Get On, Clip In, Fall Off

Wee Brown Dogs

I finally gave in last night and picked up the seminal (or so I understand) comedy album Billy and Albert, a recording of a gig that Billy Connolly played at the Albert Hall in the mid-1980s. The fact that it was only a click away on the iTMS made it even better for instant-gratification merchants like myself. It's faintly rude but fantastic stuff, and I highly recommend it to anyone who's not scared off by extremely regular use of the word which causes iTunes and Amazon to flag it as "Explicit".

Unfortunately, it's had a strange effect on my brain for the past day as my habit of picking up accents at the drop of a hat has kicked in, and there's a little voice in my head repeating everything I say in a Glaswegian accent. Sometimes it tries to bully my brain into saying things like "Wee brown dugs!" instead of "Hello", but so far I've managed to resist.

Regardless of its repeated and continual messing with the speech centres of my brain, it's a splendid album and a wee piece (see?) of comedy history, and I commend it to everyone. The sign of comedy genius here is that the Big Yin can actually discuss extremely, uh, adult topics without falling into the trap of sounding as if he's being rude just for the hell of it, unlike a lot of comics I could name. It also still sounds fresh after 20 years despite the few political references now being outdated. In short, a most enjoyable and recommendable 45 minutes.

(Incidentally, at one point he ponders why you never see anyone with big lumps in their neck anymore and whether there's a secret operation now to remove them. I find this particularly amusing for reasons which will be obvious to people who know me.)