February 2026

Aimée Hinds 

My name is Aimée Hinds, I entered onto the comedy circuit around June and do as many open spots as I can. I am a darkly funny storyteller who finds humour in the places most people try to forget.Drawing from my real experiences with mental health, including time spent in the psyche wards, I turn chaos into comedy with raw honesty and razor-sharp wit. My performances blend vulnerability, defiance, and perfectly timed gallows humour. I  don’t  just talk about survival, I laugh in its face. Heckle me and You’ll arrive in heckler hell, be it on your head.When I’m not doing stand up comedy, you’ll find me on air at Paisley Radio as part of a trio hosting the breakfast show.I have been writing for years and I am currently writing a book about my life. My life has always been a tad wild and it felt right to start writing about it.The reason I decided to embark on a journey into the comedy world was so I could share my stories and express to others who struggle that they are not alone.I often overshare details of my life that others find traumatic and stories are met with a gasp, yet I do it in a way people that make people laugh. I am an open book, whose raw honesty is often appreciated. I have met so many authentic, colourful characters on my journey so far and absolutely love that I have found these people.Over the last year my life has taken a full 180, and I am now living life for me on my terms without letting mental illness haunt me. It’s still a struggle but I am extremely positive and just vibe with whatever is thrown my way.I have included an extract from my book, maybe a publisher will see it, hahah. Yes, I am also a chancer. I promise it does get funny!

The book is still to be named, hit me up with ideas for it. You’ll find on social media via Instagram - @aimee.hinds.comedy and Facebook - Aimée Hinds.“ In this life, i have been blessed in many ways. I have been blessed by an abundance of life experiences in my 36 years around the fiery star in which our existence rotates.From the most amazing experiences to the utterly soul shattering. I have felt the intensity of the full spectrum of emotions, including ones I didn’t want to feel and ones I still cannot find a word to aptly describe. The sensations I felt, feel through my body, mind & soul as they engulf my entire being, no words can describe.I am blessed because one must encompass the experience of life in all its light and darkness. One must feel the real chaos of raw sentient emotions and experiences in order to truly live. To feel so deeply is to be alive. To experience this world so vividly, is to truly live a life fulfilled.For a long time I battled with the concept that life isn’t supposed to be THIS hard. I would look around me and see others appearing to sail through life, the normal highs and lows, the expected life experiences that we all encounter somewhere along our journey.I would wonder why has my life taken me on such a wild and often painful ride? Why do I have to deal with all this chaos and others appear to sail along calm waters. Why me?When these thoughts surface - my memory is awakened. I am taken back in time; to when I was around 4 years old, perhaps.I am a little girl again. I don’t feel like I belong. I feel much wiser than I should, I know things I’m certain I shouldn’t and I can’t shake the feeling that all of this isn’t normal. It was surreal being here on this earth. It doesn’t feel like home.I sigh and then a tingling feeling of excitement bubbles in my tummy. A voice whispers,“you’re going to experience all life has to offer, ALL OF IT! You’re going to be ok, I promise. ” It dawned on me I chose to come here to this earth, I had work to do, what that work entailed couldn’t recall. I am Not scared, not one molecule of fear encompasses my being. I smile and skip back to playing the little girl role I’m trapped in at that moment.I have always felt things so deeply.The world was bright, vivid, vibrant and being in nature was my absolute favourite place to be. It was peaceful, I loved to look at the flowers and collect bugs, i loved learning about the world and working out the whys and hows of nature. I soaked up everything around me, the noises, the scents, what I could see, touch, taste. The aura of existence. I felt it in my soul, I felt it all. I am still that little girl, masquerading in an adults body.This world can be a loud and scary place, but right there in that particular moment.  I felt at peace. I felt true, undiluted happiness. I was encompassed by a mysterious unexplainable love and nothing could hurt me. I felt protected by something more than the protection offered by parents.I really didn’t know just how loud and scary this world could be. I didn’t know what experiences were planned for me, I knew I was to experience a life fulfilled but what those experiences would be, escaped me.I was always scared of the dark, the shadows moving across my bedroom walls, the inability to see. It was suffocating, overwhelming. This turned into me always running from darkness, from my shadow self. Until one day, I remembered that little  4 year old me, who had absolutely no fear. That inner voice that promised her that she was going to be ok, she was protected.The inner voice I came to resent for many years,  because everything was absolutely not ok! No-one understood me, no-one knew how to effectively communicate with me, how to help me regulate my emotions. They didn’t understand my needs, my strengths weren’t celebrated or encouraged, only the “flaws” consistently pointed out. I was a problem! I was THE problem. It was shoved in my face repeatedly as a child that I was a problem!So I’ve always had the inherent belief that I am a problem, this didn’t align with the whisper I so vividly heard at 4 years old. when the realisation I was nothing more than a problem hit me like a tsunami in my chest,  I tiptoed accordingly. I had to ensure I caused no problem, I shut my true self down. No matter what I did, it was always met with disdain. Overwhelming guilt consumed me for years, it still rears its ugliness in all its glory. It’s power Earth shatteringly beautiful.It’s hard to shake core beliefs that are developed in early infancy, especially when they are reinforced consistently…Then “the problem” started…and so much fu**ng as she did so…”

Sarah-May Philo February 2026  

​Sarah-May Philo (42) from Glasgow is a comedian and has a “gorgeous, if outrageously smelly, family of two boys and a husband”. Sarah-May is a special needs teacher by day and “does a bit of comedy” in the evenings. We chatted in early January and here is what I found out.

 I started by asking about her comedy profession so far.

“Well, I haven’t been paid for comedy since 2016 so I don’t think I can really justify being known as a professional. At best I am a work in progress. I was a finalist in Comedy Central’s Clean You’re Act Up but that feels like a lifetime ago.”

 That’s brilliant you did that competition, so you are funny then?

“I don’t think anyone can claim that honour. If others think I’m funny then I’ll go along with that. Equally many think I’m not. I grew up with funny people therefore they rubbed off on me. My idols that I look up to I suppose are Eddie Izzard, Elaine C Smith and Frankie Boyle. I grew up watching them but I only considered the idea of doing comedy when I saw Joe Heenan and Susan Calman at The Stand. My dad had taken me along when I was 15 (Sarah-May’s dad knew the owner) and it was just so, so funny. I laughed until I had a stitch and almost immediately wanted to be just like them.” 

Then, a few years later, Sarah-May took the plunge.

“I started comedy in my early 20’s, but I remember that day like it was yesterday; I was living in New York then and one night I went to an open mic night which one of my mates was going to do.​  She persuaded me to join her so I jotted a few things down and went on stage. I pretty much died on my arse but had a couple of laughs and it made me think I could do this as a kind of hobby. I told my mum about it and for my birthday she bought me a course at Glasgow’s Royal Scottish Academy for Music and Drama (RSAMD) which had huge comedy names teaching the course. I still remember Stuart Mitchel and myself having so much fun during the classes and me getting told to lose the piano! They didn't hold back”.

Then, tragically in March 2017, life took a scarily unexpected turn meaning that her bid for comedy fame had to be parked.

Sarah-May was diagnosed with a brain tumour. This took up her life, was stressful, exhausting, scary and worrying for her, her family, her partner and her friends until her treatment of chemo and radiation, losing her hair, side effects and secondary conditions including but not limited to low mood, exhaustion and fatigue was complete.

 You can read about Sarah-May’s cancer journey in her blog:

https://sarahmayp.wordpress.com

By reading the blog, Sarah-Mays personality, determination and her sense of humour shine through the horror of having cancer at such a young age. Sarah called her tumour “Roger”, which is better than the tumours formal name of Oligodendroglioma…see, Roger is much easier, but is it Moore or the Dodger? As it happens both names are quoted in her blog.

After this terrifying experience came to its end Sarah-May’s new post-cancer life took a new shape. In 2019 the boyfriend who was with her during her cancer turned into her husband. Sarah-May married and then their family came along with the birth of her two boys and a life without “Roger”.

Back to seeing joy in her life and thinking again about comedy, the funniest people in Sarah-May’s life now are her kids. Sarah-May says:

“The two of them are so funny and have so much expression and personality. Even at ages 5 and 2 I can tell they’re going to do so well in life just based on their ability to make people laugh. It’s the most terrific thing if you’re able to laugh with your kids.”

Post tumour and a hectic but greatly appreciated family life, Sarah-May does want to pursue comedy again. So, what now, I ask.

“I think I just want to get to where I was before Roger was discovered. It was a long hard recovery and I miss my old life. I adore my husband and kids and now I just want to laugh. Preferably with an audience in front of me.”

​I think Sarah-May will get there.

The perfect way to finish up but not before I ask Sarah-May about the inner workings of her psyche as I ask which of the images she relates to most.

“I must be honest and say none of them really. I guess if I had to choose one would be the solar system and I’d say something like ‘because I can reach for the stars’ or some bollocks like that but it’s really only because my husband is a scientist and my world currently is full of the solar system and metaphysics and that sort of stuff….If I were to choose an image for me I’d say it was this one:

​I think it represents my brain, my thoughts that get jumbled up. ages constantly going on in my head all at once. After “Roger” (see above) my memory comes and goes intermittently. I suddenly remember something from 10 years ago and it makes me laugh out loud. It's all a bit jumbled but lovely all the same. 

My Stand-Up Journey 

By Graham McGregor  

Just a hard working dad really 

I started my comedy journey back in 2024. I was supposed to be starting the first course in April of that year but because the show at the end clashed with a holiday I'd booked, I decided to push it back to the next one in October. 

I almost wasn't going to get to perform in December as although I'd raised the required amount for charity, I was unable to sell any tickets. This wasn't for a lack of trying. So many people had promised me they'd buy tickets but in the end, none of them did. 

Fortunately, I did get to perform in the end. I don't know whether it was out of pity for me or because I was just that good. I can only hope it was the latter.

A week later, I got my second gig. I know for a fact that it was because someone felt bad for me, as I'd posted on Facebook when I thought I wasn't going to get to perform with Ultra. Anyway, I managed to bring my mother to that one. Even though that gig featured burlesque performers. Thankfully I was sitting with the rest of the comedians while those shows were happening, so I couldn't see where my mum was sitting. In the end, I needn't have worried too much as her only concern was that the girls were a bit cold performing in such a draughty room.

All in, I must have done about a dozen gigs across 2025 with varying levels of success. Some highlights include Open Sauce, the Edinburgh Fringe, Stand and Deliver (my first paid gig), and Calabash (for the Glasgow international comedy festival).

Speaking of the GCIF, I have a split bill with Ray Fordyce and Stevie Wicks titled 'Specs, Fudge, and Toilet Roll' on the 22nd of March.

And in June, I plan on scaling Ben Nevis for charity with a bunch of other comics. I don't think I should have to do any training for it and I will die on that hill.

Zombie In Your Head 

Richard Lala December 2025

I met this incredible lassie, while on holiday in Thailand, she was my Spanish wild cat and I was her funny, Scottish, Play-Thing.  

I was there with a group of friends, not one of them had an interest in KickBoxing, but we were on Krabi Island, and I really wanted to go and see what it was like - what would a bitch [GAY] like me want with martial arts, I hear you ask? Well, I’ll have you know that my Auntie Shirley trained with sense (Billy) Coyle, and if she hadn’t buckled at the pressure of public performance on the day of her final test, she would have undoubtedly been the first female in UK history to gain her black belt in aikido. But before today, that’s not where my reverence has been for the incredible arts of fighting.  

I was mercilessly bullied throughout High School. Being a Goth, I had my music to get me through - never underestimate the power of music. Eventually, thanks to ‘Stars In Your Eyes’, I discovered Boy George - a ‘boy’ who wore makeup - and I was transfixed…he quickly turned that sad, little, dark moon child into a shining New Romantic rainbow. His songs spoke to me and helped me cope with being unifiedly targeted with hatred. While I have most certainly come to terms with my existence, I’ll always look back and wonder why I was so overtly, collectively bullied - like some dark cloud unifying everyone against the existential dread of their mere proximity. 

To even dare to speak to me was seen as “gay” by association. No one dared speak kindly in any way to me. In fact, if the other children, perhaps raised to be empathetically conscientious, didn’t join in with the taunts of “bender”, “poofter”, “shirt-lifter”, “shit-stabber”, “jobby-jabber” - the list goes on…but, not wanting to alarm the censors, I think I’ll leave it there…don’t want my words used as a ‘bunch of sticks’ to burn me! If the other pupils refused to join in with the mob mentality they risked being exiled alongside me, and in a remote, Highland high school with zero alternate options, absolutely no one wanted that! Mine was the fate most dreaded. 

Bullying has lasting effects upon the psyche. To this day I tense whenever I hear people laughing behind me - I’ve swung round a few times only to realise that I’d frightened the joviality out of some innocent partygoers - I can’t tell you how many times I’ve taken my jacket off to check my back after hearing someone regardlessly spitting behind me. But the truly traumatic, psychological effects of prolonged, vindictive bullying impacts on much deeper, unhealthier levels that I’d perish to mention here. 

I walked into the Thai KickBoxing arena telling myself not to lick my lips should a splash of blood from a punched face splatter mine. I was trembling with anticipation, visibly smiling with excitement at the thought of watching these men beat the living daylights out of each other…something I wish I’d been audacious enough to do in school all those years ago - instead of solemnly limping home and silently crying, while wishing Freddy Kruger would slash them all to pieces in their dreams - all so I wouldn’t have to endure another day of constant torment, taunting mockery and inhumane ostracism. You can certainly criticise my experience, but at least you can’t disregard my honesty with any undue flippant, captious opinion. My horrid fantasies are founded in real life persecution. The roots of my pain are deeply bedded in my psyche, and while I have made great efforts not to harbour unfounded hatred, my resentment lingers like the angry wakings from a traumatic but familiar nightmare. I could go on to describe how the worst of me balances the best, but we’re here to hear about Thailand, not the sad, splintered remnants of my abused past. 

I went into the Thai boxing expecting to see two dudes kicking heck out of each other but instead, I see two devout athletes piously honouring the four directions of the ring, the way a highly trained stage performer might remember to do. But wait, I’ve jumped ahead… 

Upon entering the arena, the ring was bare. Wanting the full experience, and because it included a T-shirt (for the old memorabilia), I purchased a VIP ticket, and was led to a raised two seater couch, where I was later joined by a giant, handsome Polish man. We sipped our beers, I wondered if his friends, like mine, had no interest, or if he was travelling alone, but before any real conversation could get started, the lights came up and a tiny little girl, couldn’t have been more than nine years old, entered the ring. I instantly recognised the music and as she raised the microphone to her lips, it wasn’t long before the pair of us were joining in with the world famous Cranberries’ song, Zombie. Wow! This little tot could sing! Soon we were applauding her with appreciative cheers and whoops. 

Introductory entertainment over, we prepared for the spectacle we’d paid to see. I was sat like a wolf ready to gorge on blood, but instead, I was fundamentally changed for the better. No, I didn’t get my “payoff”, quite the contrary, I was actually humbled by the immense reverence of the martial artists on display. These men were not kicking hell out of each other. They were bound by principled moves, in the way a dancer is confined to steps and order. There was no blood, yes, there were more than a few surprise kicks, so lightning fast they sent the sparkled recipient staggering backwards. But their incorruptible moves, matched with the attentive referee, saw that no one was really hurt. I was enjoying this new brand of fighting. It wasn’t quite aikido, whose goal is to nonviolently end conflict by matching the opponent’s force, but it was certainly a far-cry from the no-holds-barred cagefighting we’ve become all too accustomed to in the West. This Eastern method of combat was refined and respectful. I was in awe of its humble, refined restraint. 

After the third bout my beautiful Polish brother in boxing, whose big thigh next to mine was like a tree trunk beside a fence post, got up and left. I was only beginning to enjoy stretching-out when this beautiful, wild cat tugs my sleeve and asks if she can sit up beside me. I gallantly agreed, extending my hand to help her climb up. She needed no help! Springing to the platform like a tigress! ‘Let’s get a drink’, she said. Calling the waitress and ordering us drinks. When they arrived, I went to pay, but she shoved me backwards into the settee and ardently paid. This rare specimen of female empowerment had me both wishing I was Straight, while at the same time relieved that I wasn’t. I don’t know how best to describe her, she was like a wild cat, intense, excessive, expressive, and knew nothing about the boundaries of personal space. It seemed the more she flexed, the more rigid I became. This of course made her all the more eccentric! 

Let me describe the scene. Arena, ring, tiered VIP couches and her standing, up on her haunches, on the couch next to me, yelling at the opponents as she punched and elbowed the air in front of her. It was exciting and impressive because she was just so completely uninhibited. Turns out she was Spanish, an MMA [Mixed Martial Arts] fighter who was dating a boy from Dundee, whom she called her ‘Ginger Ninja’…he was also a kickboxer, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a certain sense of nervousness, incase he came in and got the wrong idea of me frolicking with his misses! It is difficult to use mere words to describe how amazingly intense this wonderful woman actually was; ‘energetic’ simply doesn’t cut it! She was like a tornado, unpredictable and both exciting and terrifying all at the same time. There’s me, sat like Sean Connery in Medicine Man, with my white trilby, trying to look comfortable, while ‘Spanish Fire’ has her tattooed leg thrust in my face showing me the bruises from her latest frivolity with her beloved, Ginger Ninja. 

‘Look’ she said, sticking her tongue out. ‘He did this!’ Her tongue piercing was ripped sideways, tearing through half of her tongue. Turns out he’d punched her during their “play-fights” a little harder than he meant. I could see why such play-fights could get carried away…her frequency was so highly vibrant it would be difficult not to get swept up in it. ‘Look!’ She pulled the neck of her top across her shoulder to reveal another bruise from their high jinks escapades. Now, usually when a woman speaks to me about being bruised and bashed by her man, she’s looking for advice on how to ditch him…not best him in their next fight! She absolutely blew my mind on every level! Soon the boxing became a secondary act, as she’s scrolling through her phone, showing me image after image, video after video, of her man competitively training, boxing, flexing - the Ginger Ninja was a hottie! But all this intensity was a little overwhelming, so I excused myself for a smoke. ‘I’ll come with you!’ 

The next minute we’re outside at the arena bar, she’s showing me defensive moves, which basically meant me in a headlock with her knee up my back! The little bar ran along the wall and the barman behind it was visibly afraid. ‘I challenged him to a fight for ringside seats!’ She said, pointing at the barman and hopping about like she’s ready for round two. He smiles nervously. ‘Beat your ass, didn’t I?’ She taunts, grinning in a way you don’t know if it’s playful or she’s going to spring across the bar and bite his nose off! 

‘Are you a proud Scotsman?’ She asks me. The next minute he’s opening a white, expensive looking box of malt whisky. Now, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this yet, but she’s completely steaming drunk…handling it well, but totally intoxicated. I try explaining that the way to drink malt is to sip and sook, but before I can even explain about the vapours, she asks. ‘Like this?’ And necks the full glass - remember, the measures in countries abroad are two thirds alcohol to one third mixer, or in this case, ice! I’m not the most comfortable around drunk folk when I’m sober, so I leave her toying the timid barman and head back in for a pee. On my way back into the arena I clock two guys taking rest on our couch, and I quietly think to myself, just wait till you meet my tiger! 

I come out of the toilet and she’s got the pair of them cornered. One’s almost laying on top of his buddy, they’ve both got their arms out mercifully terrified. ‘We’re sorry, we’re sorry, we’ll move…’ but they couldn’t get past her. She was standing there, legs in widened attack stance, arms spread like Xena Warrior Princess, fingers like hooks, ready to maul the pair of them. I tell them it’s ok, usher them along the couch with my hands and, taking her hands, calmly guide her into the seat. She’s got them so squashed together, they’re practically sitting on each other’s lap, making space for me. This was where I made my goodbyes. Spanish Fire tells me she’s coming back to my hotel room, but I make excuses about my family waiting for me and I leave. I thought she was going to cry…and I too felt my heart yearning to stay. We were like kindred spirits and, as brief as our encounter might have been, I think I will always remember her with a smile of pure, treasured excitement. 

A Day in the Life - In the life of a Creative

Zubair Asghar ​

Goodness, being in the arts is just so draining sometimes isn’t it? You take hours, days even, to wait for inspiration to write, draw, animate, create… and sometimes you come up with nothing. You start to doubt yourself. You start to wonder if you’re just not with the effort you put in. You start to think, ‘imposter syndrome? Yup, my face plastered all over it.’

I get it. At the best of times, we can’t help but think that we just aren’t good enough. We could be doing more - in fact we SHOULD be doing more. Why am I just sitting here at the desk, canvas or screen, and not doing anything? Why can’t I get myself to make SOMETHING? Was I only good for the last few things I made? Has my creative juices just run out? Am I not as talented as I thought I was, or as I wanted to be?

Well, I got news for you. You’re not alone. Literally EVERY creative, has hit this wall. We look around, wondering where the heck the door or window is through it. We’ll pace up and down it, try to run around it, but to no avail. And then, we take a few steps back and just stare at this wall, with the risk of an overwhelming feeling of defeat weighing on us.

Now that you’ve taken a step back, and you’ve stared long enough, there’s one thing you could do. You have to think about why you’re pursuing creative endeavours in the first place. What did you want out of it? When you grabbed that mic, picked up the pen or brush, or sat in front of the computer, what was the end goal? 

Maybe, you just wanted to do this for fun. You wanted to express yourself so that you can be seen, maybe even accepted. You just wanted to get an idea out that came to you, because it’s cool to share something with people and have their approval. You didn’t have huge aspirations of becoming world famous, or being written in history. You just wanted to scratch that itch, to create.

There’s nothing wrong with that at all. In this modern, capitalist, ‘hustle or die’ culture we live in, it’s almost a shameful thing that you’re not trying to make money in ANYTHING you do. You must be deemed as the person who is always making moves, always smashing goals and always achieving things. Otherwise, you’re just a waste of breath and space.

What nonsense. What happened to just having a past time, enjoying a hobby? If you can make a bob or two, great. But if you sacrifice the joy of creating for the pursuit of status or wealth…well, that bucket never fills. You’ll be eventually looking at yourself in spite - ‘why can’t I make these things happen? I should be just as good as anyone else who made it. If I’m not, then what’s the point of doing it?’

The point, my comrade, was because you did it for the love of expression. You did it so you could scratch that itch, and have joy in sharing it with others. You don’t have to attain greatness - and not attaining greatness does not resign you to insignificance or obscurity, unless you choose to make it mean that. Having said all that, let’s get back to that wall.

Sometimes when you stare at that wall, as it stares back at you, maybe you have to take a few more steps back. Maybe you have to walk away, and  come back later to see if something has presented itself. Maybe time doesn’t just heal wounds, but reveals antidotes too. Maybe, you’ve done all you can and that’s ok, that’s more than many people have ever done their whole lives. You’ve created memories, feelings, connections. Be proud of yourself.

On The Road with Laura Pryde

Came for the funny, stayed for the cool people

By Laura Pryde 

Growing up I had two main obsessions. 

The first was the theatre.  As a teenager I read plays, went through a strange (strange by anyone’s standards, not just a 14 year old,) phase of studying theatre design and architecture (i mean this nerd was reading Vitruvius for pete’s sake, get a bloody life!) but most of all I loved performing, I studied acting and musical theatre at college and for a while I even managed to make a career out of it, working in education, using theatre skills to teach school kids about Scottish history and culture. I still take the odd spin back to the theatre with the occasional acting role, such as appearing in the debut of A Waiting Game by Lori Delany last year.   

My second obsession was funny stories. I loved reading and writing them, I loved hearing them told by the stupid boys at school and the drunk aunties at family parties and of course I adored stand up. I went to my first gig when I was 11 (Norman Lovett) and that was all I needed to know. I grew up in Edinburgh so I was spoiled for stand up; while my music nerd friends were collecting Slipknot and Korn patches to stitch onto their school bags, I would hang around the Pleasance and other big fringe venues in the summer, cadging free tickets when I could and getting star struck when Sean Hughes walked past. 

Somehow it didn’t ever occur to me to put the two passions, stage and laughs, together. 

It wasn’t until I was well into my thirties, one night after a gig my husband casually said “you’re funny, you should do that”. Initially my reaction was to say don’t be so daft, but the idea sort of stuck.  A few years went by while I thought about it but I just didn’t know how to get started.  

Aat some point early in 2024 I saw an Insta advert for the Ultra stand up course and thought well, maybe I could give it a go. My swimming buddy had already signed us up to do a big fundraising event in the summer (a group of us swam the full length of Loch Lomond) so I thought I would just top up the funds by doing the comedy event and then I’d get to tick ‘tried stand up’ off the bucket list.   

That was the plan honestly. Say yes, do the thing. One and done. Cheers.  

When I signed up for Ultra, I guessed that I would enjoy the performance, because of the whole being a disgraceful show off thing, and while I did enjoy that first gig, it passed by in a blur and I knew I could do better, I just needed the energy to prove that to myself. But life is busy, energy is limited and I have a young child to look after. I loved writing material about my mad wee mammy life, but at that point I was so knackered with the whole mum gig, that I just didn’t have the brain capacity to really consider a comedy future. 

What I didn’t account for, when I started Ultra course, was that I would make friends. I never expect to do that. In fact I usually make a point of not doing that. But someone added me to a group chat and suddenly I have comedy mates. Creative types, all with different performance experience and energy levels, all encouraging each other to “say yes and do cool shit”. With their encouragement I started to apply to open spots and gigs and suddenly it’s two years later and I’m still performing as often as I can.      

I can’t really explain the difference it makes having a gang of comedy brains in my pocket at all times. They offer creative solutions: punch ups when your idea is good but the execution is iffy,  honest feedback when the execution is fine but the idea sucks. Someone to knock sense into you when you’re in a mood and someone to celebrate with when you absolutely killed it. 

We share the practical stuff too; introductions, gig opportunities, lifts, and some of us started to organise our own gigs. Not me obviously, I can barely organise a spoon in a teacup, but the organised ones invited me to join in! Last year we took our girls only show, Lady Bits, to GICF and sold out, so we took it on a mini tour, finishing with two insanely fun nights at the Edinburgh Fringe.  

 I came for the funny, stayed for the cool people. 

 Without them I wouldn’t be all over this year’s GICF like a rash.

 Without them I wouldn't be performing comedy at all. 

GAMING 

BY Euan Scarlett

Hello and Happy New Year! I realise its February now but since we’ve had a wee break, Happy New Year!

It’s been a quiet couple of months for me in games land, and I haven’t done a huge amount of gaming due to accidentally committing to 5 different shows at the upcoming Glasgow International Comedy Festival 2026 in March. However I did have some great fun over the festive period introducing my sibling’s kids to the wacky history of videogames via the power of emulation.

​If you don’t know what an emulator is, putting it simply, it’s a type of computer program that, when you run it, allows whatever computer or machine you’ve run it on to pretend it is a different type of machine or computer. It can then run software and games created for that machine it is pretending to be. There are emulators for almost every type of retro home computer or operating system, historical video game consoles, old coin-operated arcade games like Pac-Man or Space Invaders and even digital recreations of physical pinball tables which play uncannily like the real deal. With the right information, you can easily tap into pure unadulterated nostalgia and play all the games of your childhood from yesteryear, or even pretend you’re a cunt working on Wall Street and boot up an original 1988 version of Excel 2.0 for the true Patrick Bateman experience, if that’s what you are after.

Speaking of Patrick Bateman, I have a daft oldskool mp3 player for listening to tunes on the bus to work, and despite me having the extremely, stupidly, long playlist of entirely music I own -which according to the data presented on the tiny screen, would take over 35 days to play through if I listened to every track in order, and I’ve only got half what I own on there - despite me having the extremely, stupidly, long playlist on random, the thing seems to have moods and get into specific bands, and delve heavily into their back catalogue. Sometimes this is fun when it’s into a mix of Iron Maiden; Norway’s most successful musical act of all time, A-ha; Jurassic 5; a random collection of Japanese Hip-Hop I bought in Tokyo, and Daft Punk’s magnificent soundtrack for Tron: Legacy. I sadly haven’t been able to watch the new Tron movie yet or heard the Nine Inch Nails soundtrack either, mostly because Jared Leto is problematic.

​Going back to the mp3 player however, I shat it when it went on a Madonna kick recently and played so much Madge on a single bus journey in January that I had to check online she hadn’t died, and that I didn’t have the mp3 player equivalent of the notebook from Death Note, ‘cos the last time that happened was when Bowie croaked 10 years ago. Right before he popped off to meet the Starman, I’d had everything from the Ziggy era classics to his ill-fated dabble with metal in Tin Machine, then heavy rotation of his divisive 1997 drum and bass album Earthling, which is actually one of my favourite albums by Bowie and one he heavily dipped into in his outstanding Glastonbury 2000 set, which I was privileged enough to be at. So, my mp3 player recently got into ‘Sports’ by Huey Lewis and the News, a band I actually saw live, at the then new and shiny SECC in Glasgow, when they toured the world in 1986 off the back of their smash hit ‘Power Of Love’ from the soundtrack to Back to the Future. They were ace. Their early work was a little too new wave for my taste. But when Sports came out in '83, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to Elvis Costello, but I think Huey has a far more bitter, cynical sense of humor.

 Anyway, emulators and emulation. Now, I must stress that anything written here regarding this subject is purely for informational and educational purposes. From the perspective of preservation and maintaining a historical archive of videogames and software for future reference, in the same way we value other forms of media as historically significant records representing the time and method of their creation, there is no question of the value of emulation. However there are clearly grey areas in legality when it comes to emulation of hardware and software which may or may not still be under copyright or otherwise still owned by someone somewhere. Nintendo clearly aren’t massive fans of emulation out in the wild, but it powers their Virtual Console offerings and all other legacy back catalogue titles, when you download Mario Kart 64 on the Switch there’s just an official Nintendo emulator turning the Switch into the Nintendo 64 and running the original cartridge. Same with the PS1 classics on PS3 and PS4, and Xbox Classics on the Xbox consoles.

 As you can probably imagine, turning one type of machine into another and getting it to work as it should is an enormously complicated programming task, and emulators were always quite frankly a bastard to set up in the past, but I don’t see the point in continuing with big debates about the legality of the whole situation with emulating old games consoles when it’s now legitimately as easy for someone with no technical skills whatsoever as going on Amazon, or even better AliExpress, and just ordering a generic box for about 30 quid up that’s already set up to run emulators emulating thousands of games from yesterday, which are already installed, including all of those Nintendo classics that provoke legal action, and simply plugging it in to the TV when it arrives. We’re going to have to just assume that the manufacturer of said box has negotiated correctly the rights for the 4000+ roms which are pre-installed. Or has the ship already sailed here perhaps.

 Also, ordering one of those pre-built boxes would give you a shit experience, and is giving money for nothing to criminals. If this is something that does interest you, you’d be far better repurposing old tech you may have sitting around and make your own, and learning the basics of how to set things ups and troubleshoot it yourself. Surprisingly, that shady old laptop or mobile phone you have sitting in a cupboard or drawer could easily be turned into a retro games console simply by downloading the right app, such as the popular (and free) RetroArch, or better yet by instead changing the operating system from what is likely an out of date version of Windows, Android or IOS, to a free Linux-based operating system called Batocera Linux, which, when set up, provides a way to emulate many different older systems and run their software whilst removing a huge amount of the headaches involved. It can be installed as the main operating system on a device or onto a bootable usb memory stick or drive, making it portable.

​Batocera supports a wide variety of different systems and consoles: it has built in RetroArch and Steam support; provides alternative emulators for many systems to provide options for different powered base hardware; and is pre-calibrated for a wide variety of input devices out the box for these emulators, including standard Xbox, Switch Pro and PlayStation controllers, Steering Wheels, USB Dance controllers, several of the new type Light Guns which can be used on modern TVs such as those made by Sinden – you can even use original Wii Remote controllers as Gun Controllers for classic target shooting action. It includes freeware or shareware examples of games with an easy option to download several more, including an entertaining C64 version of Fix It Felix, the fictional game in which Wreck-It Ralph is the villain; a remake of classic 1 on 1 sword fighting game Barbarian for Sega Megadrive; the original shareware version of Doom; and an absolutely storming fan-made He Man and the Masters of the Universe side-scrolling beat-em up. The system can be personalised with a number of downloadable themes and the interface provides easy access to options if required. It is pretty versatile for its use purpose and has been used to build various arcade cabinets, pinball tables or even a versatile living room media hub as the Kodi media player is also included. I’ve just genuinely found it to be pretty decent all round at getting the job done without much in the way of issues, I can fanny about with it and customise stuff as much as I like, and there’s a decent and helpful online community surrounding it.

Whilst I have experimented with other Linux-emulation distros with varying degrees of success, from my perspective for those reasons Batocera provides arguably the best all-round solution for this at the moment. Pretty much everything is set up for you already once it is installed, and whilst some of the more obscure systems might require a little tech skill and internet searches to set up correctly, for most of the popular systems all that remains for you to do is to ensure that games in the correct file format are in the correct directories and that the corresponding system files required for that system, are in the correct directories. Obtaining those files is up to you as that’s where there is a lot of grey area or outright no no’s legally and it is up to you to ensure you are complying with the law in your territory, and I am not suggesting or condoning any type of behaviour that may get you into trouble with His Majesty’s Constabulary; The Fuzz; The Po-po; The Pigs; The Rozzers; The Filth; The Five-O; The Law; The Heat; The Boys (and Girls) in Blue; The Feds; The Gestapo; The Old Bill; Smokey; Babylon; La Chota; Nintendo; or The United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

I am not going to provide any specific information about it, if you are reading this blog thing then you are on the interwebs and can easily find all the info yourself on how to do this yourself by going to Google or any of the other less intrusive search engine options, and there are plenty of sources for the information, not least the official site for the Batocera operating system itself, and the ever-helpful repository of everything, the Internet Archive and Wayback Machine, where you can find all sorts of interesting stuff available if you search. It’s a rabbit hole but a fun one

Back to Xmas at my sibling’s place then. I got a mini pc off EBay for a tenner and stuck Batocera on an old 500 GB hard drive I had kicking about, set it up. Bluetooth dongle and usb Wii bar off AliExpress for a couple of quid. A couple of cheapo Bluetooth switch controllers, and a cheapo wireless keyboard and mouse off Amazon. Bishi Bashi Boshi – established cool Uncle status by bringing the kids a home-made games console.

Given the numerous and much flashier looking modern alternatives on offer via tablet and phone, it was a delight to watch an 11 year old with no previous controller experience work out how to play the now 30 year old PS1 Tekken 2 properly before their non-game playing dad did, then proceed to beat the absolute ever-loving shit out of him and all-comers after repeatedly on-screen, round after round, much to both theirs and everyone else’s entertainment. The Tekken session was followed by my being pestered to pick a game for them due to the overwhelming choice on offer and choosing another PlayStation 1 classic which went down a storm, Bishi Bashi Special, a compilation of the first two Bishi Bashi titles from Japan which was released in Europe in the year 2000, and consists of a series of competitive minigames which can be played by up to 8 players. Lots of screaming and hilarity. Later, I walked in on a co-operative session of Secret of Monkey Island with the kids helping each other and knew my job was done.

Then they broke the thing by deleting a file accidentally as I hadn’t locked the menus down properly, and Xmas was ruined.

See you in March!   

Oswald Spengler (1880–1936)

Last month saw the first anniversary of Donald Trump’s second presidential term in the USA, and as that nation is still the most powerful country in the world, it is therefore fitting that this month’s influencer is the German philosopher of history Oswald Spengler (1880–1936) and in particular his magnum opus Der Untergang des Abendlandes, or as it is known in English,  The Decline of the West (1918).

Spengler's philosophy of history was based on two main assumptions, firstly that cultures are the basic units of history, not epochs or periods (i.e. ‘classical, medieval and modern’ etc), and secondly that cultures are like living organisms, they grow with predictable life cycles of birth, growth, maturity, and death.   

"Cultures are organisms, and world-history is their collective biography”

Spengler believed that cultures are not linear, but cyclical. They grow, they mature, and eventually die, with the whole process typically lasting about 1,000 years or so.

Spengler was not a Eurocentric thinker, something that was contrary to the intellectual trends of his lifetime in Europe and especially in Germany, he rejected ideas of racial supremacy that were then popular and did not regard Western culture as being exceptional relative to other cultures, something that gives his work a contemporary relevance.  Long before the so-called era of “wokeness” Spengler had renounced Western claims to both universality and supremacy.  Spengler identified eight Hochkulturen (high cultures) that have existed:

Babylonian: The Mesopotamian civilization.

Egyptian: Characterized as a "culture of the road".

Chinese: Viewed as a long-lasting, distinct, and highly ordered civilization.

Indian: Focused on a unique, spiritual worldview.

Mesoamerican (Mayan/Aztec): Identified as a distinct culture, notably separate from the Old World.

Classical ("Apollonian"): Greek and Roman antiquity, prioritizing the "now" and the physical body.

Arabian ("Magian"): Encompasses the Middle East, early Christianity, and Islam, sharing a "magical" worldview.

Western ("Faustian"): The modern European-American culture, defined by infinite striving, technology, and individualism.

Spengler used “Faustian”  to describe the soul of Western civilization, something that is defined by an insatiable, restless striving for infinite space, knowledge, and power, that began around the 10th century and is an expansionary force that seeks to overcome all limits, ultimately leading to a "machine-like" civilization.  How would the West today function without technology? In the "Faustian bargain" Western man gains power over nature through technology but becomes dependent on it.  Elon Musk’s desire to colonise Mars (The Faustian individual “strives to direct the world according to his will”, a very Nietzschean idea) and the Breakthrough Starshot Initiative with its idea of using lasers to propel miniature space probes attached to "lightsails" to reach ultrafast speeds and eventually our nearest star system, Alpha Centauri are examples of the Faustian spirit, but also things that have actually been achieved such as nuclear power (weapons included), the moon landings, and the Large Hadron Collider in Bern, which after spending billions of Euros was able to confirm that the hypothetical Higgs boson was in fact real. 

Spengler argued that the Faustian spirit is inherently tragic, driven to conquer, yet fated to exhaust itself. An example of this Faustian spirit is the philosophy of Transhumanism that advocates for the technological enhancement of human physical and cognitive capabilities through genetic engineering, AI, and cybernetics, to overcome physical limitations like disease, aging, and death. It seeks to evolve humanity into "posthuman" beings with vastly superior intelligence and greatly extended lifespans.  Enthusiasm for this philosophy is mainly to be found in the American Tech sector. 

Spengler applied the seasonal system of spring, summer, autumn and winter to the evolution of cultures.  

Spring (Awakening): A period of birth, religious awakening, and raw, powerful creative expression where the culture's soul is formed. 

Summer (Maturity/Growth): A stage of intellectual growth, blossoming artistic production, and the definition of a culture's unique identity. 

Autumn (Fruition/Harvest): The cultural soul achieves its highest intellectual fulfilment but begins to turn toward sophistication and abstraction, marking the end of its most creative period. 

Winter (Decline/Civilization): The final, "petrified" stage where culture matures into civilization. It is characterized by massive world cities, intense cosmopolitanism, sterile intellect, and the loss of original, creative energy. Spengler argued that Western civilization had entered its winter phase.

So why is Trump’s presidency relevant?  Spengler predicted that Western civilization, having entered its "winter" phase, would undergo a 200-yearlong era of "Caesarism" starting around the beginning of the 21st century which he defined as the triumph of personal, authoritarian, and military power over money-driven democracy. This era marks the final stage of civilization, replacing democratic formlessness with raw, dictatorial "will-to-order". 

The era of, “Caesarism” is another manifestation of decline, as authority becomes increasingly concentrated in the hand of one person and the modern institutions of the state begin to disintegrate. In Trump’s first year of his second presidency, he has acted more like a king than a president, he disregards congress who can’t, or often won’t curtail him. 

Masked ICE agents shoot dead American citizens with no legal consequences, and the treatment of immigrants (legal or illegal) is similar to what once happened in the Soviet Union and South American dictatorships. Trump admires dictators like Putin and Kim Jong Un, he tried to steal an election that he lost, and might try to stay in power for the rest of his life.  He openly talks about annexing Canada as the 51st state and of seizing Greenland from a European ally, something that could end NATO and with it the post war consensus.  

The Trump presidency fits with Spengler’s prediction that Western civilization in its final phase would transition from democracy to "Caesarism" around the 21st century. Caesarism is the final, inevitable political form that attempts to restore stability to a decaying civilization (MAGA - Make America Great Again) and represents the terminal, authoritarian phase where political power is concentrated in the hands of individuals, replacing the "dictatorship of money" with a "will-to-order". Trump’s reckless use of tariffs is an attempt to counter the growing power of the BRICS economies with the relative decline of the G7 economies and has been entirely ineffectual.

According to Spengler the West would experience 200 years of "Caesarism"—an era of authoritarian rule and imperialism, so it is still early days and will be ongoing long after Trump has gone, but Trump is a symptom of Western decline not the cause of it.  Spengler did not predict a sudden end, but a long, inevitable descent, which he called a "Twilight of the Gods," following the peak of Western power. 

Oswald Arnold Gottfried Spengler was born on 29 May 1880 in the Duchy of Brunswick, at school he excelled in Classics, Mathematics and the Sciences, and later attended the universities of Munich, Berlin and Halle. After completing his Doctorate (at the second attempt) in 1904 he had an uneventful life as a school teacher until 1910 when following his mother’s death he was able to retire and live off his modest inheritance as a private scholar, although never well off and he was occasionally obliged to work as a tutor to supplement his income.  He began writing The Decline of the West in 1911.  It was published in 1918 with great success in both Germany and the rest of Europe, making Spengler a prominent intellectual for the last decades of his life; he died in 1936 at the age of 55 of a heart attack in Munich.

It cannot be said that The Decline of the West is an optimistic book, its prognosis is gloomy, nevertheless it can help us make sense of history and the turbulence of our current era such as why Trump and so many other malignant narcissists are dominating the political and cultural spheres. Spengler believed that despite the onset of winter, we should still make the best use of the time that we are given, and his work contains immense wisdom that can help us to do that, and it encourages us to confront our reality.  I will end with a quote from the man himself:

“Time does not suffer itself to be halted; there is no question of prudent retreat or wise renunciation. Only dreamers believe that there is a way out. Optimism is cowardice. We are born into this time and must bravely follow the path to the destined end. There is no other way. Our duty is to hold on to the lost position, without hope, without rescue, like that Roman soldier whose bones were found in front of a door in Pompeii, who, during the eruption of Vesuvius, died at his post because they forgot to relieve him. That is greatness. That is what it means to be a thoroughbred. The honourable end is the one thing that can not be taken from a man."

Sonia Cheng  dog Hoi Sum

​Her name is Hoi Sum (happy in Cantonese).

 We got her about 8 years ago when she was a little puppy. 

She loves swimming and her fave food is fish. 

 She can't stand peanut butter and cucumber. 

​Likes: Treats, swimming and chasing the twins 

Dislikes: Cucumber, peanut butter and most other dogs

​Dear Cosmic Cathy, we are a month into 2026 and I still have no idea what to do with myself. I feel stuck in a rut and all I know is I want to be happier in a year than I am now. What should I do? Stuck-in-a-Rut, Skye. 

Dear Stuck-in-a-Rut, Happy New Year - no it isn’t too late to say that, because January doesn’t count anyway! The card I have for you is the Queen of Pentacles, a beautiful card that predicts the future is bright and comfortable. However she tells me that you’ve been trying to do the right thing even though it isn’t what is in your heart and this is why you’re floundering. I suspect that just means you’ve fallen for the dry-January hype and by the time you read this your sorrows will have been replaced with hangovers, but if it is deeper just follow your heart, go against the grain and by the end of this year you may even have started a new trend. 

Dear Cosmic Cathy, How do I stop caring and overthinking. I send texts and WhatsApp messages to friends and they don’t reply, sometimes for weeks and it’s driving me mad! I keep thinking if there’s anything I've done to annoy them until they finally reply saying they were just busy. My question is how do I stop caring so much. I always reply to all texts in minutes or seconds! It’s really bringing me down. 

Anon, Somewhere in Scotland. 

Dear Anon, I am truly sorry it took me so long to respond to your message, I wanted to but because I value you and don’t want to give you a half-arsed response, I was waiting until I had time to devote myself fully to your reply… and how time runs away with us! However, now I fully have the time to respond, I have drawn The Page of Swords in the reversed position, interestingly she is a collector of messages and in this position reminds us that we should not try to guess what other people are thinking. She tells you to look inward when you start wondering what you’ve done wrong, to stop guessing your friends’ feelings (when you know fine well they were going to respond and then got distracted) and be objective. The Page upright is all about acting immediately, your card however was reversed, which means you’ve been acting too hastily, you are allowed to turn your phone to silent and ignore your texts from time to time, that phone doesn’t own you. Remember Anon, people love a good moan, if you did something wrong, they’d be sure to tell you. It is very likely your friends see you as a lovely little reward, I’ll text Anon back when I have done this chore so I can spend a lovely ten minutes chatting to them... Oh my, is that the time already!

Please send in your problems, big or small for next month’s Cosmic Cathy column. 

Disclaimer: Cosmic Cathy can only take credit for positives that come from your reading, she cannot be implemented in personal catastrophes, court cases or your divorce.