Right here's a little monologue I've gone and made with the intention of to be performed for stand-up. Personally, I don't like it that much and can't ever really see myself doing stand-up. I don't think I go far enough with my themes. But, here's what I wrote. Be as harsh as you want as I myself think it's a load of wank. I want ideas on how to improve.
Enjoy...
...Though it is wank.
I mean, if you've got your hopes up for something good... Read my Babysitter sketches, I like them. But this is quite, quite terrible.
Right,
You want to read it now don't you.
But like I said...
It is bad.
Just so you know.
Anyway.
The monologue.
Who here doesn’t wear glasses? Show of hands please. Thank you. Now, I have a question that I want to ask you, from the spectacled community, why do you insist, nay demand, to try on our glasses on when you’re drunk? We don’t go around asking to try your trousers on or we don’t insist we try out your sexual partners, which inevitably you have significantly more of, than us. I mean it’s so annoying, they come over “Charles, Charles, give me your glasses, let me try them on, I want to see what I look like” “No actually, I sort of need them, I have very unstable retinas and oh look you’ve got them” I’m stumbling around, getting lost, stumble into a room I shouldn’t be in, like the Ladies toilets, then sit on the floor and masturbate frantically... Oh wait, no, I had my glasses on that night. Well they drew glasses on the e-fit anyway.
I live by two rules. Number one, never get head from a bird with braces, you may as well get a hand job off Edward Scissorhands and number two. Don’t trust people with three names, they usually end up killing really good people. John Wilks Booth killed Abraham Lincoln, James Early Ray killed Martin Luther King, Mark David Chapman killed John Lennon. Yeah, it adds up doesn’t it, that’s why I believe is it undisputable that Camilla Parker Bowles killed Diana. I’ve done that joke before and someone said to me, “But Barry George, killed Jill Dando. You’re theory falls apart there. He only had two names. Ha!” Fair point. But… what good did Jill Dando do?
…Nothing. Lazy bitch probably deserved it.
On that point, did anyone see that Martin Bashir interview with Michael Jackson. Where it was revealed he was, in fact, f**king mental. Basically. Well the argument for all his insane-errys is that he never had a childhood, he was always in the public eye. So I wonder, about the other people who never had a childhood because of being in the public eye, like, say, the Queen. I mean I know we see her with all her “How do you do? I am the Queen? How do you do? I’m not Helen Mirren, I’m actually the queen. How do you do? I cut the stupid bitches brakes… now wait forget that. How do you do?” But I wonder, behind closed doors as soon as the public eye is off her, I wonder if… she strips to her knickers and bra, gets on all fours then starts screaming something that is batshit insane at the corgis like “MY SOUL IS FUCKING HIDEOUS! I WANT TO LEARN ABOUT SPACE! AAAAAARGGGHHHH!!!!” Or maybe she secretly thinks she's God.
I want to know, at what point, did it become a trait of conventional masculinity to “claim your own fart?” What annoys me is when your in a pub and the atmosphere becomes warm, damp and smells of rancid shit, an anonymous fart has been let out into our surroundings but it’s architect wishes to remain anonymous. Of course there at least five people who go “That couldn’t be, I claim mine. I’d be proud of that. I claim mine. That’s a good one. Well done whoever it was. Look. It’s made Rupert be sick. I claim mine.” Yes. Of course, I didn’t do this one, but I usually do them, in the event of this happening, you’ll know as I “claim” them and am quite proud. Especially if it makes people go outside and heave. Yes. That is something to be proud of, isn’t it? It’s idiots like that who vote BNP. In fact, I’d go as far as if you “claim your own farts” you are in fact, racist.
“Claiming your own farts” was quite common in a village I lived in, in Derbyshire. It was a charming village and by charming I mean at least thirty years behind society. Here’s an example if someone was to come out of the closet, they weren’t gay, they were just “confused.” “Oh, he’s not gay, he’s confused, he’s not gay, he’s just a bit muddled up, he’s just going through a rough time. He’s just confused.” If there is one thing he isn’t confused about, one thing he’s made his mind up about, is that he f**king loves cock. Homosexuality, whilst I have nothing against it, shouldn’t be the sort of lifestyle to embark upon if you aren’t really sure it’s something you want to do. I mean, I’d imagine, if you were still on rocky ground with the whole… taking it up the arse “thing.” Once it’s up there, you shouldn’t be thinking “God, I could murder a fanny right now.”
Do you remember when you were a kid and the shock, the horror, when you realised, that for the first time… that Tigers… were better… than Lions. I remember thinking “F**k off, they’ve got patterns on them. How are they hard? Lions are KING of the jungle, they’re masculine. They have manes. Tigers are orange and seem to be a bit camp. They are the Dale Winton of the jungle.” Of course, a Lion may not beat up a tiger, but it would beat up Dale Winton. Trust me. Long story short I’m not aloud in Chester Zoo again… or on Supermarket Sweep.
Why, on earth, did A. A. Milne never publish the story where Winnie The Pooh and Tigger, who were essentially a Tiger and Bear, ripped Christopher Robbins to shreds then fought over who would devour his shredded corpse?
Speaking of Zoos, one thing I’ve always wanted to do. In summer, when it’s at it’s busiest, is to run around screaming, just to see people’s reactions. “QUICK! RUN! THEY’VE ESCAPED! THEY’VE ALL ESCAPED!”
Thanks.
I really enjoyed that. 
