Scott Capurro

Comic. Actor. Author.

Just read this on line. It’s my fault for looking myself up. I started with reading about a friend who’s a director, and before you know it, I’m googling me. This is one of the saddest Saturday nights I’ve ever spent alone. I’m in a hotel room in Toronto. I was here to do a festival, and the festival was basically cancelled. Don’t worry, I’ve been paid. Well, I’ve been handed a check. We’ll see what happens when I deposit it. If it bounces, I’ll think, well at least someone is using rubbers. I like the way the List calls me a ‘little bitch’. Sounds horny. Actually some guy was supposed to come over tonite at midnight and cum on my cotton-blend, but he never showed. Men are so fickle. I wandered through the gay village, but it’s far too cold here. Everyone walks around like it’s balmy because they’re not completely covered in snow, but my fingers were about to snap off. I had to get indoors. Not sure how they deal with this for six months, and in fact, i hear it gets colder. The leaves are nice…

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This appeared in the Glasgow Herald last weekend… Among the big-name comics playing Scotland this weekend, Scott Capurro is cruder than Frank Skinner, bitchier than the Grumpy Old Women, less discreet than Alan Carr, skinnier even than Mark Watson and has corresponded with more convicted killers than Ardal O’Hanlon. Seemingly driven by spite, bitterness and […]

Here’s more articles from GT, but for fucksake you cheap faggots, buy the goddamn mag. It’s really good and glossy and impressive when tricks are visiting. At least it gives you something to talk about, right before they get their cocks out. Or put them away. Either way, it’s chic on a table top. As if there are any tops, anywhere, ever! I mean, I’d let these Persians fuck me, I’m not racist, but they cum so fast, they’re so unbelievably excited that they’ve FINALLY got some cock action, that it’s over before it starts, like my adolescence. One guy, Indian, cute, married, living in Dublin, which is almost nice now, he barely got off his trousers before he rushed to my hotel room toilet and shot in my bowl. Then 5 minutes later, in my mouth. What am I, a cum dumpster? Wait, that sounds hot. OK, I’m a cum dumpster, but where’s the fun for me? I guess I could fuck an actualized, fully-fledged gay, but they’re so plucked and tweezed, it’s like humping a canned ham. I’ll stop for now. Read below, bitches!

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Scott Capurro GT September 2007 I’ve never been single. As my mother’s only gay son, I’ve been her constant chaperone, confidant and admirer. We’ve weathered job loss, divorces and drug use. In the early 80s, she was my preferred cocaine dealer. And in 1982, during my first summer home from university, Mom outed me, to […]

And here’s the August Gay Times article. I know, I know – porn in Prague? How predictable. But I had to see this stuff in live, uncut action. If merely for the research. And the tears.

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Scott Capurro GT August, 2007 Prague is a beautiful city, but that’s not the reason lots of gay porn is produced there. The men are inexpensive and slightly desperate. More importantly, they’re incredibly hot. They’re the sweet side of Slavic, some with blond hair and tan lines, others with pale 8-packs and shiny black pubes, […]

This is another Gay Times article. I almost hate to post it, because I think it gives too much credance to bad behavior. Oh, fuck it, you’ll see what I mean.

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Scott Capurro Gay Times July 2007 Before a show in Covent Garden, a note came hand delivered. The young man smiled, said some kind words, and then shyly, slowly walked back to his seat. The paper was embossed with a Buddha head. I do yoga. I considered this a good sign. Once opened, in black […]

Lesbians in Brighton – a whinging combination

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Earlier, I did a set at the Komedia in Brighton, a venue I’ve played successfully for many years. However tonite, I was performing as part of a gay and lesbian themed evening and they asked me to go on first. Not a great idea, my act is slightly confrontational, but i agreed because I liked […]

I kind of hate adding this, although I love the piece, but it’s all about this cock tease who needs to be harmed; and I fear giving him this much attention will only fuel his ego. That’s assuming he reads anything other than street signs as he’s stumbling home from yet another pimp’s home. Oddly I’m playing a club near his house tonite. Maybe he’ll drop by so I can quarter him, verbally. Like he’d notice. Hearing his own name, he’d drift off into a fantasy where a huge bomb explodes and everyone who doesn’t adore him dies. I want him, bad!

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Scott Capurro Gay Times July 2007 Before a show in Covent Garden, a note came hand delivered. The young man smiled, said some kind words, and then shyly, slowly walked back to his seat. The paper was embossed with a Buddha head. I do yoga. I considered this a good sign. Once opened, in black […]

You should have read this article first. Not sure if you’re reading from bottom to top. Wait, why would you? No, this is fine, I’ve done this right. Read from top to bottom. Sorry, I’ve added these potentially out of order. Oh shit, it doesn’t matter, it’s not that kind of column, although the article below was in reaction to this article, which was my first for Gay Times, and for which I received LOADS of hate mail. Queens, in their most sullen moments, tend to lack a sense of irony. Although I do mean all this, but I’m saying it’s appropriate behavior for fuck sake. Just read it and touch yourself. Again.

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For GT Magazine, April 2007 Scott Capurro French Farce Sheathed penetration is hard to come by in France. To a Parisian, anything plastic or covered in rubber that stands between him and nature is artifice and unseemly. Even in the two-star hotels I frequent, fresh flowers line the front desk. Evian water in glass bottles […]