That Iain Connell Wan

Photo

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 13:20:16 +0100

Photo

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 15:21:36 +0100

My comedy wife, Robert Florence, is trapped in a porno.

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 15:13:02 +0100

My comedy wife, Robert Florence, is trapped in a porno.

Wee Apple - A Poem by ConnellWee apple, Suspiciously saft. No...

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 22:11:00 +0100

Wee Apple - A Poem by Connell

Wee apple,

Suspiciously saft.

No gonny eat it.

That wid be daft.

Venn diagram of sexual partners .

Tue, 28 May 2013 20:50:02 +0100

Venn diagram of sexual partners .

Dinner At the Hangman's House

Mon, 27 May 2013 16:32:39 +0100

Her: How was work today, honey?

Him: Oh, the usual. Tied a rope around a man’s neck and hung him until he was dead.

My Writing Process

Fri, 24 May 2013 11:22:36 +0100

On some days I like to go into the garden shed with a notepad and a pencil and take advantage of the peace and quiet there. I relax and let my mind wander a bit, a half-controlled daydream if you like, and put the pencil to the paper. Without thinking about it too much, I let my hand move the pencil around the page and I just see what I come up with. I often completely lose sense of time when I do this. It’s only when the door opens that I realise that I don’t have a shed and that I’m being angrily beaten with a spade.

A Crying Man

Thu, 23 May 2013 18:49:02 +0100

Imagine you saw a fifty year old man crying on a park bench. Then imagine he told you his life was like a Taylor Swift song. Then imagine laughing about that man for a long, long time.

Tent Fun

Thu, 23 May 2013 12:18:00 +0100

If you arrive late night at a campsite and you see a small tent, it’s good fun to build your own tent over the top of it. Then, when the people come out in the morning, say, ‘Hey, what the fuck are you doing in my tent?’

Real Life Conversation With A Small Boy

Tue, 21 May 2013 09:39:00 +0100

Small Boy: My farts smell like spiders.
Me: (Nothing. There is no response to being told by a small boy that his farts smell like spiders.)

Delighted to announce that I’ve signed a muti-million...

Thu, 09 May 2013 11:55:23 +0100

Delighted to announce that I’ve signed a muti-million pound contract to remain the Face of Sharp Sand.

Drew a line graph to show the reaction to Thatcher’s...

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 19:33:50 +0100

Drew a line graph to show the reaction to Thatcher’s death.

War Memorials

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 16:20:57 +0100

In 20 years time, war memorials will be statues of teenage boys, sitting on their couch at home, piloting military drones with a Playstation controller in between bouts of masturbation.

Monologues For Actors

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 12:24:52 +0100

There are never enough good monologues for actors who are on the audition merry-go-round. Here are a couple of my own personal favourites. The first is from the play ‘Bruce Labia Stole My Windbreaker On Ayr Beach’ by McHugh Longford-Itch.

HENRY

Sir? Sir? Sir? Sir, I appeal to you. Sir, thank you. Yes, you. This is your sheep? I said is that your sheep?

(PAUSE)

Sheep. Oh my God, I said to the sheep. Yes. This is your sheep?

(LONG PAUSE)

Is. It. Yours. Sheep? Yes. Sincerely. This is what I ask. I ask if it is your sheep. That is a sheep. That one. That one.

(PAUSE)

(LONG PAUSE)

(PAUSE)

This is one out there. Yes. This is your sheep? No? That’s all I wanted to know.

And another. This is from Dick Cheney’s stage adaptation of Alan Shearer’s novella ‘Referee, You’re Down A Self-Referential Reality Tunnel.’

HERPES FOAM

No, no-one ever called me fat slap virtuous old salt to fuck. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Stag Night Plan

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 20:24:32 +0100

1. Get encased in concrete so that only my head is sticking out.

2. Get hoisted into the air by a helicopter.

3. Have the helicopter drag my concrete-encased body through dozens of wooden chalets in the French alps, causing untold devastation.

4. Have renowned sculptor chisel me out of the concrete.

5. Pose for Playboy.

The Story of Wolfgang Martinez

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 11:58:00 +0100

Wolfgang Martinez had an interesting idea for a haircut. He went into his local barber and said, “Otto, I need a haircut that will suck birds out of the sky.” Otto the barber considered this for a minute and then started cutting. Pretty soon, all kinds of birds were being sucked out of the sky and smashing into Otto’s shop window, leaving bloody smears as they slid down it, either unconscious or dead. At first it was only two or three birds a minute but by the time Otto had finished with Wolfgang’s hair, thousands of birds were crashing into the ever-weakening glass every second. “When that window gives,” said Otto, “we are going to be suffocated in bird. We’ll drown in them.” But it was too late. Wolfgang’s haircut had sucked the giant phoenix tattoo from his own back and Wolfgang, his hair full of torn, painted skin, had bled to death in an inexplicably short amount of time.

The Tiny Pink-Cheeked Man

Tue, 26 Mar 2013 14:44:00 +0000

One day, a tiny man with pink cheeks and a brown bowler hat will knock on your door. He will be holding a briefcase. He will open the briefcase and hand you sheets and sheets and sheets and sheets and sheets of white paper. On the paper will be printed lists of “things” you’ve looked at on your beloved internet. Recent things. Years old things. Your footprint never fades. As your jaw drops, he will ask you to make him an offer. If the first thing that comes out of your mouth is not an offer that makes him walk away with a smile on his little face, he will end you. And it will be an ending from which Jesus Christ Himself could not return for a sequel. The tiny, pink-cheeked man in the brown bowler hat knows everything now, everything then and everything yet to be. He is coming and has no plans to jump into the newsagents for a Creme Egg on the way. No, no. His fingers will not be chocolatey. Good luck.

Worry A Stranger

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 16:41:00 +0000

If there’s a stranger who regularly eats/drinks at the same place as you, take a sneaky photograph of their face, make up a fake book cover using the picture and read the book in a place where they will definitely see it.

I’m watching you. (picture by James Houston.)

Fri, 15 Feb 2013 17:09:39 +0000

I’m watching you.

(picture by James Houston.)

Picture by James Houston.

Thu, 14 Feb 2013 17:49:37 +0000

Picture by James Houston.