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How To Blag A Million Pounds

Donal Coonan | 09-02-12

Do you want to watch me producing breast milk ice cream, holding the world’s smallest festival, becoming a male escort and trying to sell sex toys to Frank Skinner? Because this week I put the finishing touches to a film I made called ‘How To Blag A Million Pounds’ and it’s now up online. You can pay anything between £3 and £1,000,000 for the privilege of watching this ridiculous attempt to make a million quid during a recession. All proceeds go to set up an independent filmmaking fund so that equally odd films can continue to be made. In other Donal-news this week: I bought a peace lily.

This week…

Donal Coonan | 27-01-12

So this week I’ve mostly been ill. The downside of this is that I didn’t really get a lot done. The upside is that I got to spend quite a bit of time with my cat. Here’s the evidence.

Side-Splitting

Donal Coonan | 23-01-12

So tonight I’m off to see my friend and comedy superhero, Dr Brown perform the penultimate performance of his side-splitting show Becaves at the Soho Theatre. Not only is it ‘side-splitting’ in the normal sense of that phrase, but it also splits audiences into two sides (which means that, for those who don’t like it, it’s not at all side-splitting in the normal sense). I’ve decided to take my parents along tonight, even though it might not really be their thing. Why? Well Dr Brown gets naked on stage, and also drags people up to be slightly abused. I’ve tipped him off that there’ll be a sixty year old man with a beard in the front row who he should definitely target. My father, obviously.

Here’s a video of me chatting to Dr Brown in my living room.

Flight Club

Donal Coonan | 13-01-12

Well hell to the o, it’s Donal. Things to report. A new episode of ‘Flight Club’ – where I meet a celeb/comedian on anaeroplane. This week, it’s Rich Fulcher, of The Mighty Boosh fame. It’s only two minutes long. So grab a mini bottle of wine from a passing air hostess, and make sure you watch right to the end. Something goes wrong.

In other news, I recently turned thirty. You know how, in your mid and late twenties, every time it’s your birthday, you say “God, I’m old now,” but part of you still thinks you’re actually still quite young. Well, when I hit thirty, I said the same thing, but inside I knew I was speaking a true thing.

In biological news, the wisdom tooth on the left hand side of my mouth (my left, your right if you need exact placements) is just inching itself out. It feels like a tiny monster is finally coming to life, having spent the last thirty years fertilizing in the warm wetness of my pregnant mouth, primitively plotting its entrance. It shouldn’t be called a wisdom tooth. It should be called a complete idiot. As I type, I can almost hear it speak to me: ‘Hello. I am Wisdom. And by the way, my wife will be appearing on the other side of your mouth any month soon. And she is a real pain.”