bodhrancomedy
Bodhrán: the Stand-on-a-Chair Comedian
A Tumblr account for a pint-sized comedian and their dumb queer jokes. Hard-of-Hearing, but a baby culturally Deaf. Find me as bow_asintakea_rawn on TikTok! (Because they don't allow fadas...) He/They
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Hahaha, joints joke.
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Real things people have said to my face.
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Hahaha, joints joke.
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Real things people have said to my face.
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It’s shittily filmed off my phone, but it’s this is going on my showreel.
My main scene as Matthew in Hope Street (S3E11)
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I don’t know who’s in charge of the ads on Channel 4 streaming, but you don’t understand pacing at all.
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I have another proposition.
Let me live my four-year-old self’s dreams.
My friend has decreed I need a bleach blond “cunty mullet”.
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Irrevocable proof I was once in musical theatre.
Acting points out of ten.
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So, years and years and years ago, I started writing a book.
Today I found a list of the chapter titles from said book.
Help, My Boredom is Slowly Killing Me
This Play is Filled With Mermaids, Melodrama, and Cute Musicians (Not That I’m Complaining)
Open Mouth, Insert Foot
Wizards Are Weird and Vaguely Useful
Enthusiasm is Great in Small Doses
: It’s Not Eavesdropping if You Don’t Have to Try
Dressing in Dark Colours is a Villain Cliché
Personal or Politics? Why Choose?
The Pros and Cons of Sneaking Around at Night
The Problem is Getting Them to Stop Talking
Dinner, Drinks, and Discoveries (Of Historical Import)
No, Tara, We’re Not Going to Dramatically Rob Him
Fine, it’s a Dramatic Robbery (Also Am I Being Threatened in Tree Symbolism?)
What Kind of Monster Locks a Child in a Prop Box?
Another Day, Another Attempt at Murder
I’m Sorry I Broke My Parole but It Was Kind of Important (Part 1)
Never Look Your Heroes Up in the Hall of Records
Hey, I Really, Really Fancy You (Please Be Gay)
Oh, Gods, a Plot Twist
Alright, So Now You’re Efficient at Your Jobs
I’m Sorry I Broke My Parole but It Was Kind of Important (Part 2)
Would You Mind? My Cellmate is Dying.
Fuck, I’m Surrounded by *Fucking* Heroes.
I Told You There Were Magical Locks For a Good Reason!
Well, Shit. I Guess That’s That, Then.
Fifteen year old me was having a Time.
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An update to this: I had someone try (because luckily I’d already filtered keywords) to flood my comment section with my place of work down to the postcode with an invitation to “go say hi”.
That wasn’t in fun.
One thing I despise about kids being uneducated about internet safety is the amount of times I’ve had to delete not just their identifying details from my page (don’t fucking tell me where you go to school), but also mine.
If you saw me at work or out and about, no you fucking didn’t.
Shut the fuck up, I’ve had death threats.
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Irrevocable proof I was once in musical theatre.
Acting points out of ten.
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Yeah, one of us is queer.
Take a wild guess.
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If you vote, would you mind reblogging?
Just for
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As a lifelong rightie, I’m always fascinated by where I tend to favour my left hand.
I write with my right, but I do delicate painting with my left. I play badminton with my right, but I can play squash (primarily backhand because that’s far easier) with both. I am left handed with long sword and frisbees, but right with knives. I throw with my right and catch with my left. I play guitar with my left, recorder with my right, and - because my older sister taught me - tie knots and my laces left handed style.
It’s just so interesting.
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An Answer to the Question: What Are You? or Why Are You So Obsessed With My Genitalia??
Subtitles:
I’m an actor, I’m a writer,
More a lover than a fighter
If only ‘cause my body looks like a bunch of noodles tied together.
My muscle tone’s abysmal, I’m a dancer in the drizzle,
I’m a gotta-knock-on-wood-but-don’t-believe-in-superstition
I sprinkle Scots inside my English and mix English wi’ my Scots
God, I much prefer to sign instead of talk.
I have an accent which thickens into an indecipherable stew
Of every place I’ve ever been, every person ever talked to
I’m a boulderer with a fear of heights, a poet with a stutter
A tiny frazzled gremlin in a bedroom full of clutter
I’m a shouter for the rugby but only when Ulster’s playing
I’m a speak-so-fast-ye-cannae-tell-exactly-fit-I’m-saying
I’m a diver down the rabbit holes of history and theatre -
But the question asked was ‘what’
Of none of that you care,
What you’re really asking is:
What do I have… down there.
To which I must reply, who gives a fucking shit?
Unless you kinda fancy me, but that’s certainly not it.
I’ve just told you what I am, a hundred times or more -
Yet the only question asked: handle or a door?
Well, pronouns in the bio, your business it is no,
Beside what kind of lonely creep straight out demands to know?
Very appropriate I think to these times in the UK. Fuck t*rfs and tr*nsphobes. I’m cooler than you.
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Listen, I’ve been told that I put my characters through hell with their backstories, but I still think one of the saddest tropes is a lone wolf who is actually one of the most social, teamwork oriented people on the planet, but circumstances keep snatching that away from them. There’s no “I must keep my distance, I’ve become jaded”, it’s “maybe this time I can close the gap, please God.”
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Hey, remember when I said I’d tell you about these back in January?
Well, it’s May.
So!
The Carnivorous Library follows disgraced librarian Rogi when he’s legally dragged back inside the Arcane Bibliotheca when a band of rogue radicals break inside using the very spellbooks Rogi illegally sold. Not only have they taken many of his former coworkers hostage, they’ve woken the Library itself… and now it’s hungry.
Rogi is no warrior, but he has had his magic sealed away meaning the spell they’ve cast won’t affect him. However, it does nothing to help navigate the Eldritch hellscape inside.
The Necropolis Railway focuses on Michael, a nervous young attendant on the famed London Necropolis railway as it ferries bodies to the graveyards beyond the city. Michael is excellent with the passengers, both the living and the dead as he can comfort with the ghosts on their final journey. The secret weighs heavily on him, until a childhood friend in search of a story boards the train.
There is a necromancer running free in London and they’ve just got onboard.
This journey won’t be so easy.
The Astronomer, the Bandit, and the March to Starhill is the story of elderly royal astronomer, Galen, kidnapped one dark morning from his post and taken into the wilderness. There is no ransom demand, no reason a gang of bandits should have to get their hands on a man who can read the stars and yet the leader of the bandits seems determined to deliver Galen to the mysterious “Starhill” somewhere in the mountains. But Galen has secrets of his own and he must use every pinch of his guile and intelligence to get free before he’s lost in the wilds forever.
If you vote, would you mind reblogging?
Just for
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