Free laughs and celeb spotting

I feel like I have discovered a secret place. One where you can spot celebrities you might actually like, have a good laugh and spend nothing. The wonderful world of which I speak is that of the studio audience member. Despite it being one of the easiest ways to be entertained for nothing, very few people seem to know where to get tickets. Allow me to help.

Since moving to London I have seen a variety of TV shows and radio recordings (generally comedy based) and even saw a Radio recording for BBC Scotland at the Edinburgh Festival this year. The most well known things I have been to are shows like Stand up for the Week and 10 o'clock Live, but some of the best have been lesser known radio recordings for BBC 4 and BBC 7.

I went to see a recording of a show called The Verb for BBC 3, which discusses and debates literary topics. Despite knowing nothing about it I was thoroughly entertained and would highly recommend it. Apart from anything else it was just completely different to anything I had been to. It was also in the beautiful radio theatre at Portland Place, just down the road from Oxford Circus.

One of the best recordings I have been to was So Wrong it’s Right for Radio 4, presented by Charlie Brooker, in an odd little studio near Goodge Street. This was amazing because it featured Sarah Millican, Graham Lineham and Shappi Khorsandi. It was bloody hilarious and the venue had a good bar.

The only thing I would say is that you have to get to these venues early. The studios give out a greater number of tickets than the place can hold meaning you are not guaranteed entry. There is also always a bit of hanging around before you are directed in to your seat. However, it is a really good way to see old and new comedians.

My best advice would be to read the descriptions of shows you haven't heard of because you are more likely to get tickets for them and you might just find the next big thing. I have been on the waiting list for QI for over a year. Sigh.

I am however (hopefully) going to try and see Never Mind the Buzzcocks again tomorrow night. I tried to go a few weeks ago but they forgot to tell us that they had already given 100 tickets away to friends of the production team, severely reducing the number of people they could allow in. I was extremely agitate by this and very ready to shout at people down the phone to get more tickets. None of this was needed however becasue when I explained what had happened, they instantly offered me more tickets for another date. Damn their good manners.

Here are a few of the sites I use and have the best shows (in my opinion)

Applause Store- for a whole host of random shows from Buzzcocks to X Factor to Celebrity Juice.

BBC Audience- This has most of the BBC shows especially radio recordings.

SRO Audiences- This has a lot of chat shows like the Graham Norton show as well as 10 o'clock Live and Countdown.

These are all reliable but there are loads out there such as TVRecordings.com, Lost in TV and Clappers (although on the website it only appears to have tickets for Loose Women but that's your call).

Hope to see you at a recording soon! Although, if I run onto the stage tomorrow night to try and hug Noel Fielding would I be banned? Totally worth it though.

Cinema in a bookshop

Here is something for the weekend when it's grey outside and perhaps if you are a little hungover. Nomad Cinema is back springing up in unlikely places to surprise and entertain. The wandering cinema spent the summer popping up in

parks across London and showcasing some fantastic films from screening Fight Club in an old boxing ring to The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou at Brockwell Lido.

Since it is now winter, and fecking freezing, Nomad has decided to rest its hump (their logo is a camel) in a closed Book Etc store in Whiteley's shopping centre near Queensway. A little weird perhaps but I think this deserves a mention because this weekend alone they are showing Dawn of the Dead, Tangled, E.T. and Ferris Beullers Day Off on Sunday. Something for everyone non?

On its website it says that tickets range from £4-8 which may not seem like a deal but if you spend over £10 on food at one of the restaurants in the centre you get one cinmea ticket for free. To tempt your tastebuds there are all the usual suspects like Ask and Cafe Rouge, a Latin restaurant called Chillis and a slightly suspect one that calls itself "Chi Wok, Pasta Rossa, and Cafe Licious" which "is a unique offering of three separate restaurants housed in one". Is it just me or does anyone else not understand why that would be appealing? They also have a Yo Suhi! and a gelato place (which actually also sells ice cream for the cinema) so, you can eat well and then go and drink Vodka in Book Etc. Oh sorry did I forget to mention there is a pop-up Vodka bar, from which you can get drinks as well as your popcorn. The ultimate combination.

Here is the link for more information and all those pesky things like times and dates.

Would it be wrong to go and watch Disney's Tangled and drink Vodka or would that just make it an amazing weekend?

If anyone does head over there let me know what you watched and how you found it.

Thanks and happy Friday.

Some christmas spirit

For my first little gift I saw this voucher for 20% off at Selfridges this weekend and got quite excited. Ok quite a girly reaction, but I get paid this weekend and expect others may too. I plan to have no money by Monday and thought this would be a good place to start.

You need to print off the voucher and then simply present it at the counter when paying. The 20% applies to clothing and get 10% off beauty and wine.

The Selfridges website is being rather uncooperative and not letting me on it (I should get a bonus or at least something for helping promote it) so here is a link to their twitter page instead where you can print the voucher

On Saturday I think all hell may break loose on Oxford Street as the Christmas shoppers come out in force so maybe avoid that day. If however you are just that crazy, then good luck and God speed.

I tried to explain what I am going to do with this blog to a friend and in case you are still none the wiser, I am going to try be a friendly faced version of Groupon without offering you teeth whitening or a Brazilian Blowdry every day. If someone can explain to me what the latter is I might even me tempted to get one. At the moment it reminds of drying my hair and Brazilian waxes and I'm not sure I want to marry the two.

A new beginning

Well hello and hi and how are you?

So as you will have noticed (because I know you check this site regularly for updates of my misfortune) that my last post came in September 2010 shortly before I left my little village, and headed for the big city. The future looked very bright and I thought that just perhaps my life would no longer be a series of laughable events. Not so lucky. First and foremostly I lost my job, or rather I was told to leave (not, I would like to add, in the escorting from the building kind of way that I half feared) because I cannot write about telecoms. Protest as my family might, ultimately my bosses were right; after 10 months of reading, writing and researching the subject I still know fuck all about telecoms. Oh of course that was all after I threw cake at a senior staff member and punched my boss in the stomach. Neither of which was brought up in my evaluation.

Now, on a happier note, I have a new job which is alright but not very exciting (I have however already made a joke about dogging to a colleague- too soon?) which is where blogging comes in. I am going to join the mass of bloggers in the world to try and get heard I realise this may be pointless but meh. That's right: meh.

But I digress, as I am prone to do. I am now starting a new blog no longer about travelling but about living in London. WAIT! Before you click away this is not going to be a diary of my life (too boring) but I realised that if I have two strengths it is writing about my personal misfortunes and finding free/cheap things to do in London. Partly due to the boring job and partly because I am cheap. So what I propose dear reader is that I will endeavour to find cheap things for all of us living in the capital and maybe ad lib a little about my experiences in doing them.

I also want suggestions from anyone who has found something that I might be able to try or if they would like to write a guest post on this blog (I realise this may not seem like a very glamourous offer but I am trying to make a community of sorts).

Now are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...

Back and still disastrous

As you all know I am now back in the country and have been for some time. I think it's safe to say that my life is now very uninteresting and consists mainly of me trying to apply for jobs between pulling pints for lecherous old men. However, it would be wrong to think that my life is no less amusing (from the outside- for me it is still disastrous) and so I thought that as we are constantly threatened by terrorism, economic collapse, environmental meltdown and a rather oddly shaped government why not bring a little smile (if I can) to you and see that life really isn't so bad. It could be worse. You could be me.

Apart from the obvious things that I have done in the last few weeks like severely scalding my leg with mint tea or poisoning myself with tesco-own vodka I thought I would relay my recent little trip to London town.

My visit was based around two plays which I had been invited to see with a theatre company I interned for and having a "chat" with an arts PR company about more interning. Between these outings I was going to get a cheap haircut with Toni and Guy trainees maybe do a spot of shopping and generally enjoying the capital. Exciting, relaxing and productive what could go wrong?

Let me start by saying that I was going to drive to the Thornhill Park and Ride. I haven't driven by myself until very recently and I imagine most people's mouth's have just made that "ee" shape like when you're watching a home video show and someone falls backwards over a deckchair. I thought I would drive to Thornhill get the coach and be in London fro 1.45pm for a haircut. My dearest mother gave me directions for Headington so that I wouldn't have to go on any scary dual carriageways this did involve driving through some countryside that I swear I have never seen before. I almost gave up but sure enough the signs for Headington appeared and I found the Park and Ride. The only problem with this was that there wasn't a parking space. Not one. I decided I would do the adult thing and call my mother. No reply. Shit. Right I was going to be an adult God damn it I would go to the other Park and Ride in Watereaton. I would go through Headington to Summertown. Right. How do you do that again? After making up a route, I found myself in Headington which was chock-a-block with road works, new students at Brookes (bloody students) and people leaping out in front of me. Did they not know that I had relatively little control over my vehicle and would/could probably kill them? (It turns out probably not since at some point during this debacle my P plates had either been stolen or fallen off). I stalled at several traffic lights, stopped suddenly at another set of traffic lights almost causing a collision with the driver behind; I got to Summertown, same situation- reckless pedestrians, roadworks and even worse school children. Parked down South Parade, almost cry, stop, have to try and parallel park because damn road is too narrow just to stop in, try to call mother again, no reply; carried on to Watereaton after again stalling/pausing too long at roundabouts; at Watereaton; found parking space; ran to bus; looked at watch-now 1pm. I call Toni and Guy and convinced them to hold my place for me after begging and looking like a crazed/flushed person running down George street.

After that the day gets a little better, have lovely haircut from nice young man, which turned out to be free. Feeling a lot better I step onto Oxford street and now I have to get to Dalston to see the play. I have bus number but really no clue about which end of London Dalston is. I get on a bus and vaguely remember the map I saw from the station to the theatre and think "Oh someone will be able to direct me". I ask the first passerby when arriving in Dalston and he directs me up the road and to turn at Tescos. Cool. Get to tescos and ask the security guard, he directs me down dark side road. Hmmm. Not convinced but having faith I amble down for about twenty minutes ask another person who tells me to keep going. I then get to a big junction and ask a few people where the theatre is none of them know and someone says "Isn't that in Dalston?" I am a little confused until I see a sign saying the "Hackney Downs". I am now very lost and very late. In a fit of panic I call my dearest older sister to Google map me and the theatre and find my way for me. It's times like these I think the Iphone would be a good investment. She chastises me for not organising myself but finds my way and I arrive as the bell goes for everyone to go in. Yes! Success. On the way back the overground trains are all delayed so I have to get a series of buses home that take an hour and a half. I no longer care but I think Jen does though when I have to wake her up at 12.30 so she can open the door for me.

So London Day 2 has got to be easier. I over-plan both my journey to the theatre and the PR company. After I meet with the PR people (which I hope went well) I head to covent garden for some shopping since I have four hours til the play. My phone is now running out of battery so I do the proactive thing and find somewhere that will charge it for me. Now who knew that in vodaphone there are little lockers in which you can charge your phone by putting money in a meter and take a key away with you and retrieve the phone when it is charged? An excellent idea I think you'd agree. I am browsing along Long Acre and decide that I will just go and get my phone now so I'm not rushing later- I amble up to the shop and it's closed. Ah. My mother and sister keep asking me what time this was- I don't actually know because I use the clock on my phone. The irony is not lost on me.

So now I can't think what to do; I need my phone but that would mean staying another night to get it back in the morning but I'm supposed to be working at 10am. Tricky. I decide to get to the theatre earlier than planned and use a phone there. The theatre is easy to find thank god. I very politely explain to the box office man what I've done and now need to phone my mum to get my sister's number to ask if I can stay an additional night. I also have to google my work's number and call them to explain I will be a little late for work the following day due to this error. I have to keep repeating what I've done down the phone to the great amusement of the staff. My mum at this point is driving to Glasgow and has to call me back from a motorway stop with my sister's number. What the box office staff failed to tell me was that the phone I was using didn't ring, it only flashed. After trying to call one another many times, calling a wrong number and mistaking someone who was calling for Ellen (a theatre employee) for my Mother (Helen) ("Yes, yes my mum's called Helen I think the call's for me. What? Ellen? Who's Ellen?") my sister managed to get through to me. She agreed to let me stay another night as I downed a glass of wine after realising I wouldn't be driving.

The following day I retrieved my phone and when turning it on get a variety of messages from friends and family including an anxious one from my dad asking if I was in a cell.

*I should breifly explain that before, when I was arrested at the protest, I text my sister from the police van to tell her what had happened but to tell the parents that I had lost my phone therefore, not to panic if they couldn't get hold of me. Ever since then losing a phone is apparently synonymous with prison time to my parents.*

I get to Paddington board my delayed train and worry how late I am now going to be for work. Coincidentally at that instant I get a phone call from my the pub telling me that I wasn't down to work today and that I'm not working til 6. At this point I began to laugh hysterically.

It was only when I got back to Oxford that I began to worry about the car. I thought I could leave it there for free for 72 hours but Jen was convinced that after a day you needed to pay. If it had been towed or I had a fine (which I wouldn't be able to pay) my Father would kill me. Oh really just kill me. As I slowly approached where I'd left my little Ford Focus, I spotted that dented boot (my grandma's work not mine) and there it was in all it's blue glory, Brian, my car. I threw my hands in the air in a Rocky type gesture and drove home. Luck was finally on my side and I only stalled twice.

Week 13: Motos

How apt it would seem that my final post would be on it's 13th week. It's only unlucky for some though...

We are now in, the slightly cooler than anticipated, Australia for the next few weeks. However I am saving these anecdotes for our return. So, for my final blog will be on our final week in Vietnam and something that typifies its capital.

Although I think the previous blog's moto driver will stick in my (and my mother's) memory for quite some time we were not done with Motos.

We had quite a few memorable rides on the back of bikes around Hanoi due to the risk-taking abilities of the drivers but it got me thinking; what would happen if we tried to drive them ourselves? (There is my tribute to the new and the terrible Sex and the City 2 film).

In our final week in Asia we decided to visit the renowned Halong Bay and Cat Ba Island. Halong Bay is famous for its gorgeous limestone formations that jut out of the bay's waters.

We arrived on the Island and it did not disappoint. The main reason for this is that most of the island is a protected National Park meaning that only the sea front has been allowed to develop. The area was slightly too big to see on foot and so we were debating how else we could see the island in its entirety. It was then that we saw many street vendors offering moto rental for $3 a day. The roads were fairly quiet and we thought how hard can it be?

The owner of the bikes asked for our driving licenses. I could offer my one for a car but Lizzie can't drive. The man merely shrugged and explained that we may just have to pay off the police if they stopped us. Well thank goodness for that.

We were both a little nervous and decided that we would test our driving abilities in the car park first. It turns out that those things really zip along when you first start them up. After a few failed attempts we got the hang of it and ventured onto the roads at a snail's pace compared to the other drivers. We were not going to be hurried along however. Slow and steady wins the race and all that.

As we first went to get petrol with the bike owner still on the back of Lizzie's bike we managed to pick up a young German student who was also looking for the National Park entrance. He stayed with us for the rest of the day despite riding a proper motor bike and seeming to become exasperated with our slowness. We did encourage him to go off alone but he simply smiled and sighed. He didn't seem to remember that he joined us through choice.

After about twenty minutes of driving I noticed Lizzie was no longer behind me. I turned round and went back to find Lizzie looking quizzically at her bike. It wouldn't start. We were now too far to push the bike back and on a pretty dangerous corner of road. We pulled the bike over and kept prodding and poking it until two young Vietnamese boys stopped and offered to help. We were really grateful until we realised that they wanted money for fixing it. They didn't speak English and without our phrasebook we were useless. We wanted to know if they fixed it wold it last for the rest of the day? This was futile. After a few more minutes another man stopped on his bike who spoke very good English and translated for us. We haggled the boy down in price at which point he seemed to start the bike as normal and it worked. Grrrr.

After this minor hiccup we could enjoy our surroundings and relax. Except of course when my bike kept backfiring and spitting out oil. Nevertheless, we were having a good time. We reached the northernmost point of the island and turned around to go to the West. It was at this point that I realised my bike was running out of petrol. The backfiring was happening because my bike was leaking. All the shops we passed sold oil in old water bottles so we bought one of these and shared it out.

My bike began running out of oil again fairly quickly and so we stopped for food and to figure out what to do. As we were chatting I said to Lizzie that she'd obviously become more confident on the bike as I worked out she must be going about 50-60mph when she said she wouldn't go over 30.

"What?" Lizzie said sounding surprised.
"You were just going quite fast that's all",
"I didn't think I was going fast", she paused, "But then again my speed gauge is broken", another pause "And I only have one mirror". We had not hired the best bikes.

I told her how fast I thought she'd been going and she thought she couldn't have been doing more than 40.

We returned to our bikes and since my bike was nearly out of oil again I drove very slowly back to the vendor trying not to burn the petrol too quickly. We arrived back feeling invigorated and full of life, if not a little shaky. Neither of us crashed but I very nearly went straight into a bollard. All in all we counted it a success.

A few days later we flew from Hanoi to Bangkok (where the only odd thing we encountered was a guard on a segway) and then to Sydney.

I don't think this is the most exciting of my blogs but I think it shows the progression of our travels. If we had tried this in China we would have died. Now, we are practised travellers with the life experience under our belts. Or we were just the luckiest eedjits in south east Asia at that point.

I think I have managed to answer my own question though; What can possibly go wrong? Well, quite a lot really but nothing that can't be fixed with a smile and a Lonely Planet to hand.

Week 12:Culture Clashes

I have so much ground to cover figuratively having not kept up with the blog when we have covered so much ground physically. I last wrote about my encounters in Dalat that lead us to the seaside town of Nha Trang. I have failed to write since then about Nha Trang, Hoi An, Hue and Hanoi.

As you will have already noticed most of my blogs have been about the clashing of our culture with the far east. However, it seems that these last few places are best talked about in relation to specific moments where something was definitely lost in translation.

To start where I left off then with Nha Trang. This large beach town reminded me of an under-developed version of Miami with the tall hotels and apartment buildings lining the coast. If you turned your back on all of this the view out accross the water was still beautiful.

We spent our time on the beach and enjoying the "buzzing" nightlife. It was not a place to immerse yourself in culture. Our most memorable experience came from (as ever) a day trip on a boat which included seeing a few of the surrounding islands. This was all lovely except when, after lunch, the guide said that a famous Vietnamese boyband were going to play for us all. We of course thought he was joking. In a matter of minutes the table we had eaten lunch on was turned into a stage and a few of the crew were tuning guitars and had set up a drum kit. They proceeded to play a few Vietnamese songs but most of the time was spent with the guide/lead singer thrusting at all the girls on board. Of course I was sat right in the middle didn't quite know where to look. Before anyone asks-no he was not cute. He was 40 if a day and kept saying things like "Up the bum no baby". Culture clash number one.

The second occurred in Hoi An that is famed for its tailoring. Unfortunately, we seemed to pick the most reluctant tailors in the town.I got a dress and Lizzie had a dress and playsuit made. After the initial measurements we came back for a fitting and all garments had to be adjusted. That was fine but when we returned and my dress was now a little too big and Lizzies' were still not right they seemed to become...well...arsey. When we came back a third time they quite obviously wanted to see the back of us and all pretence of friendliness had vanished. My dress was slightly baggy and Lizzie's playsuit was slightly too small. It seemed that my width and Lizzie's height was alien to them. Culture clash number two.

Hue was fairly uneventful and really quite pretty. We spent our time enjoying the old citadel and the surrounding countryside. Our only problem ocurred when we thought we had agreed a fixed price with a cyclo driver and we had not. It wasn't pretty.

We were very excited to get to Hanoi becasue we knew a few people who had told us it was their favourite city while travelling and we were keen to see what all the fuss was about.

A majority of our time was spent wandering around the the old quarter where we were staying. We could get lost for hours in the narrow winding streets that were crowded with restaurants, bars and shops.

I felt that I should try and experience some culture before we left the city so I went to see the Museum of Ethnology. Oh what a mistake. I seemed to attract the moto drivers from hell.

The one who took me there (after some rather heated haggling) was chatting away quite politely about where I was from and where I was staying, all joking and light. He then asked if my dorm was mixed or just girls. "Just girls", I said happily. Although this hadn't been our choice I was pleased not to be seen as another easy Westerner.
"I think you have more fun in mixed dorm", he said.
I just laughed thinking he was being funny. He was quiet for a minute and then said, "After you have been to Museum you spend an hour with me". This should have been my first warning but I thought he wanted me to spend more money getting him to show me the city.
"No thank you. I have to get back to meet my friend".
"Oh come on you come back and have fun with me". This same dialogue continued for a bit until I realised that he didn't want to show me the odd Pagoda or War monument. I continued to be polite.
"No thank you".
"Oh come on you come for half an hour".
"No".
The fact the amount of suggestively allotted time had decreased hardly made me keener.
"Don't you want to see my big banana?" shockingly he actually said that. I wondered how successful I would be at rolling off the bike at the next corner. I was wearing a maxi dress and this made the manoeuver far more complicated. I thought I might just be able to beat him into a stupor with my Lonely Planet if he didn't back off. I kept saying "No" for another few minutes.
"Why not? I like women you like men"he said.
Ah, get out clause here.
"Actually I like women", I ventured.
"Bullshit".
I don't think they really believe in lesbians here.

We still weren't at the museum and I was beginnning to wonder if he was taking me back to his house to have his wicked half an hour with me.
"You come with me and you will be happy".
I tried to explain that it wouldn'tmake me happy.
"I tried Vietnamese women but never Western woman".
"I'm flattered you want to "try" me but still no".

Thankfully we were approaching the museum. I warned him that it would be very unpleasent should he still be there when I came out.

On the way back the driver barley talked to me which was a relief. It was only when he tried to dupe me out of 100 dong by pretending he hadn't just put the note I'd given him in his back pocket, that I almost throttled him.

I got back to the room and flopped down on the bed vowing never to leave the room again.