July 2025

Featured- Tei Boyd

My first words were “How do.” I like to think that was short for, “How do you make it as a performer?” I’m still figuring that part out  but there’s one incredibly important thing that stand-up has taught me. I’ll get to it, but first, a bit of backstory.

I grew up mixed race and undiagnosed neurodivergent in Castlemilk, Glasgow. To blend in, I was always performing. Masking ADHD and hiding queerness made acting feel natural to me — it felt like survival.

At 13, I went through the rite of passage for Scottish actors: I landed a wee part on our nationally beloved and ever-mocked soap, River City. I got to skip school and go on set. For an ADHD kid who clashed with teachers, it was salvation. It filled the internal gaps left by growing up disconnected from my family and from myself. I was “the wee guy from River City”  and that helped hide my lack of confidence, for a while.

But at 17, I got let go. Suddenly, I was just another young person in Glasgow, trying to figure out who I was without the one thing I thought defined me.

I drifted for a few years — normal jobs, normal routines — and felt myself slowly going mad. I needed something. An outlet. I had ideas, questions, jokes. And no one applauds when you pour them a pint in Wetherspoons. Only when you drop one.

Then came comedy.

My pal Aaron, who’d started stand-up (from his wheelchair), invited me to a charity gig at DRAM! in the West End. I wrote five minutes, put on a leather jacket to look like a tiny, light-skinned Eddie Murphy, and gave it a go. I brought pals for support — and I got laughs. Actual laughs. Not huge, but enough.

I’ll never forget lovely Ronnie Black standing up and clapping at the end. That moment gave me just enough belief in myself to try it again. I only meant to do it once. But that’s the thing about comedy — it gets you. And complete strangers can end up changing your life in quiet, ridiculous ways.

Then came gig number two. Wild Cabaret. I was on a bill with the late, truly great Janey Godley. And it was a disaster. I bombed. Froze. Got stage fright. Opened a notebook and started flipping for a joke. Four minutes in, I said, “Let me just leaf through for something,” and Janey cut in: “Orrrrr, you’re done.” I dropped a page as I walked offstage and Janey picked it up  “There’s your P45, son.” The crowd laughed for the first time in almost five minutes.

Oh, it hurt. It hurt lots.

Bombing on stage is as bad as you think. And if you know, you know. I swore I’d never do comedy again — and I didn’t… for a few weeks.

Being an neurodivergent performer (same, same) means that on a good night, we can channel chaos into lightning. We can shock, entertain, put wee sparks in the audience’s eyes. But it also means we feel everything deeper. Dying on stage doesn’t just bruise the ego — it burns through the soul. My rejection sensitivity would flare up. Bad gigs haunted me for months. It was hard to take. 

After a rough stretch, I stopped entirely. Just before lockdown, I tried one Zoom gig. Performing to a selfie stick in my bedroom, waiting for delayed laughter coming in waves like Ave Maria, was abysmal. Comedy dies when it’s not live. So I quit (again).

But I couldn’t stay away.

I once told a comedian, “Rob, I just can’t stop doing this. I’ve tried and tried and I keep coming back — why?” He lifted his pint and said, “Ach, hard game to quit.” That was it. But he was right.

For all the pain, the shit gigs, the flops — comedy is beautiful. It’s kept me going.

Some nights, it feels like magic. In Liverpool once, I entered a flow state. No nerves. No rehearsed bits. Just freedom to be truly alive on stage, and audience that felt it. I felt like a true comic. It was magic. It doesn’t happen all the time  but when it does, it’s some dunt. You can’t force it. It only happens when the stars align.

Other nights? I’ve bombed in front of 500 people in a theatre. I’ve spent years hosting party bingo in pubs, wrangling seven hen dos and two stag parties. That taught me what comedy isn’t ...and how sacred stand-up really is. It has a heart. Always. Even when the gig’s shite. It has a soul.

The hardest things in my life — my ADHD, my ethnicity, family disconnection, gender dysphoria — are all things I’ve processed and worked through on stage. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have figured any of it out otherwise. Stand-up is strange, painful, and brilliant. It’s given me a mirror — and an audience to hold it. And it's cheaper than therapy.

So what’s the one thing I’ve learned?

Do it once — then keep fucking going. 

I’ve seen generational talents quit and disappear. Equally, I’ve seen acts I used to dread sharing a bill with ( because I’d have to sit through an awkward five minutes ) find their voice and become truly hilarious. Just because they kept going.

Mentors like Stu Who? helped me through the lows, the wins, the dread, the crises of confidence, the leather jackets, the ripped-up notebooks, the tears. Stand-up has shaped me. It’s helped me unmask, explore my identity, and learn how to be honest in front of people.

Comedy didn’t just give me a career. It gave me a self. I cannot imagine a world where I didn’t stand up that first time.

To anyone thinking about trying it: do it. Have you ever held a five-minute conversation? Then you can do stand-up. Even if you’re terrible at first. Anyone can do it. The only thing stopping you is the belief that you can’t. If you want to get good, be crap — then just don’t stop.

I love stand-up. I love comedians. I love the stories, the craft, the nerves, the weird green rooms, the improvised bits, the silent car rides home, the tiny clicks when something lands. From the best to the worst, I’m thankful for every gig, every audience member that let me stand in front of them  and especially for the comedians there by the side of the stage, ready for me to ask:

How (did I) do?

Interview- Raymond Mearns 

Is Raymond an egotistical arsehole? I can say he isn’t, but that’s his own blunt conclusion for not being “more successful” than he is. That and being a lazy c**t…but with his huge stage presence (not his size), his ability to do solo shows with different improvised material every night, his talent in working a room to hysterics, his skill as an MC, Raymond is a master of the comedy craft, and he is just plain funny.

Kavita and I met Raymond in Blackfriars Bar and he was up for a chat and some fun. I found him open, funny, gave tips for comedy success and despite hating c***s, very generous with his time with us. In this edition of the Snigger Magazine, we are running Raymond's interview over two issues (July and August) because he covered so much more than we can fit on one page.

Raymond Mearns (57) is a born and bred Glaswegian. He lives in Lanarkshire Glasgow with his lovely second wife, Anne, whom I have met a couple of times. He has a degree in business, a grown-up family of two children, and a whopping 31-year long comedy career. Raymond describes himself as a failed actor and musician.

Not everyone’s cup of tea

Being a failed actor and musician has boded him well for comedy. He started out playing guitar in clubs then adding bits of chat to the sets. Then as that grew into more comedy, ditched the guitar and took up the mic. Raymond connects with the audience by being authentic and telling the truth but he reflects that what he says on stage can sometimes be not everybody’s cup of tea. But his comedy is his cup of tea, - it’s him. His mindset, psychology or psyche, persona or character whatever it is he is on stage does connect.

He thinks he has never been very good at telling people what they want to hear because at his admission he doesn’t know what people want to hear. He says he is and always has been selfish, a loner, self-centred and does what suits him, so if he doesn’t want to do something his direct answer is “fk off”. He has also said that to audience members who may not have liked his cup of tea and tried to tell him so– fk off. Whether it is an affectation or not, audiences will still flock to see him., so it works for him

I don’t think you can learn how to be a comedian like Raymond because of his authenticity, unless you are a clone, but you can learn from him how to make a room work, so go see what he does and how he does it and learn.

Big Break

Raymond would say his break came when, after only having one venue in Edinburgh, The Stand opened its venue in Glasgow - and they needed Glaswegian acts. And with The Stand needing to embed itself with authentic, brilliant local talent there was only one person to fill the shoes. Tommy Sheppard (the owner of The Stand) asked Raymond and the rest is history.

Catch up with Raymond again in our next edition to find out his tips for comedy success, who he finds funny, more about authenticity and why he loves a sunset.

My Comedy Journey 

By Alan Jay​

“I could never do that!”

​It’s a line I’ve heard many-a-time from people who haven’t tried stand-up. Getting on a stage, in front of a room full of strangers, feeling them stare as they hang off your every word, with you knowing that that they’ll instantly spot even the slightest fumble. The very idea can induce a sense of terror in even the hardiest of people. I’ve met filmmakers, musicians, NHS workers, people from a plethora of difficult careers who are in awe of the bravery it takes to do stand-up. “Fearless” is a word I’ve heard used to describe us a lot, but little do people know, this could not be further from the truth for most comedians.

It took me a long time to try stand-up, it was never something that crossed my mind, yet the thing I have always loved most was people laugh. “You should try stand-up, Alan!” my friends would always say to me, and I would always dismiss it. One night, some friends and I were watching 'The Matrix' and, as we were watching Neo hack the mainframe, I turned to my friend and said "Hacker? Mate, I barely know 'er!" The room erupted with laughter, even from my friend Dan’s ex, Claudie, who was German.

Initially, I was apprehensive about starting as I didn't want to be someone who got up on stage and embarrassed themselves, obviously being someone who thought they were the next Kevin Bridges because their friends told them they were hilarious. I did, however, think about it, and decide that potentially dying on my arse in front of a bunch of strangers at 30-years-old was preferable to reaching my 50s and having a mental break which caused me to make horrible TikToks, moan about pronouns, and run shite gigs in a place like Largs.

Every six months the sign-ups for 'Red Raw' would open and I would get cold feet. “I’ll do it next time”, I said in 2019. But there wouldn’t be a “next time” for over two years. That’s the lifespan of an entire hamster. 2022 came and I finally did it! I signed up for 'Red Raw', The Stand’s newcomer comedy night, and got a date for that December.

Many nights I stayed up, hastily scribbling my best material. “Stevie Nicks? Better keep your eyes on your stuff then!” and other amazing jokes that got me where I am today; a council flat in Ibrox. The day finally comes. Three hours sleep, I haven’t eaten, I’m dreading it. What if it all goes wrong? What if I humiliate myself in front of 150 people? What if…

I get an email from The Stand. “The gig has been cancelled”, they say. “Why? Did it offend the PC brigade, haha?” I respond, unable to turn off my newfound comedic charm. “A flood”, was their answer. I’m equally thrilled and devastated. All the work of the past week has lead to nothing, but I know I can only get stronger. I go home, and I work on my material. I find out about a gig in the Park Bar, five minutes from my house, run by It Charles. He offers me a gig in the second week of January. “We’re back”, I say.

The day comes. I go over my material endlessly in my bedroom until it’s time to leave. I get to the gig, the upstairs looks like a waiting room to the afterlife, but downstairs… downstairs, we found life. I’m on in the third section. I see several comedians I currently don’t know smash it. Little did I know these amateur comics would go on to become friends, rivals, and even lovers. My turn comes.

“Please welcome to the stage… Alan Jay!”

That was it. That was the moment I shed my dirty, non-comedian wings, and Alan Jay the comedian was born, although disappointingly still a bit fat.

Since then, I blinked, and for the past two and a half years, comedy has been my life. It hasn’t been as easy road. Much like yer Da when he’s hitting me up on Grindr at 1am, it’s hard. Harder than anything I’ve done, but, much like yer Da, it is an obstacle I intend to overcome, sit on, and dominate.

I haven’t always been such a fighter though, I’ve had my downs, and I couldn’t have gotten back up alone. Thanks to comedy, I have met some of the best people in my life, wise beyond their years and with sage advice I carry to this day. When I felt like I had become a bit lost and directionless, I turned to a more experienced comedian for help; my good friend Sylas Szleshkzbokozv Shaw. He told me that, where he’s from, they have a saying; “țâțe gotice grase”, which means “to explore every path.” One cannot box themselves in, if one finds themselves lost, it’s okay to go back, and go down another path.

One day, after a string of pretty rough gigs, I wanted to give up. “These people don’t get me”, I tell fellow comedianess Kat Powell, who looked deep into my soul and said; "Alan, look - a good comedian is like a tampon. You can be the best at what you do, but if someone puts you in the wrong venue, it'll be nothing but shit. That doesn't make you a bad tampon."

At another gig, a man advised me "y'know, one fing you've got to keep in mind is that you ain't gonna be for everybody, right? Like, the important fing is that you find your own niche, and make sure that yo-" before cutting himself off, realising we had gone slightly over our allotted meeting time, and shining a light into my eyes. I got what he meant though; I’m a bad boy. I do shock comedy, and instead of feeling bad when people don’t get that, I have to own it.

The truth is, I've never been afraid of shocking people with my jokes. Growing up I watched lot of 'Family Guy' and 'Marvel' movies, which were big influences for my dark and sarcastic humour. One day I was watching a 9/11 documentary with some college mates and, when I saw the guy jump from the tower, turned to my pal and said "huh, looks like he took the fast way down." It split the room, but I didn't care. If they want to live their lives being offended, so be it.

One thing about being a queer comedian is you often doubt yourself and struggle with imposter syndrome, but the more queers I met, the more I realised I wasn't alone. I remember 'The Glasgow Kid' telling me "Alan, I've been called a box ticker and you know what? It's all bullshit. The only box you gotta tick in this industry is being a fucking badass. You kick those boxes in the dick and keep killing it!" And kill it I will.

Alan Jay xoxo

Let’s Talk Pish

As a gay man hurtling towards fifty quicker than a menopausal woman's short temper, I find myself getting more and more annoyed at the little things in life. Let’s talk about teenagers… I don’t mean the random ones asking you to buy vapes at the shops, but the actual crotch gremlins you’ve created yourself.

Now I’m not that old that I don’t remember my teenage years and I’m sure my parents had a gripe or two about my behaviour, but I’m certain my hygiene was nowhere near the epic scale of my eighteen year old boy.  We all remember fondly that discovery that an erection was not just for pissing over high walls and I’m sure my Mum had to chap on the sheets to wake me up on more than one occasion.  However… Recently the absolute filth I’ve discovered in my boy’s room has even taken me aback.

I’m sure he has been watching some DIY programs and has decided that his room is now to be known as “Trainspotting Heroin Chic” The complete car crash I walked into had me holding my breath, the overwhelming smell of teenage sweat and desperation was enough to make my eyes water.  On further inspection there were bags filled to overflowing with rubbish, crisp packets, sweet wrappers, and takeaways in various states of decay.  Even the flies had decided to pack their bags and move out, they weren’t willing to take refuge in the hovel of hell created by my offspring.

As many of you will be aware, the art of disciplining teenagers has taken a turn, as grounding them is like a reward because none of the little blighters ever go anywhere.  They all have unlimited data so turning off the wifi has no effect.  My discipline measure was to ban his girlfriend on the grounds that environmental health had condemned his bedroom, and Donald Trump had been phoning asking if any of the takeaway remnants could be used as nuclear weapons on Iran.  This measure didn’t work but after two full days of not getting his hole, the boy sprung into action.  Room cleared of debris, clothes moved into different piles because obviously a wardrobe and chest of drawers is nowhere big enough to store all the socks, pants and jogging bottoms that usually live on the floor, unable to decide if they are dirty or clean.  I added in a further measure that the front garden could do with weeding which was met with the same reaction as if he had been called up for National Service.

Environmental Health has given him a one star rating, so we have some semblance of hygiene back in the house, however I have decided not to push the disciplinary measures.  I have something else in mind.

The minute he gets his own home I’m going to visit.  I am going to shower using every clean towel he has in the house.  My dirty clothes and pants shall be strewn with careless abandon from the bathroom to the bottom of the stairs, where they shall remain with the wet towels.  I shall fill my bladder to explosion levels, then happily do the helicopter whilst peeing in his bathroom ensuring no nook or cranny is missed.  I shall haphazardly try to clear my mess using clean towels and his most expensive shampoo and conditioner as it will be the closest to hand.

Following the utter destruction of his bathroom I will move on to the kitchen where I will use every pot, plate and utensil available to man to make a “snack” that I will duly wipe over the worksurfaces before spilling on the floor and walking through ensuring it makes it to the living room carpet.  I will however have a doggy bag of dishes that I will keep for three weeks fermenting in their own filth, and not until they are suitably crusted and smelling like a sewage plant will I return them to be flung in the sink without a care in the world.

Then I will turn round to my son and ask, “What’s for dinner?”

A Day in the Life

Karan Bopal ​

I wake in the morning glad not like P-Diddy.

I thank whoever you pray to, God, Aliens …… etc. that I am here to slog through another day in this vortex of chaos that we call life.  Sounds like the start of Prince’s “Let’s go Crazy”.

I get out of bed with some enthusiasm whilst groaning as my body is not the temple it used to be.  I go to the ensuite (yes, I am that posh even in the East End of Glasvegas) and do my morning constitutional; whilst moaning that young people are always on their phones, whilst I am sitting on my phone on my throne. I check my emails from my agent and refuse all the filming, acting, voiceover, modelling jobs as I can’t manage them at the moment and do a full time job.

I brush my teeth and go for my shower; I have my Uniform ready to put on for my work.  I dream of winning the lottery more than I think about sex, Lamborghinis, Formula 1 and Versace now!! I am so jealous of the people in my village whom are walking their dogs and going to the local shop; that I can see from my bedroom window as they are lucky retired bastards and I have to go to smelly work.  I go down to see my Parents, whom I reside with.  Father is usually watching Cheers and knows every word of the script, Mum is making my sandwiches for my work-Yes you read that right.  I am a lucky guy coming from a typical/Not typical Indian Sikh family.  I have breakfast(cup of cha and cereal) then grab my fresh lunch, make my bed, grab my jacket, open the gates & garage then drive my immaculate car to work moaning in my head that I wish I was retired or a lottery winner; so I would not have to this morning commute every day hating people, traffic worrying about my car being parked where I can’t see it.  I worry about these things you see especially when my cars are usually in heated, secure garages sleeping!! Cue my OCD for cleaning.

I get to work in a surgical cancer ward at a very famous NHS Glasgow hospital and douse myself in aftershave then paint my smile on and deal with the public who are “soles of arse”.  My ward has 6 bed male, female and single rooms for 36 patients.  The noise of the machines keeping people alive and phones, general hustle and bustle endure.  I walk into the ladies’ room, average age 70 and say “morning girls”.  Oh son I have not been called a girl since the war. I use humour a lot in my job and life to get me through the day.  It is a mask that I have to wear to keep people away from my personal space.  These people will gossip and make stuff about me anyway.  They don’t know me, I have had it my whole life. Although people think they know you, no one really gets to know the real me. I am happy when cleaning and being immaculate, in body, in my home or car.  That’s me in a nutshell. I have been surrounding by anger my whole life from society and the older I get I realise it stems from jealously and lack of ambition on other’s-not from me.  We can’t all be 6 foot 5 Versace clad wearing models, I get told. The dichotomy of this is so ironic in my daily life. I am happy for people-honestly I wish them no ill.

I finish my shift and contemplate on all aspects of micro racism that I have experienced in my NHS role then drive to the gym or go for a swim, wishing I won the lottery so I could swim every morning when it was quiet and I did not have to go to smelly work. i.e. to be like those people I see when I am getting dressed out of my window who are retired. Do I wish my life away all the time, no.  I am very grateful for the engineering/Project manager career I had before I smashed my spine. I do have 2 degrees and a Masters I’ll have you know as well as nice eyebrows and teeth.

I get home and have dinner with my folks and make my phone calls and generally clean.  Weekend comes and I clean, garden, see family and friends and clean some more.  PS all I do is clean due to my OCD and have triggers for the abuse that I faced growing up in the East End of Glasveages.  My escape from this is when I became a diversification model being the tallest Indian model in the country at 6 foot 5.  Not bad for a guy who has been labelled ugly throughout his whole life by society and put down daily. This escape happens when I am on movie sets with the lovely Kavita whom I relate with as she shares the same enthusiasm for doing something different whereby you can be someone.

Is this really the person you are or do we have to hide throughout the daily ritual of eat, work, sleep repeat, Who knows? Life is a quandary at time to contemplate.  I listen to music, watch films, dream of going into space and clean my cars daily.  Life is what you make it.  I overcompensate that one day my Mum or Dad won’t be here, so this is why I decided to stay at home as I don’t want to have regrets by saying to myself, “I wish I spent more time with them.” Remember where I work, I hear this daily from family members who have loved ones in the hospital bed, who always say I wish, I wish, I wish. I lost so many family members and I miss them all.  We are a big Indian family who all get on, who own 7 beautiful homes next to door to each other in a private street.  Hence the upkeep and I am always cleaning etc. I am known for hoovering my Avenue and yes you read that right after brushing it.  I even clean outside the church next door.  I don’t have to, I choose to.  It’s all about the red pill and the blue pill (huge Matrix fan as well as all movies),  Back to escapism again from the mundane life we all lead. It’s your choices to do what you want to do.

I was never an Angel growing up, I try make amends by living a good life, being nice to everyone I see, I do not carry hate in my soul, I always indicate in my car, even if there is no one around and if I don’t- I think something bad will happen. I do good and I live my life by the moral compass of Atonement and Karma.  If there is something that people would say what is Big K like, they would say he picks up nails and screws every day from the street.  He can’t walk past them.  That is me saving you from a puncture whereby you could be needing your car to get to the hospital to say good bye to a loved one.  Now I hope you see how my brain works.  I do little things to help others and that is what I love.  It is the little things that make the biggest difference, We should all live a selfless life and respect and love what we have now, not tomorrow, not yesterday but now.

So what is like to be me in my daily life, It is as good as being you and it is as bad as being you.

We are all brothers and sisters on this 3rd rock so let’s get through this thing we call life!

On The Road with John Wallace

The Realities of Stand-Up on The Road

​Although I’m still very new to stand-up — with only around a dozen gigs under my belt — I’ve had a handful of experiences performing outside of Glasgow in places like Falkirk, Paisley, and Hamilton. These weren’t exactly bold leaps across the comedy map, but each one offered something different and valuable.

My first time at the Falkirk Comedy Club in Falkirk was a quiet night clashing with a Champions League match — I think Celtic were playing Juventus — so only five or six people turned up. Still, it was a great space with an elevated stage and a mix of newcomers and seasoned pros trying new material. The stage is like a boxing ring, with ropes around it, so I made my entrance to the Rocky theme tune, and then told some jokes and sang my silly little song.  

Returning later to a fuller room made it even more enjoyable. I also did a few sets at The JNKYRD  in Hamilton, which was in a conservatory at the back of the pub. It had a small supportive vibe, hosted by the very welcoming John Caruthers, perfect for cutting my teeth and getting comfortable on stage.

In Paisley, I have performed both at the Bungalow and Pockets, both very different experiences. The Bungalow gave me a real confidence boost one night with great audience feedback, only for me to return with very similar material at a gong show and be off in under five minutes — a humbling reminder of how unpredictable comedy can be.

Pockets was something else entirely: a dark, run-down room in a dilapidated snooker club, where the tables only have three legs 😊, performing in front of the young team tucking into their Chinese, no stage lights, and a mic that barely worked. And yet, it was still fun — just a bunch of us new comics trying stuff out, with one seasoned act to close.

I’m still figuring out my voice and material, hoping to develop a set I can take on the road. I’ve tended to ramble on for anything from 5 to 10 minutes and not repeat the same material – focussing on current affairs as a preference. The wrong thing for newcomers to do! With a few compilation spots lined up for the Fringe and ongoing work through Viv Gee’s Advanced course, I’m slowly building towards something more consistent.

Planet of the Apes   

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In past issues the influencers have been someone, whereas this is more abstract.  Planet of the Apes has two different incarnations, firstly as a novel, and secondly as a film, and the film incarnation has multiple sub versions, the original and highly influential 1968 film, the sequels to that and the reimagined 2001 version (a bit closer to the novel), and the more recent prequel films.​  The fact that the film versions are now in their 3rd incarnation is a testament to their enduring place in our cultural mythology. 

The phenomena Planet of the Apes started with Pierre Boulles 1963 novel ‘Monkey Planet’.

 The original novel from 1963 by Pierre Boulles was 'La Planète des singes' quite literally 'The (La) Planet (Planète) of the (des) Apes (singes)', although ‘singes’ can mean both ‘ape’ and ‘monkey’, but it was called Monkey Planet when it was translated into English and published in the UK.  The American translation was called 'Planet of the Apes', hence why the American film had that title. 

It could have been translated as Planet of the Monkeys, but I suppose that always ran the risk of making people think of this:

 Planet of the Apes has influenced me throughout my life and changed my outlook on life.  I have always felt a hatred towards animal cruelty and await the day animals take over!  There was something powerful in the image of humans treating primates the way primates were and are being treated by humans.   

There’s an undeniable degree of narcissism in the human thought process of dominant species and a strong tendency for humans to award the title to close relatives. The Planet of the Apes imagines that our closest primate relatives could develop speech and adopt our technology if we gave them the time and space to do so.  Charles Darwin's 1860 book 'On the Origin of Species' was a significant cultural influence on the art of the late 19th century and into the 20th century and 'Planet of the Apes' is part of this tradition as seeing humans not as divinely created but as part of nature whose place in the natural world could be usurped by another species.  

The reveal at the end of the original 1968 'Planet of the Apes' is one of those iconic shots from movie history, known and parodied the world over.

Rod Serling creator of the Twilight Zone penned the screenplay.  Charlton Heston played 20th-century American astronaut George Taylor, who travels to a strange planet where intelligent apes dominate mute, primitive humans. Kim Hunter and Roddy McDowall played the sympathetic chimpanzees Zira and Cornelius. 

The movie is number 3 in the greatest science fiction movies of all time and I agree because I genuinely love how it explores emotion and “humanity” in a being that isn’t human.

Some of the most classic lines are from this movie:

‘take your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!”

“A planet where apes evolved from men??  There’s got to be an answer.”

“human see, human do.”

​Alexander McNair's dog Major 

Hi everyone my name is Major and the other slightly less handsome boy is my brother Sirius I live with my Dad Alex McNair who  runs The Falkirk comedy club.

The big white guy was my Stepdad Smeeston who was the second biggest boxer on record. He had loads of patience with us two as we were quite the tear always when pups. 

Sirius lives with my Dads daughter and I live with two other old dogs Callie and Monroe as well as the monster. His name is Vincent Gambini He is a Jack Russell who thinks I am a chew toy and although he has tiny legs he can run fast to try catch me. I truly hate the little barsteward. I promised dad I wouldn’t swear on here but I truly hate that little fluff ball.

Dad is great and walks me loads but Bernie is my favourite she takes me up carron valley reservoir to swim and run on my own. I love to do both and never stop when out so that’s why my tongue is always out. My favourite thing in the world is swimming out to chase the ducks in the reservoir I swim all the way out to the middle before coming back. It did go horribly wrong once though when I swam out to get them once and instead of ducks flying off. It was a gaggle of passing geese. Suddenly I was getting chased. I think that guy Jesus must have been getting chased by geese to because I learned how to walk on water that day. My brother is a very bad influence on me because he taught me how to steal food from the work tops and mum bakes lots so cakes are often on the menu. 

I am very handsome as you can see in my modelling debut where we were advertising the Superpets movie for Falkirk Cinema. My dad is my agent if anyone needs  a tall dark handsome model.

GAMING BY Euan Scarlett

Welcome to the July edition of the Laughs of Us. I’d been playing French RPG “Clair Obscur: Expedition 33”, one of 2025’s breakout hits and well worth your time, but  I sacked it because I’d hit a brick wall with one of the bosses and just couldn’t be arsed getting killed repeatedly anymore just because I mis-timed one button press to parry or dodge during a 15 minute fight. Whilst I absolutely recommend the game as it was genuinely brilliant up to that point, and I will go back to it and own that bastard and proceed, it had started to become like Sekiro, the nails-hard ninja game from Dark Souls creators From Software, a game I was enjoying enormously until the left shoulder button on my Xbox controller, used for parrying in the game, gave up the ghost during a particularly fraught battle against geriatric ninja boss Lady Butterfly. Anyway, I’ve decorated this article with some screenshots what I took when getting to this Beardy Cunt below who I haven’t managed to twat yet.

​Like a lot of people, I played a lot of videogames during lockdown and one of my favourite gaming moments during those dark times was finally actually finishing Dark Souls, a game I’d originally pre-ordered on Xbox 360 after adoring Demon’s Souls on Playstation 3, another game I’ve actually never completed but probably will end up completing when I inevitably end up buying a PS5 and playing the remake or Sony release the fucking game on PC already. For the unenlightened, Dark Souls is the first in a trilogy of brutally challenging fantasy action RPGs which have the reputation, along with From’s other similar titles, of being amongst the most punishingly difficult but entirely fair games ever made. Whilst almost every enemy you encounter in the game from the very beginning can kill you, and the environment can also kill you, it’s usually your own fault, either for not paying attention or by being shit. Git Gud, as they say, a phrase they may as well have invented for From’s output of the last 15 years. That’s the thing that people like about these ultra-challenging games though. If you are patient and learn how the combat works for each game, and practice, you can Git Gud. In fact, you can git very gud indeed. There are numerous videos online of players battling through the game with characters wearing no armour and not levelling up; there’s people who’ve completed the game using all sorts of weird controllers – there’s even a guy with a Guinness World Record for finishing the game using everything from a steering wheel to Donkey Konga bongo drums and a dancemat. 

I’m generally a big fan of From’s output, and recently whilst beginning the hopeless task of organising and cataloguing my retro games collection I realised I had been a fan unknowingly for a couple of decades, and had enjoyed several of the company’s earlier titles without realising they were the Dark Souls guys. Which they weren’t at that earlier point in their illustrious history, if anything they were the Armored Core guys, the Mech-combat series they began in the 90s on PS1 and which they recently returned to with some success. Anyway, by the time From Software went stratospheric in 2011 and gave rise to the ‘Soulslike’ genre with Dark Souls, they’d been pumping out software for 25 years, starting off making business applications in 1986 before pivoting to video games in 1994. Their first game, “King’s Field”, for the original Playstation, coming out a mere 13 days after the console’s launch in Japan. This first game in their series of rock-hard fantasy RPGs was only released in Japan, but can now be played in English thanks to a fan translation available on the interweb and the powers of emulation combined with those who follow in the footsteps of Captain Jack Sparrow, and it was a direct influence on the series which was ultimately to make the company famous. Staff on Demon’s Souls described that game as a spiritual successor to the company’s debut, and that game should really be credited with establishing much of the groundwork of the soulslike genre which were then refined in much more successful follow up Dark Souls. 

I failed to complete Dark Souls on Xbox 360 or PC and eventually completed Dark Souls Remastered on the Xbox series X. Now just because I hadn’t previously completed it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t already one of my favourite games of all time, it just means that once I got my head around how the game worked and got better at building characters and at the combat, I still hit a brick wall EVERY CHARACTER BUILD with dual bosses Smough & Ornstein about halfway through the game. I hate those two cunts. I hate them so much I don’t even want to write about why or this article will descend into a series of capitalised rants featuring the phrases “Fat Hammering Bastard” and “Fucking Lightning Cunt” a fair bit. The drum guy from earlier said it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in a videogame, and he still only took 40 odd attempts to beat them I TOOK 10 YEARS. FUCKING LIGHTNING CUNT FAT HAMMERING BASTARD!!

​I’ll admit I own literally hundreds of games I’ve never finished for various reasons, but recently I’ve been trying to actually finish whatever game I start and am actually enjoying. I did just sack Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 in chapter 2 whilst fighting some beardy prick outside a mansion, then started playing Flying Wild Hog’s batshit crazy but entertaining Wild West but with Vampires and Werewolves brawler / shooter “Evil West” and also quit that at the final boss who was cheap and shit. If there’s one thing that can make me sack a game I’m enjoying faster than J K Rowling can fire off another transphobic twitter post, it’s a shitty boss fight. The Evil West final boss was just annoying as fuck so I’m done with that game, for some reason I almost quit the game on multiple occasions then the combat did click and it’s cheezy plot carried it a bit. Not as good as the same studio’s earlier Shadow Warrior titles for me, and a bunch of shady bosses throughout. Clair Obscur is brilliant though and a strong contender for Game of the Year already despite really just being Frenchy Fantasy, the story is good and the characters interesting. The combat can rely a bit too much on timing button inputs during battle and the player is often punished heavily for missing these which can make fights take longer than they need to or make them harder than is necessary. I understand that this may be related to the builds I’ve made for my party in game, but I found that rather than become satisfying the further I progressed in game, the combat for me became increasingly irritating and I needed to take a break. I will return to it and beat Beardy Cunt at some point.

​So I returned to Tom Clancy’s The Division, another game I played a lot during lockdown as for some reason being able to run around a pandemic stricken New York, shooting various people with a variety of satisfying weapons, largely for breaking lockdown rules, was strangely therapeutic.

Next time – more ramblings.