It was one that I had bought last year when I did the ComedySportz stand up course. And I'd carried it around in my bag for a year until I finally read it.

And this week, when I haven't been working, or attending improv in far flung places across the country, I've been knee deep in joke webs and other exercises hoping to write a slew of jokes.

The main reason I'm doing this is to try and actually get something accepted by Newsjack this year.

I can only do my best.

Let's See What Happens.

This past Saturday was a blinder. I went to ComedySportz improv workshop and had an awesome time. It was a lot of fun. Props to Sam for a great workshop. This followed by 2-4-1 pizza in the bar next door. Pizza is always a good idea, especially when it costs £2.73 per person.

After the pizza I headed over to the Lass O'Gowrie pub with two of my favourite ladies, Ash and Stef, for 2 brilliant comedy shows.

The first show was Danny Pensive's Map of Britain. An excellent show by John Cooper. It was the first time I'd been able to catch Danny Pensive live. It was great and well worth the £3 ticket price.

The second show was Let's See What Happens, an Armando improv show featuring the ComedySportz crew of Bron, Darryl, Jade, Rachel, Rob, and Sean. It featured monologues by John Cooper and it was one of the greatest shows I've ever had the privilege to pay £3 for. If you are ever at the Lass O'Gowrie on the last Saturday of the month, I highly recommend this show.

The day would have been perfect apart from one thing: My phone crashed at the end of the first half of Let's See What Happens. No doubt it just couldn't take all that hilarity.

So I was without a phone for the rest of the evening, because I couldn't remove the battery as my phone has a fairly bulky case on it that I couldn't remove in the semi darkness of the The Lass O'Gowrie's Salmon Room.

So I waited until I got home and then removed the case. And managed to detach the battery and restart the phone. It's amazing. I'd forgetten how small and light my phone (HTC Desire HD) actually is without the protective case.

So after all that preamble here is this week's Mundane Monday snap:

That's right it's the protective case of my phone.

Exciting isn't it?

But at least you found out that I had a good Saturday.

Until next time,

Matt.

The future, as so many called it.

At the moment it isn't that old and is full of potential.

What am I going to do with my year?

Well in case you didn't read the title of this blog post, or you are reading this post using Internet Explorer 9 as your browser, I'll say it again. This is going to be my year of Improv.

What does that mean?

To most it would mean that I can't spell the word "improve." To others, it would mean improvisation.

But to me, it actually means that I want to improve and improv (aka making shit up on the spot).

To that effect I've started my fourth round of Intermediate level workshops with ComedySportz this past Saturday. For the next 8 weeks I'll be going to the Manchester Comedy Store every Saturday and making things up. It'll be fun. It always has been in the past and the last time I did the course I actually felt like I was improving.

There's also a group of workshop of attendees who do extra practice after class on alternate Saturdays. I went to the first one on the 7th January and it was a lot of fun. Unfortunately for me, I skipped out on the extra session this Saturday, as I was catching up with other classmates who I hadn't seen since the last course. I think the next one will be on the 5th February, so I'll be going to that one.

So that's two regular things that I will be attending in the hopes of getting better at improv. But that's not all. I've found two different sessions down in the Midlands (where I am during the week due to work). It's early days yet with my experience of these two groups but they seem like a fun bunch.

So that's three workshops a week, plus an extra one every other week.

In addition to all this, I'm going to London on the first weekend of March and I'll be going to an improv jam, which should be fun and free from preserves.

Hopefully I'll be improv'd (get it?) by the end of the year. And by then, who knows? The world could very well be, as my friend told me, my lobster!

This week finds the posts of this blog graced with the presence of a true Southern gentlemen, David Reece, as he made his way from Birmingham to the mean streets of Manchester this past Friday:

He didn't seem to like the grimness of t'North at first, as can be seen as I blocked his escape into Manchester Piccadilly train station.

But as I managed to drag him away from public transport, I placated him with the promise of booze.

And so we spent most of the evening in the Lass O'Gowrie drinking G&T.

I tried, but it'll obviously take more than one visit to make him a proper northerner.

Hope you enjoyed it.

And do we have a very special one for you today?

Well, it depends upon your definition of special, but I would say so, yes.

Not only did this past Thursday see the debut of season 6 of 30 Rock, but it also saw the arrival in the post of this:

That's right, it is Season 5 of 30 Rock. And you probably can't see from the angle of the photo, but the shrink wrap on the DVD has a lot of little pin holes in it. Probably so the cast could breathe during transit. Doesn't look like it worked for everyone, though. Kenneth looks like he could use a few deep breaths.

Now that I have the DVD, I can catch up with last year's Liz Lemon adventures and it will finally mean that I will understand what the hell this tweet from @BogNeSpava means.

It's time for the second Wednesday post of the year, I thought that I would post a sketch that I rewrote over Christmas as my last Second City course assignment.

Hope you enjoy it, and feel free to leave any comments or suggestions or general feedback in the comments section.

PRIVATE EYE
By Matt Fishwick – December 30th, 2011 (Rewrite 1).

(A Crumbling hallway of a 1950s style apartment block. A Private Eye is stood in the hallways dressed in a trench coat and hat. He is smoking a cigarette.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
It was a tough case. I trailed all over the city looking for that missing suitcase. From the Port Authority all the way to the Gin Authority. Nobody had seen, or was willing to say that they had seen the suitcase. I’d been to every low down dive in the Tri State Area, including that Pizza Joint on Seventh that was shut down by the health department when it was discovered that they hadn’t had a working pizza oven in three years. What can I say? They did make a great cup of Joe. It was my seventeenth day on the case, and was beginning to think that it would never end. The only bright point in the whole case was that I was being paid per day.

(The Private Eye is about to knock on the door of one of the apartments, but the voice over kicks in again. The Private Eye looks visibly agitated and begins to check his watch and tap his foot in frustration.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
It was after finishing a rather tasty pizza slice that I remembered that I hadn’t checked with the next door neighbour, who had conveniently been out of town since just after the theft. I had it on good authority from one of my stoop pigeons that they were back. It was difficult teaching that bird to talk. I had briefly considered putting in a parrot undercover, but it would stick out like a sore thumb, so I went with a pigeon.

(The Private Eye takes a book out of his pocket and begins to read.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
So now I was back to the apartment building. It was the second...

PRIVATE EYE
(without looking up from reading his book)
Third.

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
Sorry, the third time that I was back checking their whereabouts. If they weren’t there this time, I don’t know what I would do. I was nearly out of options. I was getting a little desperate.

PRIVATE EYE
(looking up from reading his book)
Can I go in now?

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
Go on, seeing as it’s you.

PRIVATE EYE
Okay then.

(The Private Eye pockets the book and knocks on the door of the apartment. After a few beats the door of the apartment is answered by a small child.)

PRIVATE EYE
Is your Mommy or Daddy home?

(The child shakes his head.)

PRIVATE EYE
Good.

(The Private Eye bursts in to the apartment. The child follows the Private Eye into the apartment.)

PRIVATE EYE
Why don’t you take a seat, punk?

(The child says nothing. The Private Eye stares at the child. The child stares at the Private Eye.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
As we stared at one another I could sense that the kid was schooled in the way of playing hard ball, as there was a ball in the corner of the room. It didn’t look all that bouncy neither.

(There is a beat and then the child takes a seat in the centre of the room on a chair.)

PRIVATE EYE
Look, kid, we all know what happened. We know it was you. We’ve got witnesses, so you might as well just admit it.

(The child just sits in the chair saying nothing, staring at the Private Eye.)

PRIVATE EYE
Playing it tough, are you kid? (beat) Well, I’ve met your type before, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. Sooner or later they always crack. Kids like you are always on the lookout for the latest grift to score some sweet, sweet candy. Well I’ve got news for you. You’ve messed with the wrong people. There’s no candy here, bub. So where are the goods?

(Once again, the child is silent.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
The kid was good at this. I couldn’t let him know that his tough stance would eventually make me lose interest in this. As I watched the kid, I noticed that he perked up a little bit just a second ago, and realised that maybe I wasn’t the only one that could hear me.

PRIVATE EYE
We’ve got you made kid. There are marks leading from their apartment to yours. We’ve even got photographic evidence of your sticky little paws, so just confess and the cops will go easier on you, otherwise you’ll be forced to make your own bed for a very long time.

(The child is unmoved by the threats of the Private Eye.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
There were marks that were...

PRIVATE EYE
(interrupting)
Will you shut up? (beat) Come over here.

(The Private Eye walks over to a corner of the room.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
What is it?

PRIVATE EYE
You’re too loud. He can hear you. He’s going to find out too much and then my interrogation won’t be worth diddly squat.

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
He doesn’t know about you crying yourself to sleep last night.

(The Private Eye looks over at the kid, and sees him smirking a little.)

PRIVATE EYE
Damn it.

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
Sorry.

(In a fit of anger, the Private Eye begins to smash the place up in the hopes of getting a reaction from the child. But he gets none.)

PRIVATE EYE
Is that going to change your mind?

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
To be honest, I didn’t think it would.

(The child shakes his head slowly and methodically, daring the Private Eye to do his worst.)

PRIVATE EYE
That’s how you want to play it, huh? (beat) In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I took a little look around, seeing as you got nothing to hide?

(The Private Eye runs off to another room for another second [lots of banging and noise off stage while he is away] before returning dragging a suitcase behind him. The Private Eye places the suitcase next to the child.)

PRIVATE EYE
Did you think I wasn’t smart enough to find it? (beat) Well, here it is. You and your five year old head are no match for my man’s brain.

(The child stays silent and unmoved by the Private Eye’s words and actions. The Private Eye is becoming visibly more agitated by the child.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
It was at that moment that I knew I would have to do something that that I loathed so much I swore I would never ever do again.

PRIVATE EYE
Alright, I’m going to enjoy this.

(The Private Eye cracks his knuckles.)

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
Ow.

(The Private Eye moves to take a swing at the child, but at the last second the Private Eye swerves and picks up the suitcase and moves it in front of the child and opens the suitcase.)

PRIVATE EYE
Aha!

(The Private Eye reaches into the suitcase and produces a set of house keys.)

PRIVATE EYE
I knew it was you. Finally all my antics that got me kicked off the force are justified. I’ve saved the world and I can return these keys to its rightful owner so they can get into their apartment. Let’s just hope that your neighbour’s cat is still alive. The only thing that would make this moment sweeter is a confession.

PRIVATE EYE (VO)
And maybe some ice for my knuckles.

PRIVATE EYE
Now that I’ve got you hook, line and sinker, what have you got to say for yourself, kid?

CHILD
I’m not telling you anything.

PRIVATE EYE
And why’s that?

CHILD
Because you’re a stranger.

(Blackout.)

This past weekend, I went to Manchester for the first time this year.

Okay, it wasn't actually Manchester, but Salford. (But try telling that to Salford University.)

And the reason I went to Manchester (Salford) was to do a bit of improv practice before I started with ComedySportz classes the week after next. I was there with a group of people that I met via ComedySportz. The improv was fun, even though I was quite rusty at it, and I got to meet 6 new people to boot.

And after we had improv practice, I walked back to the station and had a conversation with Lee. Thing was, we were going in opposite directions: Lee was off to do a gig in Yorkshire and I was off home alone, so we had the conversation over the tracks. And no, it didnt turn out like the match.com advert.

It was a fun time, even if my nipples were a little cold, there was too much talk of Lionel Blair and there was a lot of monkeyfucking.

For the first Wednesday post of the year, I thought that I would post a sketch that I wrote over Christmas as part of my Second City course.

SKETCH: SANTA VISITS THE MARRIAGE COUNSELOR
By Matt Fishwick – December 27, 2011.

(An office in which are sat a Marriage Guidance Counselor, Santa and Mrs Claus. There is a red sack next to the chair which Santa occupies.)

COUNSELOR
So tell me, Santa, have you given any more thought to retiring now that the Christmas season is over?

MRS CLAUS
I really think that he should contin...

COUNSELOR
(interrupting)
Come on now, Barbara, it’s Santa’s time...

MRS CLAUS
(interrupting)
Oh, it’s always his time to talk. His time to be the centre of attention. Never my time is it? No, it’s always my job to just stand there, smiling, feeling around his sack to provide an age appropriate gift for whoever is on his lap.

SANTA
Ho Ho Ho.

MRS CLAUS
You cheating bastard, we said we weren’t going to mention that again.

COUNSELOR
It doesn’t sound like you’ve come to terms with Santa’s method of working, despite you being the fifth Mrs Claus?

(Mrs Claus shoots the Counselor a disgusted look.)

COUNSELOR
But despite all that, you don’t want him to quit his job?

MRS CLAUS
Of course I don’t. When I met him, he was still married to the fourth Mrs Claus. But the moment I sat on his lap, I could feel something between us. A connection. There he was, a successful self employed businessman and me, a mere super model with my good looks and perfume endorsements.

SANTA
Of course that was before the failed Candy Cane Claus fragrance launch.

MRS CLAUS
I still maintain that would have worked with the right marketing.

SANTA
You targeted it at strippers.

MRS CLAUS
Of course I did. There’s no reason not to when you use the words “North” and “Pole” in the ad campaign.

SANTA
You know sometimes I think you did that on purpose so that I’d have to continue to working past the age that I originally planned to retire.

MRS CLAUS
(confused)
You love strippers, that’s how you met wives one, three and four. But it was your money. You had the final call.

COUNSELOR
So does this mean that you are not any closer to reaching a compromise?

SANTA
We can hardly compromise. Either I retire or I don’t.

MRS CLAUS
It’s not like he can go part time, either. He only works on day a year as it is.

SANTA
That’s not true...

COUNSELOR
We’re obviously not going to reach a sensible conclusion just arguing amongst yourselves. And that’s why I’ve invited some of your friends here today to see if we can break this deadlock.

(The Counselor walks over to the door and opens it. In walk three characters: Tired Old Elf with one arm, Young Elf and a Young Girl.)

COUNSELOR
Thanks for coming. Please take a seat.

(Tired Old Elf, Young Elf and a Young Girl take the seat where Counselor was sat. The Counselor looks at the new people and realizes that he has nowhere to sit. He sits cross legged on the floor.)

COUNSELOR
Okay, so now that we’re all here. Why don’t we take some questions from the people that your decision will affect the most?

SANTA
I’m not going to question myself. I’ve made up my mind.

MRS CLAUS
And so have I. (beat) You’re not retiring.

COUNSELOR
Alright, good, now that we’re all open to new ideas, let’s take some questions then.

(The Counselor looks around at the three new people. None of them has their hand raised, but the Counselor makes it look like it is a difficult decision over which one to pick, despite the fact that clearly none of them want to ask a question. The Counselor points to each one in turn and as he does so, each character shifts lower into their chairs, until one by one they all fall to the floor. The Counselor uses this opportunity to spring to his feet and retake his own chair.)

COUNSELOR
(points to Tired Elf)
You.

TIRED ELF
Santa, I hope that you will not listen to anyone else here and just listen to what’s in your heart and retire as soon as possible.

SANTA
That’s very nice of you to say, Buttons.

MRS CLAUS
I’ll bet that little bastard has an ulterior motive.

SANTA
Don’t be silly, I’ve done my best over the years to be happy all the time, I’ve always lead by example. Buttons just wants me to be happy. (beat) With you.

MRS CLAUS
Exactly, leading by example. (to Tired Elf) But why don’t you tell the real reason you want him to retire? Could it be this?

(Mrs Claus produces an Elf employment contract.)

COUNSELOR
What’s that?

MRS CLAUS
If you read the stage directions, you’d know it was an elf employment contract.

(Santa shifts uncomfortably in his chair and looks uncomfortable.)

MRS CLAUS
Why don’t I read off a few of the items in the contract?

COUNSELOR
Don’t you mean you’ll read a few of the clauses?

(The Counselor begins to chuckle to himself. Mrs Claus turns to the Counselor and slaps him, hard.)

MRS CLAUS
How dare you use such an old joke? I always said I’d slap the next person that said that to me.

SANTA
We don’t need to have that read out loud. Nobody here’s a lawyer, are they?

TIRED ELF
I could have been, had I not signed that contract and had to devote the rest of my life to your servitude.

MRS CLAUS
Do you see? (reads from the contract) It says here that the elves can only retire when Santa does. And since Santa is immortal he should never retire.

TIRED ELF
So because he is immortal he should never get to enjoy his golden years? And neither should I?

MRS CLAUS
You only want him to retire for selfish reasons.

COUNSELOR
I’m sure it isn’t for that. I know that Santa offers health coverage.

TIRED ELF
SantaCare Isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

COUNSELOR
Why do you say that?

(Tired Elf shoots counselor a look of disgust.)

TIRED ELF
Okay let’s do a little test. Everyone raise their left arm.

(The entire cast raises their left arms.)

TIRED ELF
Okay, now everyone raise their right arm.

COUNSELOR
Yep. Sorry. I can totally see it now. (beat) But surely having SantaCare means that you didn’t die?

TIRED ELF
Sometimes I wish that I was dead. It’d be a restful, except I was given this as a prosthetic.

(Tired Elf shows a candy cane to the Counselor.)

TIRED ELF
It isn’t even the right size.

SANTA
Size isn’t everything.

(Mrs Claus gives a snort of laughter. Santa looks at her with disappointment.)

SANTA
You could always eat it.

MRS CLAUS
I wouldn’t put my lips around that. I don’t know where it’s been.

SANTA
Don’t start, Barbara.

TIRED ELF
Well, I did eat it. Repeatedly. Hour after hour, day after day. Year after year.

(Counselor looks at Tired Elf and seems uncomfortable.)

TIRED ELF
Not his penis. The Candy Cane. You know what it got me?

COUNSELOR
A sugar rush?

TIRED ELF
Diabetes.

COUNSELOR
Oh.

TIRED ELF
Which isn’t covered by SantaCare.

SANTA
Have you not seen the state of the economy? I give away free toys for a living. I can’t just cover every little ailment in life.

TIRED ELF
(begins to lick the candy cane as he talks)
That’s why I want him to retire. To save all the other elves out there from ending up a one armed diabetic.

COUNSELOR
Should you be eating that?

TIRED ELF
They’re just so delicious.

(Tired Elf throws the candy cane to the floor.)

TIRED ELF
I’ve got to go check my blood sugar.

(Tired Elf exits.)

YOUNG ELF
What about me?

SANTA
I think we’ve all...

COUNSELOR
We should let the little fellow talk. I invited everyone here today for a reason?

MRS CLAUS
More billable hours?

YOUNG ELF
What will become of me? All my life I’ve been told that I’ll grow up and make toys. And now what?

MRS CLAUS
That’s true. There are thousands just like this little fella out there. You’ll make them all unemployed. There wouldn’t be so many of the little buggers had you put a stop to all the elf orgies that were happening when the production lines weren’t running.

SANTA
I’m sure we could all work something out. It isn’t the end of the world. Retraining, or something.

YOUNG ELF
It’s the end of my world. It’s all I know. Don’t retire, Santa. If we elves are forced to split up, I’ll never find out who my Dad is.

COUNSELOR
(to Young Elf)
And how does that make you feel?

SANTA
Hold it. I’m not paying for that kind of counseling.

YOUNG ELF
Don’t force me to retrain as a lawyer or a priest or a doctor. How would that help people? Where would they get their toys?

SANTA
Look, there are plenty of people out there in America who want jobs. If we shut down, there’ll be more jobs for regular Americans. We can get the economy moving again.

YOUNG ELF
What if I retrained as Santa? As your replacement? I know I have little experience, but I’m eager to learn into the role and then one day I’ll crush those that oppose me with the help of my army of elves, just like you.

SANTA
No one is replacing me. It’s just the end of Santa in my current form. We all just have to accept that capitalism needs a chance to develop. Imagine this as us just taking the training wheels off and sending America off down the driveway and hoping that it learns to apply the brakes before it gets crushed by the might of the Jones’ Studebaker. In this analogy the Jones’ Studebaker is Canada.

YOUNG ELF
I don’t think that I can take much more of this. We were one united Christmas Party and now you’re saying there’s a different way? I really don’t think that I can accept that.

(Young Elf begins to cry and rushes to exit.)

MRS CLAUS
Poor little bastard.

SANTA
I’m sure if he keeps guessing, one of his tries will be right on the Button.

COUNSELOR
How do you know?

SANTA
It’s on the list. The X rated naughty list.

MRS CLAUS
But, if you won’t think of the little elf, why don’t you think of the children of the world, who will miss you?

(Mrs Claus motions for the Young Girl, who comes and sits on Santa’s lap.)

YOUNG GIRL
Hi Santa. I’m so glad you’re here. I’m Amy.

SANTA
Ho Ho Hello, Amy. And how old are you, sweetheart?

YOUNG GIRL
I’m ten years old.

SANTA
Are your parents outside?

YOUNG GIRL
My parents are dead. I’m all alone in the world. That’s what I want for Christmas. You’re the only thing I believe in any more. If you’re retire who will bring me my parents back?

SANTA
Oh dear sweetheart, I’m sorry, it doesn’t work like that. (beat) Santa doesn’t visit orphans.

(The Young Girl looks shocked.)

SANTA
(shaking head)
I’m sorry, honey. It’s something that your parents would have told you had they been alive. Santa usually subcontracts the present delivery to the family. No family, no presents.

YOUNG GIRL
But I *believe* in you.

SANTA
Well Santa doesn’t believe you really understand how the world works.

(The Young Girl gets off Santa’s lap and moves to leave.)

COUNSELOR
That seems rather cruel.

SANTA
I’m not totally unfeeling. I can’t let you go home empty handed.

(Santa reaches into the red sack.)

YOUNG GIRL
I don’t have a home.

(Santa removes his hand. He’s holding a puppy.)

SANTA
In that case, I can’t give you this puppy. Puppies need a good home.

(Santa puts the puppy back in the red sack. Dejected, the Young Girl moves to the door.)

SANTA
Oh come back here, little girl. Santa’s had a change of heart.

(The Young Girl’s eyes brighten as she moves towards Santa again. Santa reaches into the red sack.)

YOUNG GIRL
I knew it wasn’t a mistake to believe in Santa. I’m going to name him Biscuit and we’ll...

(The Young Girl trails off as she sees what Santa has reached into the red sack for.)

SANTA
(unfurls his hand to reveal gift)
Here.

(Santa has given the Young Girl a vial of “Candy Cane Claus” perfume.)

YOUNG GIRL
What’s this?

SANTA
Candy Cane Claus perfume. I’m giving you this because you believe in me. Wear this my dear, and maybe, just maybe, in about eight years, Santa will believe in you.

(Blackout.)

Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought in the comments below.

And since nothing else of note happened anyehere in the world over the weekend, I'll talk about something that I have been working on since September 2011.

I've been taking an online sketch writing course with Second City, and this past weekend I finished the final module.

At 4.10am on December 31st, 2011 I wrote the final words to end the final sketch:

I'm glad that I did the course, and I'm kind of sad that it's over, because I now have no one pushing me to write a sketch every week. But hopefully, I'm going to continue writing a sketch every week, taking on board what I have learnt over the past few months. I might even post them on the website, where they can all be ingored for posterity, and not posterior, though most of them will probably be arsey.