Edinburgh Cunting Festival

[Jake The Muss]

On 8/15/2016 at 10:15 PM, Tata Steely Dan said:

Imagine that for absolutely no reason everybody decides that for one month of the year they will kick your front door down and ransack your house for a month. Do a little digging and it turns out that your house has, arbitrarily, been the 'festival' house since the early 1950s, though you cannot think of a good reason why. You wake up one morning and there is an angry Japanese woman in your kitchen shouting "WHICH WAY CASTLE?" as you try and make your breakfast. You cannot get dressed without some failed stage-school Daddy's Money cunt trying to hand you a flyer. You go into the bathroom and there is a loud English twat in there bellowing about his one-man re-imagining of The Taming of the Shrew, as seen through the eyes of legendary castrated code-breaker Alan Turin, himself re-cast as a transgender man in a North Korean concentration camp. Naturally his play is being performed in your shower, that you have to share with an unwashed Spanish tourist with a raging head cold because he is the only other sap that got coaxed into attending this bollocks. Your house quickly fills up with dreadful people who eat all your food, stub dreadful cigarettes out on all the furniture, clog the toilet with their dreadful meaty English shits and break all the crockery with their dreadful English clumsiness. A hoard of passive-aggressive, ignorant fucks that don't know how to read a map or figure out how any of the public transport works, and who think that bus drivers double up as tourist information officers. 

When these cunts finally leave they ram a wad of greasy tenners into your front pocket with a final bellow of 'same time next year old chap?'. As you mull this over you quickly realise that the wad of tenners won't cover the cost of the cleanup, and that most of the money went to some other cunts anyway who won't offer any help.

The Edinburgh festival is shite. Don't bother coming here, just take it from me.

The Fringe is worse. Every cunt who did drama at school, and who is now resigned to an utterly pointless middle-management office job, seems to take this month as the time to cut loose and imagine that they are some luvvie cunt. For 11 months of the year you adhere to the strict office dress-code, but this is the one change you get to dig out the pastel-shade sweaters, chinos and loafers. Time to imagine that they are still a thespian or tortured artist at heart, even if they work in accounts. At one point back in the wilds of the [80s it was possible to see a rising comedian in the Fringe, playing a grubby church hall somewhere for 50p a ticket. Now the Fringe is exclusively the preserve of £10 tickets to see any cunt even half decent, in a venue sponsored by a multi-national drinks company. The Fringe was meant to be the grimier, grittier underside of the festival, but now it is a bigger corporate stitch-up than the real Festival; hundreds of dreadful comedians with still clamouring to 'make it' at the already saturated Fringe. There is the mincing upper-middle class English one of dubious sexual orientation that uses their general limp-wristed uselessness as a source of self-effacing humour. There is the rough Northern-English one who over-shares their personal information and issues, or the rough cockney-geezer one that talks about his Dad giving him a stolen bike at Christmas. There is the token minority women who gets one joke in per appearance on Mock The Week and insists on making jokes about head scarves to a sea of uncomfortable giggles. There is the Nineties-era dinosaur recycling Nineties-era jokes in a conference center somewhere on the edge of town (Stewart Lee, Richard Herring, David Baddiel or one of those other ancient unfunny cunts). Then there is all the nerdy cunts recording podcasts where they discuss facts to boring to make it into an episode of QI, thicko 'dreamy' girls who sing songs about genital herpes while playing the ukulele, foreign cunts with a single rat-tail dreadlock playing in 'Balkan' bands or all the other cunts generally stinking the place up with their mundane, third-rate bollocks.

The worst bit is that when I travel abroad, or even elsewhere in the UK, I have to contend with Festival cunts telling me how much they love my city, even though they only know the inside of a dozen pubs and venues. They totally get Edinburgh, because they paid £25 to see some second-tier Live at the Apollo cunt in the Fosters Magic Comedy Tent at the Pleasance, paid £20 for two Gin and Tonic and then locked themselves out of the shitty student flat they paid £300 to stay four days in. For all the money the Festival and Fringe brings in the city doesn't seem any better for it.

Fuck me gently, did you find one of the dead sea scrolls ?