Loudmouth Learmonth - our columnist on the web

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ANDREW Learmonth is a comedian, writer and broadcaster.

He started comedy around two years ago partly because he wanted to and partly because he felt he needed to do something a bit exciting.

Andrew is a radio presenter, and has written material for numerous magazines.

He’s also been in the process of writing a children’s book for the last two years.

Born in Aberdeen and raised a few miles outside Peterhead and now living in Aberdeen, Andrew knows the North-east of Scotland and its comedy and music scene very well.

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IN MY previous column I saw my neighbour in the buff and now she thinks I’m a pervert.

However, it was just an accident and I’m not.

Perhaps the biggest downside to this is that whenever I have to leave my flat I have to run in case she sees me.

I’m not sure why or what she would do to me but still, I think it best to run.

Tonight I am sprinting out of my door to meet up with friends and watch a couple of bands at the Tunnels.

One of the best things about being a DJ is that being in a venue and watching a band counts as work.

I’ve worked out that I’ve seen an average of two gigs a week since I started.

This is fantastic fun and considering the that I was a complete loser at school, it is also makes me feel incredibly cool.

The first band of the night is on and they’re terrible. I mean I’ve seen a lot of terrible bands before but this group are something else.

I can’t be sure but it seems that out of the five band members only the lead singer is in tune.

What makes the whole thing worse is that girls sitting at the table in front of me are talking really loudly.

Now, why does anyone go along to a gig and speak? Why have you paid around £5 at the door to go into a noisy room and speak?

But here’s the thing this doesn’t just happen at small gigs, when I saw the Arctic Monkeys at the AECC a couple of months back I had to move from my prime position near the front because two folk in front of me were talking about their cars.

Alex Turner is on stage singing his sharp and cutting lyrics about life in Britain and these guys are talking about alloy wheels.

The tickets cost £30 and there are people all around you dancing and singing along – why the hell are you here?

Anyway, this girl and her friend are talking about something even less interesting than cars.

Having had a couple of pints and wanting to hear more of the bad band – purely so I can moan about them to people and make it look like sometimes my job is difficult – I tap one of the girls on the shoulder so I can ask her to be quiet.

She turns round and I see a familiar face. I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that she also recognises me. Suddenly it clicks, this is the face of my naked neighbour.

I ask if she could be a bit quieter. She gives me a dirty look and goes back to talking to her friend.

I move.