About the Awful

I have been asked by Net Curtains to provide a short autobiography. The other writers' biographies are all extremely impressive. They have won prizes and been awarded grants. Ewan McGregor is going to be in their films.

Not keen on blowing my own trumpet (all those years stuck on third cornet playing off-beats) , I googled the name I was known by in the olden days when I was prolific.
Is my four star Stage review there? My glowing Scotsman piece? Oh no. The only review of me there is on the internet is one which gets the names of my characters wrong and includes the immortal line:

...to be honest, Alison Yates, unlike her co-performer Claire Mace, is clearly more writer than actress and she does mistime many of her gags.

Bunch of skanks. I give up. How's this for a biography?

Alison Morgan was born. Then she wrote some stuff. If you don't commission her she will shoot herself and take Simon Callow with her. Enjoy the show!

On and Off and On again...(see, you know things are going well when you quote Status Quo instead of Oscar Wilde)

My latest play, "All Mod Cons" was commissioned by Net Curtains Theatre Company
back In January as part of its planned project on the 1953 floods. I wrote three drafts, then went to London for a workshop in April. This was AMAZING. I saw a real director and real actors at work, and the play seemed to be flying. The workshop lasted four hours. Oh yeah, and Terry Johnson sat in too. It was the first time I'd had my work 'done' by professionals since univ, when Debra Gillet and Henry Goodman read a script of mine. (I don't know what they were paid, but it wasn't enough) Anyway, a week later, I heard from Net Curtains that they'd decided not to produce my play. They said that they felt it was potentially a full length play and they didn't want to curb my artistic vision or something. Hmm. Anyone for a two hour play about a natural disaster from an unknown writer? Royal Court? West Yorkshire Playhouse? Thought not.
Anyhoo, got a message last week on my work phone (how the HELL did they get the number?) saying one of the playwrights on their triple bill has flounced and taken his lovely play with him. And would I come back on board.
Of course I said fuck off, the National wants to stage it at the Olivier and Spielberg's in a bidding war with Tarantino for the big screen options............. ;)
I've just sent Net the 4th Draft.

Malfunctioning Kids: A Moan.

Pooky is not sleeping at the moment. Every time we put him in his bed, despite him being so tired he is falling over, he comes out of his room and runs around like some banshee boy, screwing up his eyes and holding his breath until a noise roughly describable as "ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" emanates forth from his Pooky little mouth. Then he wakes several times in the night, exclaims "ROOOOOOOOOO" some more and gets into our bed, whereupon he grinds his teeth for hours.
Matters are not helped by tiny Pug, who last night, during the customary battle to get her hair dried, grabbed the hairdryer and bonked herself in the face with it, causing a hideous spider's web- like scar to manifest itself across her cheek. Add to that the recently dried out chicken pox scabs, and Puggle looks like nothing you'd expect to see outside the NSPCC's latest ad campaign.
I know it's really scraping the bottom of the barrel, but I need to add to my series of blessings counted.

643: Pooky is not scarred.
644: Puggle sleeps sometimes.
645: Headache tablets are cheap.

By Unpopular Request........

Here are some more of Pooky's jokes. Imagine our joy as he regaled us with them non-stop for an hour on the way back from Nostrell Priory this afternoon, after five hours' of chasing him around the gardens/stopping him turning into roadkill/ listening to him burbling on about his horse called Bobalok etc.!

• What do you call a deer with no legs?
• A sandwich!

• What happened to the giant?
• He fell over and got splattered into dogpoo!

• What do you call nothing?
• A lamppost!

• I've just seen something dreadful.
  

Actually that wasn't a joke, it was a dead fox........

FreeeeeeEEEEEEEE!!!

Oh my random deities, I have just marked the LAST one of the 630 SATS papers that have infested my life for the past month. No more effin' sports centres and 'Jaime Olver' crap to plough through. This weekend I will actually see my kids!! Altogether now,
NO MORE SATS
NO MORE SATS
NO MORE SATS
NO MORE SATS
NO MORE SATS
NO MORE SATS
NO MORE....oh to hell with it, where's that winebox!

Another one bites the dust…….

John the driving instructor almost had a coronary tonight as I stopped at a roundabout in front of a lorry 52x bigger than his car. Apparently it would be looking ahead, seeing the road was clear and expecting to go. Frankly, if you’re driving behind a car with a big red ‘L’ on top, you should be expecting anything. Apparently my gear changes are rough, my braking is too hard, I am too slow/fast (delete as mood strikes you) and above all, I need to go out in the car with my spouseling and get some practice. Gee, really? Hey just imagine, if we had someone to sit with the kids while I did that, who knows, maybe I’d be saving £439 a month on nursery fees!

Anyway, York’s road users can breathe again, as I HAVE BLOODY GIVEN UP. After a hard day’s graft, the last thing I need is to miss putting my kids to bed just to be panicked and shouted at by a bloke who is a living illustration of what happens to your BMI if you sit in a car all day long. Sorry John, but you’ve made me so desperately in love with my bike that I fear for my marriage.

A YEAR AND A HALF OF LESSONS!

Geez, with the cash I’ve wasted on driving lessons, I could have taken the kids to Disneyland. And that’s just one week of BSM. John was cheap, but he still charged £18 an hour, which is more than I got for teaching GCSE. Can you imagine if I’d started shouting at the kids, “NOOOOOOOOOO!!! That’s dangerous, you can’t put that apostrophe there, you keep doing the same thing in every essay!!!!!!”

WHAT WILL I SPEND THE MONEY ON!!!

I’m almost giddy at the thought. A cycle trailer, one of those funky half-bikes for brats that attach to your bike, loads and loads of waterproof clothing…….oh, and 3 litres of Chardonnay a week.

COS I’M NOT DRIVING – BWAHAHA!!!

Counting my blessings (extract)

403: I do not live in Baghdad.
404: My name is not Chelcei.
405: My washing machine works.
406: My spouse went shopping and bought, amongst other items, pesto, bread and loads of beans.
407: I am not John Prescott.
408: Four more days of marking and I will be free, FrEe, FREEEEEEEEE!
409: Wine.

This year's SATS

I seem to have posted these in a higgledy piggledy order. Oh well. I guess that's why all of my jobs include the words 'officer' or 'co-ordinator' as opposed to 'MD'. Here are the combined efforts of about 600 year 9 kids who bothered to respond to the Longer Writing task. They had to write a letter of protest about the local council shutting down their sports centre and telling them all to go and use one 20km away. York schoolchildren will have done well on this one.........

Longer Writing Task

Dear Locals,

My name is Colleen and I live local. You are proberly wondering why I am writing to you. This is because we think of you as highclass citizen. I know I have not been the nices person in this town but I really need your help.

I don’t think the government should close down the sports center because we go their to reduce the risk of passing away x dieing.

I mean that people who are obese, have to go their because they will die.

Firstly I conclude that taking it away will lower the moral of the local people.

Before the centre opened there was a lot of muggins in this area. It was well exciting.

Secondly children all ready have enough stress from school and need somewhere to relieve themselves. This sports centre keep your little angelic children from roaming the streets and becoming the thing you dread. This is how they get into drugs to them its we cant go to the gym anymore so we shall go cause trouble smok some weed sniff some coke.

Where will our children go and play when they have had a destressing week of Sats or when for 3 years had crap maths teachers that fall asleep at the front of the class.

Thirdy, many people use our leisure centre for reasons.

Everyone is welcome from 0-1000 year olds.

There is lots of aldult activities from Thi-chi to archeracy.

I, myself, does enjoy the odd tap dance. At our sports center the staff are first class friendly, and only interested in pleasuring you, the rates are cheap.

On the other hand, the swimming pool is dirty, the tiles are falling off, the diving boards aren’t safe and all the machines in the gym are broken. I suppose the only good thing is the coffee shop.

When they close it down people will start dieing, which means less people will go to the other sports center 20km away. 20km is well far away from here. Getting to the other sports centre will not or will be a problem.

“I want to keep the sports hall because I meet my friends at the coffee shop” said a wipping widow.

We spoke to miss roberts Jack roberts mum she says ‘ I would be magntified if the centre closed down.’

One kid called John said “I didn’t have no friends untill I stared football then I met loads of friends if it get nocked Down I wont have no friends no more”

People will become obsie x obesse x on x overweight.

Figures show 47% of people who visit the centre are obese. It is indispicable.

If we all help we will win this evil government that wants to obliteate our fitness centre. I have got 4 people to take part in my campaign so far.

We will all scream and persuade and object so much that these horrible human beings that has done this awful deed to us cannot stand the pitch and frequency of our justice fighting voices.

Therefore, in conclusion to my letter of plead, surely you of all people should agree with me if not for me if not for yourself but for England one of the countrys in the world. Good by and God bless England.

On the other hand I personally agree that most people in this area don’t really use the sport centre so this letter doesn’t really concern you.

My sinsirly,

Maria. (local)

P.S. don’t remember to sign the pertition.

The SATS you've all been waiting for....

Yup, here it is, the annual compilation of crap, bizarrerie and sheer warped genius that spews forth from the frazzled brains of Year 9s. This year's short writing task was to write a report for the school website about a famous person opening your school's new food technology room. And then the pizzas got burnt. HA HA HA. Enjoy.........

Food Teck Fun.

This is the title becarse this is what it is about.

Dear Parents and Careers,

Last week, on the 3th of March, We had a rather famous face around our parts. We had Jimy Oliy the nude Chief come to open our brand new food technollyy room for our pupils to exspire us with there cooking skills. He cut the red rope what was stuck on from side to side.

In the Cookcurry lesson the children had to demonsterated there cooking our visitor. A sence of Joy was lerking around the room. It looked as clean and perfect as sand. The room has 20 state-of-the-Arc cookers and Bran new spanking ovens. It has over 50,000 pounds of electrical equipment in it. You could buy one hundred thousand cans of coca cola with that.

Jaime Olivier teached, tasted and tampered with all the pizzas and students.

He tasted our year 9 pupils and was very impressed.

He made us some very speical food called pablow rossianty in it there was rice curry and a pancake on top.

For him to watch us cook was very good, but nerve-nacking.

I was also delighted by the fact that the pupils who came to visit had the remorse to respect. I think they all said that they wanted to become cookers and if they all didn’t say it most of the pupils did.

Everything was going orite but how wrong were I.

Amy was there naughty Amy who burnt he pizzas and set her stove on fire.

From the smell of burnt pizza everyone lifted there noses I didnt of course as I have a very keen smell.

The angry flames were spreading like headlice. I thought we were going to burn the school down, not that that’s a bad thing or anything.

Back to the visitor I asked him if he was italian he said “no”

I felt as if I had been a mole hiding in the soil so the crows don’t get me.

Chatting to me as if we were on speaking terms, the head teacher says “we try to teach pupils about life in the outside world can be really hard and in fact quite mean and harsh. My school is Cathorlic so we respect everyone and everything with regrastes that we so together and orangiesd”

At the end of the visit he gave me twenty pound so it was good all round.

For more information visit the school website site Good by and God bless England. HA HA HA