Hardeep Singh Kohli: Comedy is simply surreal

Published on Saturday 29 August 2009 22:58

The prize for the best joke at the Fringe went to Dan Antopolski for this line:

"Hedgehogs. Why can't they just share the hedge?"

But that joke isn't may favourite of the past month. My favourite was told to me by a cabbie on the way to Haymarket.

Cabbie: How many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb

Me: I don't know

Cabbie: Aubergine.

I ride off leaving food for thought

Ihave written this column for nigh on two years. Those 24 months have witnessed me share with you my take on the widest gamut of human experience. No subject has been too lofty or too minute for my attention and for yours. Global politics, turbans, food, cycling, love, food, corduroy, food and many, many other topics have all found themselves filtered through the column inches of this page. We have enjoyed and experienced the weird, the wacky, the poignant and the prescient. But of all the stories I have touched on, of all the deeply personal experiences I have related, one above all others has seen my inbox bulge with responses and opinions.

What could the subject have been? Independence for Scotland and the re-emergence of a nation? The dead dog story? Coming to terms with sleeping alone? No, none of these. The column that has seen more e-mail traffic than any other was my inability to find a decent Chinese restaurant in our capital city. I now have a list of nine to choose from. For that I thank you all. And as I saddle my horse and ride off into the journalistic sunset, I'm glad it was my love of food that evoked such deep reaction and passion. Never forget the food.

FBI comments on MacAskill bring to mind pot and kettle

Who would be Kenny MacAskill? It's been a tough couple of weeks for the Scottish Justice Secretary. More knowledgeable, more intelligent and more thoughtful writers will offer you arguments for and agin the release of the man convicted of bombing that Pan Am flight over Lockerbie. One cannot help thinking about the families of the victims at this time, thoughts that no doubt weighed heavily on MacAskill's mind. Whether Megrahi should have been released on compassionate grounds or not is a decision that has divided a country, a United Kingdom and a world. Everyone seems to have an opinion. And much as democracy ought to allow every and any opinion to be voiced, I personally find it a wee bit hypocritical that the head of the FBI in the US feels it appropriate to launch such a coruscating moral and deeply personal attack on the decision and the decision-maker. Is this the same FBI that is said to have failed to act in solving the murders of civil rights protesters during the Fifties and Sixties? The same FBI that has kept secret files of investigation on ordinary, as yet uncharged citizens? The same FBI that the 9/11 commission's final report criticised for not pursuing intelligence reports that might have prevented the Twin Towers attacks? No one is pretending for a moment that there aren't troubling issues surrounding Megrahi's release, the conflict of two different cultures and the very essence of compassion. But as far as morality is concerned, I think some organisations and some people are better placed than others when it comes to pontificating. And in this instance I'm not sure the FBI qualifies. There is a phrase involving the blackness of pots and kettles.

Fitting end to a tale of three cities

A month living in Edinburgh has been a novel experience. From one world capital in London to the Athens of the North, I've been struck by both the similarities and differences between the cities. London has the buzz, the immediacy of a great world capital. Living in London you genuinely feel history is happening around you. But it wholly lacks the more laid-back vibe of Edinburgh, as well as the beauty of a city built around a castle. Maybe I'm getting older, more able to appreciate the subtler charms of a quieter, less ebullient city. Edinburgh has changed since devolution, growing yet more in stature. There are few more stunning cities in the world. And as it changes so do I. For the first time in years I find myself entertaining the notion of a Dougie MacLean-like return to Caledonia. The real difference now is that I have two great Scottish cities to return to. Fair praise for the capital from this Weegie.

Haste ye back to my next Festival foray

The Festival draws to an end and with it my debut show. It has been quite an incredible curve of learning, a profound education in my 40th year on this planet. I love the fact that we can keep acquiring knowledge through every stage of our lives. Knowledge, whilst garnering new information also seeks to show us our shortfalls and our failings.

My first foray into live performance has been a genuine voyage of discovery. On the face of it, an hour a day seems like no sort of hard work. Yet that hour on stage has an intensity about it, a concentration of effort that feels like a full day's work. Edinburgh erases all sense of time, place and space. I can safely say that never before have I found myself sleeping in so late; never before have I been so blissfully unaware of the day of the week. The only thing I concern myself with is where I am at 6pm for the next two hours. And once on stage there is a nakedness, a vulnerability; a sea-ful of expectant faces who have paid good money and chosen me over the host of other acts and musicians and plays and Swedish circus acts.

It's been quite something. I am sure in the weeks and months that follow the lessons will be learnt, the experience processed. But one thing I know is that I have absolutely loved doing this show and I have every intention to return next year. Fitter, healthier and more productive. And maybe even funnier.