Skip to main content

The Secret Diary of a 3 Year Old

MONDAY
Put a blanket on my head and ran into the wall. Screamed with the sheer bloody unfairness of it all. Standard start to the week.
TUESDAY
Saw two dogs doing something rather unsavoury to each other outside our house so asked what they were doing and Daddy said they were cuddling but when I pressed him for more details he just blushed and mumbled ‘ask your mother’ as he left the room.
WEDNESDAY
HATED my swimming lesson. Was crying and flapping my arms at Mummy and Daddy as they watched from the side. They smiled and waved back. Cheers for the support, pricks.
Click for tickets
THURSDAY
I don’t respond well to deadlines. I’m a poet, man. I’m an artist. Don’t restrict me with your grown up fascist bullshit.
FRIDAY
I don’t care what I’m doing, when that beat drops on ‘Five Little Monkeys’ I’m losing my shit. I hope that tune never hits when I’m a brain surgeon because I’d just fuck the scalpel off mid-slice and start busting some moves.
SATURDAY
Went swimming again but this time I was screaming because there was a fucking shark in the water and NOBODY WAS DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT! (Got embarrassed when I realised it was an inflatable swimming aide.)
SUNDAY
Apparently manners are important to Big People. But not to me. So they can go fuck themselves.
🤓🎤 COME SEE ME LIVE! I'm doing a 28 date UK stand up tour starting in October, for full listings and tickets CLICK HERE. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Time I Screamed at my Kids

Before my kids arrived I swore I’d never shout at them. But choosing how to approach parenthood before your kids are born is like a caterpillar deciding what kind of butterfly they’re gonna be while they’re still building the cocoon. ‘I’ll still do loads of charity work, of course. And I’ll be REALLY nice to moths too, even though they’ll probably hate me because I’ll be so bloody gorgeous.’ Theory and reality are like sugar and shit. I’ve raised my voice to my kids more times than I can count. Often just to shout ‘STOP SHOUTING!’ which I’m aware doesn’t set a great example. ‘You should NEVER shout at your kids.’ And that’s fine. In theory. Because everything’s fine in theory. The Slimfast diet is a piece of piss until day two when you’ve had three hours sleep and someone offers you a Wagon Wheel. Of course, I never WANT to shout at them. I love them more than words can describe. But those you love are also the ones blessed with the innate ability to boil your piss q
Post a Comment
Read more

We Have a Winner!

Ladies and gentlemen - some news! One recipient of my newsletter is now the 'lucky' (ahem) winner of an exclusive gig from me IN THEIR HOUSE! And that person is... Lyn Morter!  Well done, Lyn! (Btw, if anyone from  Ofcom  is reading, you can check the legitimacy of this result via the  Facebook Live video  I did last week.) When I informed Lyn that she'd won she simply said, 'I've never heard of you' and 'How did you get my phone number?' so I'm sure that will be a great gig for everyone. (Only joking. She was thrilled.) Thanks to all of you for entering. But what now, Sam?  I hear you screaming at your smartphones. Well, I'll be taking things a wee bit easier through August, spending some much needed time with my family after all the touring. But just like that former Governor of California of Austrian descent, I'LL BE BACK (sorry) in September with more blogs, videos and general waffle.  I'm also heading b
Post a Comment
Read more

The Time I Smeared Shit on the Duvet

My wife and I developed our parenting systems through trial and error. One of the earliest rules we’d introduced was that if it was after 5am and one of the babies became unsettled, we wouldn’t waste our time trying to get them back down in their cot - we’d just bring them in with us. After a nice cuddle in our bed, they’d normally settle back down, barring the occasional impromptu fanny gouge or affable bollock kick. (Babies are the most violent sleepers on the planet, easily capable of committing GBH in the middle of reaching for their dummy.) Our twins were six months old. I was fast asleep. At least, the deepest sleep you can get once your kids arrive. My pre-kids sleep used to be the nocturnal equivalent of deep sea diving. Nowadays I’m lucky if I can submerge my toes in a puddle. Early on, my sleep was lighter than a Ryvita biscuit who’d been having it off with a helium canister they’d met on Tinder. Everything woke me up. Some nights I’d just lie there, bewi
Post a Comment
Read more