December 2013 Blog


Hello! Welcome to my December blog. Pull up a chocolate log, stick a Satsuma in your stocking and sit down. But gentlemen, please don’t sit too close to that open fire or you’ll roast your chestnuts. Because “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” and I’m a comedian by profession, if not by reputation, just for a change I’m going to begin with some jokes.  Not just any old jokes. No. Some…Christmas cracker-style jokes.

I know – they’re usually corny, obvious, painfully unfunny and seem to be created by humourless, talent-free hacks who wouldn’t know how to write a clever, witty gag to save their lives.

So who am I to break with tradition?

Oh, go and put some sunglasses on and look on the bright side. By reading Christmas cracker jokes on my blog now, it’ll stand you in good stead when you have to suffer the indignity of reading similar jokes out loud at the family dinner table, after retrieving them from the tattered remains of a pulled cracker- along with a red paper hat that you’re obliged to wear at a jaunty angle. See? You’ve cheered-up immediately.  So here goes…

What do you get if you cross a retriever with a tortoise?

A dog that takes three weeks to fetch a stick.

That one fail to appeal to you? Worry not. There’s another one right behind…

Why could you get in trouble for eating German Christmas cake?

It could be stollen.

Hard to please little devil, aren’t you? Try this incredibly contrived one…

Who pulls Santa’s sleigh and has a snout that resembles a mans genitals?

Redolph The Rude-Nosed Reindeer.

Ah! Now I’ve found the level of humour that appeals to you.


On the first day of Christmas, what did my true love give to me?

I can’t tell you, but it still hadn’t cleared-up by the 12th day.

Now that you’ve got the flicker of a smile on your face, let’s have a seasonal sing-song.

“‘Tis the season to be jolly….fa la la la la…la la la la!”

Oh really?  So what that song is telling us is that the period leading-up to December 25th is the only time of the year we’re allowed to be jolly, i.e. happy and contented? That’s worth remembering while we’re late-night shopping in a crowded department store, after a hard day’s work, elbowing our fellow shoppers in the ribs as we push our way through the crowds in a right sweat, desperate to get to the shelf that contains the last remaining precious ‘must have’ toy of the year for our children/nephew/niece.

This ‘must have’ toy that they’ve begged and pleaded for since they saw it during the first flux of Christmas ads on TV – in mid-August – will usually have lost its appeal and been discarded by the time Christmas lunch is over and your elderly relatives are snoring away on the sofa while “The first of two special Christmas editions of Eastenders” unravels it’s laughter-free, life-sapping shenanigans, unwatched on your silent TV screen, while you’re in the kitchen, tea-towel in hand, attacking a pile of post-Christmas lunch washing-up that’s so enormous, so huge, so majestically awesome, it could be placed on stage in the middle of a performance of “Les Miserables” and two-dozen revolting students could climb on top of it and start singing a cheery, crowd-pleasing ditty while blasting their enemies to death with several volleys of musket bullets.

Take a breath, ‘Phil! That must rank as the longest sentence I’ve ever written. Look at it again if you don’t believe me. Anyone who can spot a full-stop (apart from the one that ends it!) will get a free ticket to my next gig.   Provided you can make it to the Chuckling Gravedigger Comedy Club, Corner of Abertoir Lane and Pustule Street, Beijing… on June 31st. 2017.

I’m not a soap fan, but I’ve often caught clips and trailers of “Eastenders”, when I haven’t been able to get to the remote in time to switch over to a programme that’s more entertaining and uplifting, like “Hitler’s Holiday Home Movies – In Colour “.

It seems to me the only difference between a normal episode and “The special Christmas editions”, is that in the Yuletide shows, while characters are screaming blue murder and pointing accusatory fingers and threatening each other, they’ve got gravy stains around their mouths and wear red paper hats that they’re obliged to wear at a jaunty angle.

So now you know what I don’t like about Christmas, you’ll want to know what I do like. Yes you do. You may not know it, but you do.

There’s so much to like about Christmas…( fade into nostalgic flashback sequence as snowflakes fall and an ethereal choir is heard on the soundtrack….)

I like receiving presents and giving presents. But I mainly like returning presents to the shop they came from within the statutory period and swapping them for something rather more useful and tasteful.  You can call me an ungrateful snob for doing that, but I don’t care. I can’t hear you, anyway. I really can’t.  Because I’ve got my fingers in my ears and I’m loudly humming “God Rest You Merry Gentlemen”.

I like sending out cards and receiving them. And I’m very aware of the need to re-cycle cards after the festivities are over. On 12th Night, as I take each card down, I carefully Tippex-out the name of the person who signed it and place it in a box, all ready to send out to someone else next year.

To paraphrase John Lennon, you may say I’m a cheapskate, but I see it as part of my effort to save the planet. I expend a similar amount of energy and enthusiasm in my selfless attempts to reduce the number of full wine bottles in the world. I do quite well at my un-ending quest on most weekends, but at Christmas time I put in an extra effort, which can occasionally result in my becoming as enthusiastic as a newt.

Just kidding.  I’m not drinking any more. Then again, I’m not drinking any less…

So, dear readers, I ask you to raise a glass of whatever your favourite tipple is (provided you’re not driving, in charge of heavy machinery or still fine-tuning your speech to the Nation for Christmas afternoon) and let’s wish each other a Merry Christmas and  Happy, Healthy and Prosperous New Year.

I’m looking forward to seeing as many of you as possible throughout 2014 and when you come to my gigs, don’t be shy. I’m very approachable despite being one of the rising stars in world of Welsh comedy and a superb entertainer who regularly rubs shoulders with the great and the good. And Carwyn Jones.

So, don’t hold back. Come right up to me – not when I’m on stage, obviously or I’ll be contractually obliged to knee you in the nuts –  shake me by the hand and say “Hiya ‘Phil. I enjoy reading your blog so much, here’s a little token of my thanks” and surreptitiously place in my top pocket a  crisp ten pound note or a cheque for any amount, made out to my real, off-stage, name.  C. Ash. I may even give you a Cwtsh.

Be seeing you….