on the… Nobody’s gonna walk in and go, “What’s that you’re watching?” Just fucking filth! That was the backdrop for this interrogation! And he went on the defensive, he said… We’re going, (INHALES) “Where have you been, you fucking dirty bastard?” And he’s going, “Oh, whoa, whoa…” He said, “I was just upstairs.” He said, “I was taking a shite.” And we’re looking at the time, trying to do the maths, thinking, “A shite? In that time? “Did you forget to wipe your arse?” And he said, “No, “it was a ghostie!” Immediately, we’re on the back foot, we never even considered that an option. A ghostie… The perfect shite, not one sheet of toilet roll required. Not a flush is needed. The environment does not get damaged in the slightest. Just casually strolls right out, “Don’t mind me, mate, nothing to see.” Hits the water, cheerio. “Nothing. But I’m sure I… “I’m sure I took a shite there. “It felt like a shite. “It smells like a shite. “I needed a shite, I now no longer need a shite. “But I cannot seem to locate a shite.” It’s like Keyser Söze, just fucking gone. That was it. We even apologised to the guy, “Sorry, mate, we thought… “I won’t even mention what we thought, here, go have your… “Back to your seat there, un-pause the feature.” He was doing a shite.

Big fan of… I just realised I just said “shite” about 10 times. Shite’s a great word innit? Underused. It’s only Scotland and Ireland, we still keep that strong, “Shite!” Don’t like “Shit!” Shit has become a utility word. Shite… Shite means shite! Shit means anything these days, “Do you want to smoke some of that shit?” “I’m really diggin’ your shit!” “I need to go home and pack my shit.” You could never put “shite” in thay sentences. (APPLAUSE) “Do you want to smoke some of that shite?” “You’re really diggin’ my shite.” “You’re going home early to pack your shite?”

Or “poo”. That’s annoying. Adults that still say poo. “Guys, uh… can we stop the car. I really have to go for a poo.” “Can I just see your ID here? “You’re over seven, and you want to go for a poo?” A poo!

That’s that new voice that’s creepin’ in, you know that? “Hey, guys.” That sort of voice. I’m… I still live in Glasgow, I moved out of my family home about eight months ago, I live in the West End. And that’s the way… They’ve got that new… (CHEERING) You know that new, homogenised… “Hey, guys, “Uh, what’s your chat?” You know that new… “What… What’s your chat? “Ah, yeah, we were out last night for Callum’s birthday drinks and, uh… “Wasn’t Fraser’s banter totally bangin’, wasn’t it? “Oh, yeah. “Fraser, oh… It was Callum and Gavin are such a double act, aren’t they, though? Oh… “Their banter was on fire. “Top chat. Yeah, really top chat, top banter. “Totally top bants. “All I remember was, Rebecca bought me a Jägerbomb, and then er… “me and Gavin were planking in Burger King. “I woke up this morning, I was actually dyin’. “Top banter, top chat.” That’s the way they fucking… That’s the kind of freaks I live beside these days. Top banter!


I moved out. I’ve never… I got on the property ladder, bought myself a nice wee flat, and I’ve never viewed a property in my fuckin’ life, but I was needing a bit of advice. My dad, he volunteered himself as a property expert. He said, “If you’re going viewing places, son…” “I’m gonna come with.” “Because what’ll happen is, you’ll walk into a nice wee flat,” “you’ll get excited,” “the guy who owns it will see you’re excited,” “then the fucking price goes up.” “Whereas me,” “poker face.” He’s never viewed a property in his life. My dad’s been in the same council house his whole fucking life. You don’t… You don’t go and view a council flat, you just… You don’t get a survey or a home report done, you just get told, “That’s where you’re gonna live now, get fucking in!” But he’s volunteered himself as the property expert. Me and him are rockin’ up there, to view this guy’s gaff. Me and him, like fuckin’ Colin and Justin, walkin’ up… My dad’s goin’ “Poker faces”. We never even got into the guy’s house, and my dad had dissolved, he’s going, “Look, that car’s got a valid tax disc.” “They’ve got a few quid up here. Get a wee photograph of that, son.”

You learn some of life’s… harshest lessons as well, when you live on your own for the first time, some of life’s toughest lessons. Lurpak Spreadable is… un-spreadable. That was the most recent one. That was a tough one to take. I’m stood there, lunchtime, making myself a piece and crisps. I have been nothing short of meticulous in my preparations. I’ve decided how many crisps I’m gonna put on the sandwich, and how many crisps I’m gonna keep in the packet as a wee side dish. I was even whistling, having a nice wee day, got my butter knife, commenced the spread. Within seconds it turned sinister. My wrist nearly fucking snapped. Just check that says “spreadable”. All right, it must be… must be me, then, I better change my technique, I’ll go for rotations, there… Bits of your worktop start to appear through the bread. Just had to abort the mission. Lunchtime just spent in the garden eating half a packet of crisps, feeding the birds. “There you go, lads.” Even the pigeons are going, “What the fuck happened to that, mate?” “Come here and look at this, lads.” “Trying to feed us this shite?” “You put that in a fuckin’ shredder, mate?” How many more innocent bits of bread must be ripped apart “before somebody challenges these bastards?” That should be their new advert, “Lurpak Spreadable, bah, bah, bah!”

Aye, still live up here. 25 years old, I got a… I got an iPhone for my birthday. My mum and dad, they got me an iPhone. A pretty extravagant gift, that’s what they got me. Sounds like a lovely gesture. But you get iPhones for free. All they done was sign me up to a contract. That’s when you realise you’re in the real world. You move out the family home, and you start getting fucking presents like that. “Happy birthday, son!” “We got you a wee £40-a-month direct debit set up, okay? “Wee monthly reminder, how much we love you.” That’s what I got. And it turns you into a fucking moron, these smart phones. I’ve got it, and you sit touching it, caressing it, and… constantly checking it, using it for everything. It’s actually a novelty to be on the phone for a phone call, I’ve… I’ve been on the phone and I’ve drifted off in the conversation, and I’ve suddenly been hit by a wave of panic thinking, “Fuck, where’s my phone?” “I need to go, mate, I’ve lost my pho…” (LAUGHS) “You know what I just done there?” (LAUGHS)

That’s it. I heard a guy answer his phone on a train. He was sat behind me, and it was his mate Francis who was on the phone. I knew that because he answered the phone, by saying, “Francis?” And the guy never spoke again, the whole conversation, he just… He just laughed. And it wasn’t like a nice infectious laugh, it was one of thay laughs where the joke clearly has a victim. You know, it’s just… You don’t know the story, but your sympathies lie with the protagonist. He said, “Francis…” (LAUGHS) (GASPS) (CONTINUES LAUGHING) “All right. All right, mate. All right. Bye-bye. Right. Cheers.”

I still take public transport. I know some of you probably don’t believe that. Sat there goin’, “Fucking no chance. That’s Kev.i.n. up there, fucking no way.” (LAUGHS) I still take the bus. I don’t drive, that’s my problem. I’ve took driving lessons once in my life, but I took them in London. When I was there for three months to fill my days, I thought “I’ll do something productive.” Tried to learn how to drive. A driving lesson in London, it’s just you and a guy parked in a traffic jam. After about 10 minutes, he starts, you know, “OK, mate,” “well, that’s Radio 1, just press that in there.” “Er, that’s your cigarette lighter. Just give that a few seconds, there, buddy.” “I don’t know if you smoke, but that should be good to go.” “Glove compartment. Don’t know if you wear gloves, mate,” “that’s where to keep them.” “If your hands get a bit sweaty… Okay, we’re now gonna reverse back” “15 yards, we’ll drop you home and we’ll see you next Wednesday.” That was as far as I got.

I was on a bus up here about six months ago. And a guy got on, he put his money in. The bus driver said, “How much is that?” And the guy said, “It’s £1.70.” “How?” In Glasgow, “how” means “why”. I don’t know why that is… You don’t say “£1.70, why?” You say “£1.70, how?” You don’t ponder “why”, you demand “how”. He said “£1.70. How?” And the driver said, “Well, it’s £1.85 for a single.” And the guy said, “It was £1.70 yesterday. “Ya fucking dick!” Classic negotiation tactics. Well, the driver held his nerve. And he said, “Well, it’s £1.85 today, you fuckin’ dick!” It was good. On public transport you see a battle of the wits like this. And the guy just lost it, he said, “£1.85?” “I don’t want to buy the fucking bus!” He’s doing that sort of appealing for witnesses. And it goes on, and the guy starts punching the bit of perspex to get to the driver. And over years of taking the bus, I have familiarised myself with the on board safety instructions. When a guy kicks off with the driver, don’t even fucking look. Just turn, look out the window, stare at the chewing gum and go to a happy place. Have a bit of me time. (LAUGHS) “I wonder how many fish fingers I’ve got in the freezer?” “I’m pretty sure I seen there were three. Like…” “I need to stop eating odd numbers of fish fingers.” “That was inevitable there was gonna be three left.” “Now what the fuck am I gonna do with three fish fingers?” “That’s not a lunch or a tea, that’s just no man’s land.” “I’m gonna have to have one of thay Tuesday night dinners” “when you put a gammon steak and then just chuck the three fish fingers on as well.” That’s a mingin’ combo. Wherever you go, in your happy place, you start to find that you get to know yourself. I looked out the window, and there was a stationery shop. I never knew I liked stationery until that minute. “That’s a fuckin’ great deal on rubbers.” “When was the last time I rubbed something out?” “I might go in there, buy back rubbers,” “I’ll need to buy a pencil, sharpen it, a nice new pad.” “A nice sharp pencil, write my name, then just fucking rub it out.”

By the time I had come back in for a landing, this situation had been resolved. A good Samaritan had put the extra money in, just to get the bus moving. And the guy was on. He’d made it. Everybody’s bracing themselves. “Where’s he gonna sit?” It was quite a quiet bus. The guy is on! And it was then I… I realised, I was… I was sat in the seats that are designed for conversation, you know the seats that face in opposite direction for people looking for stimulating debate with like-minded folk on the world’s big issues. Speakers’ Corner, that’s where I was sat. And the guy, he came in, and sat right opposite me. He never recognised me, oblivious to the fact he was sitting opposite Kev.i.n. Never fuckin’… (MUMBLING) And the bus… The bus is pulling away. He’s not going to a happy place, he’s looking at that stationery shop, “I might go in there and buy a pencil,” “sharpen it and stab him in the eye, the fucking wanker.” The bus is going on, and he started talking to me. He said, “Where are you going, mate?” And I said, “I’m just gonna meet my mate at the cinema.” And he said “I’ve not been to the cinema…” “I’ve not been to the cinema in fucking ages.” And I said “Oh, all right.” If you’re struggling for small talk, you need to keep it going. You don’t want the guy thinking you’re being ignorant. I just said, “Oh, all right.” And he said, “Did you ever see that movie Social Network?” That’s what he asked me. And I said, “Oh, the movie about Facebook?” And he said, “Correct!” As if, “You survived that fucking round.” He said, “That Mark Zuckerberg,” “he’s worth billions, mate.” And I said, “Oh, I can imagine.” Then he said, “How?” Then I said, “Well, he’s the owner of Facebook.” And he said, “How does that make money, mate? It’s fucking free!” And you don’t laugh, the on board safety instructions tell you, “Do not…” In order to avoid a punctured lung, keep your face firmly… Keep your face firmly on screensaver mode, just… He said, “If I was in charge of Facebook, mate, I’d be saying fucking quid a go.” It gave me a small sense of hometown pride when I realised the guy was serious. Small sense of hometown pride that there must be very few places in the world where Mark Zuckerberg would be offered financial advice from a guy who was 15 pence short for a single on a fucking bus.

Ladies and gentlemen, you have been a nice crowd. I don’t… I don’t always… Thank you.


I done a show this year in Arbroath, a wee show in Arbroath… I don’t know if any… It made the papers. A guy, he walked in about 10 seconds late and I said, “How is it going, sir?” And he… he looked at me with fucking venom in his eyes. He was just right there. And I… You know the way you can tell when somebody’s kiddin’ on? And somebody’s fucking mental? I said, “I’m just saying, are you all right, mate?” And he said, “No.” He said, “I’m not all right.” He said, “In fact, I’m gonna kick your cunt in!” Even in Scotland… to any English folk here, that’s aggressive. I’m gonna kick your… I was a wee bit taken aback, but another guy in the audience leapt to my defence. And I apologise for the language in advance here. I’m only quoting this guy, and it’s probably the most beautiful sentence I have ever heard. He said “Your arse!” “Ya fanny!” “You’re gonna kick no cunt’s cunt in!”


Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’ve had a laugh, hope you’ve had a… a smile, know, that sort of stuff. Some jokes make you laugh, some make you smile. Thank you. I try to keep it as funny as possible, comedy can be… Comedy can be tough when you’re not funny. The same way that being a priest can be tough when you’ve got Tourette Syndrome. That’s… No, you’ll be going, “In the name of the Father, “and of the… Smell your maw!”


“Just you calm yourself, Father. “Let’s finish this guy’s funeral.”

Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for listening, take care of yourselves. Have a good weekend, see you again sometime.


Everybody get fuckin’ back in! This is when a comedy show becomes a hostage situation. Fucking back! Look at them. Away to catch the fuckin’ Garage, eh? You’d catch that, wouldn’t you? I don’t know where you’d catch.. Away to fucking bang the Tunnel? Yeah. Across the train station. Saturday night. I love watching wee guys arguing with bouncers. I like to… I love that on a Saturday night. I seen a wee guy, he was arguing, he had fire in his belly, it was his God-given right to be on the premises that evening, and the bouncer was saying… “I need to see ID.” And the wee guy said, “I’ve showed you ID before!” And the bouncer said, “When? When did you show me ID?” And the wee guy just lost it, and he said, “When did I didnae?” “When did I didnae?” That’s the kind of sentence that gets you from a knock back into the wee VIP bit. “Right this way, sir. ‘When did I didnae’ guy.”

So, thanks for waiting behind there, thank you, thanks for coming out. All that sort of stuff, usual stuff. Thanks. Much appreciated. It’s been nice talking to you, we’re gonna… We’ve got a special guest here, don’t know if… You’re pretty… Might have a clue who that’s gonna be. A guy, he’s flew in all the way from the United States of America. For the DVD, a special guest. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s his first time in Glasgow. Give it up please, for Chad Hogan!


Good evening, Glasgow. Whoo! How many of y’all having an empty tonight? I want to know. Or more like getting an empty, it should be, right? But, eh… I’ve prepared a little, like rap thing, not really, but… It’s two lines. Now…


I got it… – Do you need a beat? (BEATBOXING) – Yeah, you got me? # In da club, in da club #


# Now have you heard the news there’s a party going round # In Long Island for the weekend Chad Hogan’s parents are out of town # Do you know Chad Hogan? # Everybody knows that man I heard it’s gonna be crazy # I heard he’s hiring a band # Now I say spring, you say break!#


CROWD: Break!


CROWD: Break!

Woo! Spring break! Chad Hogan! What a fucking guy, ladies and gentlemen, take care of yourselves. Thanks for coming out. See you next time. (CROWD CHEERS)


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Sam Morril: You've Changed (2024)

Sam Morril: You’ve Changed (2024) | Transcript

Sam Morril showcases his unique laid-back style, effortlessly riffing on his experiences about the worst person he’s ever dated, the challenges of ageing, and his take on various topics from cable news to the dangers of social media.

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