Guitarist Winston Marshall has been taking improv classes with the Upright Citizens Brigade in New York. In case you’re unfamiliar, UCB is a venerated underground comedy institution that feeds talent into Saturday Night Live (Amy Poehler is a veteran). He’s also tossing around an idea for a comedy web series.
—  5 Things You Definitely Didn’t Know About Mumford & Sons, Billboard 2015

Hey! Because I know you aren’t sick of seeing this flyer yet, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE buy a ticket (or, 12!) to come see me perform an hour (yikes!) of stand up comedy live on stage at The Comedy Underground! Tickets are only $10 now and will be $12 at the door. BUT WHO WANTS TO SPEND AN EXTRA TWO DOLLARS AT THE DOOR?!? But them NOW!

Gimme Shelter.

The great thing about living in London is that everyone thinks you’re a dick and won’t speak to you. I don’t know how people can bear living in the barbaric “outside London” where people confuse respect and friendliness with talking. “I hate London”, they say like you’re in anyway interested. “No one talks to you on the tube”. Take a look around, mate. These are commuters on a tube train. Angry, angry London commuters forced to be sardined together and read the Metro. Who here do you really want to talk to?

I traveled back home on the tube on Friday. The downside of travelling by tube is that you’re unaware of the weather, so as my journey went on and I saw more and more soaking wet passengers get on, I started to regret not bringing an umbrella. Not that I ever bring an umbrella. That’s one thing you can be sure of about me. I will never have an umbrella. Also, I will always regret not having an umbrella.

A man sitting in front of me looked at me and raised his eyebrows twice quickly. That’s fine. He’s clearly not from London and doesn’t understand that eyebrow cheekiness is just as illegal here as talking. It’s still a form of communication. A few seconds later, I looked over and he did it again. Great. As always, the tube nutter is attracted to me. Why must I always be the most beautiful thing on the underground? A few more seconds pass and he raises his eyebrows twice quickly at me again, this time adding a nod. Well, I now have no choice. I’m going to have to punch him. He has broken all laws of the tube. He has taken an interest in something and that is not allowed. A good punch to the throat will let him know that he is in London now. His nod started to get a bit more… noddy. His eyebrows were frantically bouncing and his nod was insistent. He was actually using his nod to point. At my shoes.

You know when two old Volkswagen Beetle drivers pass each other they toot their horn or flash their lights at one another as a sign of respect because they’re in the same club? Well, he was doing that with shoes. We were both wearing the same Converse shoes.

That’s not the same thing at all, is it? Old Beetles are probably quite hard to come by these days, I imagine. Mass produced popular shoes, less so. It’s not like we were going to get into a deep conversation about whether or not we still have the original laces or did we have to go on eBay and try to find the exact insoles from a spare parts shoe expert. I smiled at him though. If he leaves London thinking it was amazing because he saw a man wearing the same shoes as him, then let him have his fun. I hope that will be of some comfort to him on his deathbed. As he got up to leave, he curled out an almighty turd onto the London Tube Rule Book and spoke to me. “Goodbye”, he said.

Yeah, idiot. Goodbye. Fucking stupid idiot.

As he got off the train I saw him taking an umbrella out of his bag.

Why didn’t I bring an umbrella? I’m an idiot.

I never bring an umbrella. I don’t know why I never bring an umbrella but I never, ever bring an umbrella. Maybe it’s because I’m just not that uptight about a bit of rain. Maybe I just don’t care about anything. Mavericks never care. Maybe it’s because I don’t actually have an umbrella. There are more and more soaking wet passengers on the tube now. I really wish I had an umbrella.

A man and woman get on and sit near me. The man sits right beside me, the woman sits facing him. They are a couple. I can tell because they are arguing, but at least they’re arguing quietly. They both have umbrellas. That’s also not a good sign. If they were happy, they’d have one umbrella. Yes, they’d both get a bit wet and look all sexy but at least they’d have each other and who cares about anything if you have that? Is it still raining, I hadn’t noticed… etc.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, he said in his London accent. See? Londoners get it. You’re on the tube: no talking! “I’m not being unreasonable”, she replied in her northern accent.

Ah, well. They NEVER understand the tube, do they? This is the London Underground where every carriage is the Quiet Carriage but still their argument whispered on. To be fair, I couldn’t really hear what they were arguing about but their faces said everything. She looked tired, he looked furious. I heard lots of “I don’t care” and “You don’t listen” from him but I couldn’t hear her at all and that’s fine by me. Like I said, they were breaking the rules but at least they were doing it quietly. Until… he said “shut up”. Not loudly. Just louder than before. Clearer. Nastier. “Shut up”.

She responded but every time she spoke he got louder. “Just shut up”, he kept saying. People around us felt uncomfortable, she looked mortified. “Stupid bitch”, he said loud and clear and everyone around looked at him. I was one of them. “Got a problem?”, said the 40 year old teenager. And that’s when I broke my own rule: I spoke to someone on the tube.

I thought about northerners. Talking in a friendly, cheery tone. Warm. I replied quietly and with a little laugh, thinking that would help (also, I was a bit scared). “I’m sitting next to a man who just said ‘Stupid bitch’ on the tube”.

He ignored me and the couple went back to arguing. Her quietly, him getting louder all the time. Everyone around us feeling very uncomfortable. He must have said “Stupid bitch” another 6 times before getting his phone and earphones out. That was it. The man had spoken: You’re a stupid bitch, the argument is over and now I’m going to listen to Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds. I don’t quite know what happened next but clearly, after speaking to that horrible man on the tube, I’d got a taste for it. I started talking to the woman. “Bloody Londoners”, I said to her. “Always so unfriendly”.

Turns out she was from Halifax, which is nice because I’ve got friends there and I’ve been a few times so we chatted about that and her work and why she moved to London. It was a nice chat. It was a very nice chat because she was friendly and I could feel him getting angrier. It was a very brief chat though as the tube arrived at her stop and she got up to leave. He stayed seated. “You coming?”, she said to him. “I’m going home”, he replied". She said goodbye to me and left.

The horrible man and I sat there for two more stops. Sitting silently and uncomfortably, like all good Londoners. Then, once again, he broke the rules. “You don’t know what she’s like”, he said. Again, I was northern friendly and northern cheery in my tone (because I was still a bit scared). “I know I don’t know her”, I said. “But I know a bit about you. You’re a bloke that calls his girlfriend a stupid bitch in public”. He leaned into my face and invited me to go fuck myself. And then he got up and left.

I understand the barbarians of “outside London” a bit more now. We don’t like talking to each other in public places in London but maybe the “outside London” weirdos don’t like it either. Maybe they’ve just figured out that if we’re all a bit friendlier then it’s much harder for people to be horrible. Being horrible in London is easy. It’s normal. But being horrible in front of people who are friendly, warm and welcoming? That’s tough. And look where our commuter isolation gets us: being told to go fuck yourself by a man who considers his girlfriend a stupid bitch.

Oh, look. He’s forgotten his umbrella.


YO GUYS!! I finally finished recording my mixtape. I planned on getting it done professionally, but shit happened and I had to do it all myself, that’s why it doesn’t sound “studio professional”. 

Quick Intro:

I’m not trying to be famous, I’m not trying to make rapping my career. I do this for fun. Doesn’t mean I don’t think I have something to offer people, even if it’s just a smile and a laugh, which is pretty much the main reason I do it. I’m a comedic rapper who makes non comedic songs, like this one. This is one is strictly for my underground heads who love lyrics, wordplay, multi-syllable rhymes, etc.


I will probably offend you with some of my songs, so if you’re prone to being easily offended, don’t listen. That’s the only trigger warning you people are getting. Make sure you listen to my “Intro” (both of them) before you listen to my music so you can understand it. I also have some positive songs.

You won’t hear “gangsta” shit or club shit or anything like that with my songs, unless it’s a parody/satire.

Here’s my soundcloud.

Here’s my bandcamp.

Here’s my Facebook.

Here’s my ReverbNation.



All my lyrics will be up on Rap Genius soon, too. I have a lot of hidden/double meanings in my songs.

I’m just bringing fun Hip-Hop back (Wow that sounds corny). I know I suck, I know I’m not the best, I know all of that. I just like having fun with it. I’m really not taking it that seriously. I just really love doing it. It’s therapy to me.



I’m really not going to promote my shit. Maybe a few more times in the late future when I release it, but I don’t like promoting my stuff. It makes me feel “desperate” and like an attention seeker, among other reasons too. I don’t like it.

If you like it, great!! If you don’t, that’s okay too!! You’re allowed to not like it!! :) 

Feedback is always appreciated, as well as constructive criticism.

I love you all. Stay human.



Zoltan Nebula.

The best worst rapper,

The worst best rapper.


There are important rules to “Fight Cube”. The first being, Don’t Talk about fight cube!

Brought back a good friend of the show @ItsMrJefferson. We chopped it up about Madonna GILF ass swapping spit with Aubrey Graham, fast food workers getting paid more, embarrassing work stories and ton more. Make sure to sign up for a FREE audio book at AUDIBLETRIAL.COM/RANDOM and get a free 30 day trial of Audible a long with the Audio book. Get your read on!


#Loch #AfroAmericanPsycho #music #video by @undisputedmedia #snippet #3 #Hiphop #underground #horror #comedy #satire #moverite #mceo #AmericanPsycho

3. A Mumford Member Is Also Trying to Be a Comedian
Guitarist Winston Marshall has been taking improv classes with the Upright Citizens Brigade in New York. In case you’re unfamiliar, UCB is a venerated underground comedy institution that feeds talent into Saturday Night Live (Amy Poehler is a veteran). He’s also tossing around an idea for a comedy web series.


In this new episode of The Special, the returning Freshie Freshie leads The Perception Society in a celebration of the Festival of Gorgon, Father Cyrill reveals THE STONE, and Kristen’s Dad is there. Plus an interview with Arthur Meyer, music from Lost Boy, and a video by Dan Licata. Featuring Darren Mabee, John Reynolds, Eliza Hurwitz, Mary Houlihan, Colin Burgess, & Christopher Garner.

Learn more about Arthur Meyer’s new book, FUDS: A Complete Encyclofoodia from Tickling Shrimp to Not Dying in a Restaurant here! Check out more of Lost Boy’s music here

Join us next week for our most unpredictable show yet. When we welcome ECW hardcore legend New Jack to the show. Plus we have music from Nuclear Santa Claust

The Special without Brett Davis is a live weekly variety show that brings new, different, terrible hosts each week, all of them NOT comedian Brett Davis. There are special guests, great bands, the best names in NYC underground comedy and wildly different episodes every Wednesday at 11pm.