Hi all. Only discovered this forum last night. I've attempted to write a stand-up script for the first time, and wondered if some of you kind, and not so kind, souls would provide me with some feedback, whether it be positive or constructive criticism. It's evidently a work in progress, being as I've never done anything like this before, and I know I probably ramble too much, but everyone has got to start somewhere, right?
Hi all. How is everyone? I'm sure the more observant amongst you will have noticed that I've got a bit of a waddle when I walk. Amazingly, you're not the first people to notice this. I once went on a date where this was brought up. I'd taken her out for dinner and on the walk home she turned to me and said "you remind me of a penguin". She didn't get a second date.
There's two reasons I waddle. Firstly, I'm a bit overweight. There. I've said it, the elephant's now in the room. Literally. I'm carrying what the Americans refer to as 'holiday weight'. The problem with this is that I haven't been on holiday since 2008. The second reason for my waddle is that I'm a bit disabled. It's ok though, it hasn't stopped me holding down a job. In fact, it helped me land my dream role as a foster carer for Pingu.
In all seriousness, my actual job is a secondary teacher, which has some good points and some bad points, like most jobs I guess. On a positive note, every day is different, 13 weeks paid holiday a year (kerching) and it provides me with an endless source of entertainment. On the downside, I have to work with kids, themarking is endless, and saying "I'm a History teacher" is a shit chat up line.
It's not like being a firefighter, for example. Those sods get women swooning at their feet, asking if they can slide up and down their pole. No, tell people you're a History teacher and they'll either think you're a) dull and boring, or b) gay.
I remember once I got chatting to a girl in a Bristol nightclub. Well, I say got chatting, what I actually mean is I was stood at the bar and before I knew what was happening she'd got me to buy her a drink, give her my phone number and I had yet to find out her name. She was the typical sort of girl that frequents nightclubs in Bristol. Platinum blonde hair, big hoopy earrings, make-up that looks like it's been applied with a trowel, skin colour somewhere between David Dickinson and Tango, dressed in a boob tube, high heels and a belt. You know the sort, you look up the word 'chav' in the dictionary and it's her picture staring back at you. A less classy version of The Only Way Is Essex girls, if you will.
So, 20 minutes into the conversation, I thought I better ask her her name. (In a Bristolian accent) "It's Char-Donny". "Don't you mean Chardonnay?" (In a Bristolian accent) " Err, no, I think I know how to pronounce my own name, dickhead." At this point, I should have run for the hills, but apparently I'm glutten for punishment. "So what do you do?" (In a Bristolian accent) "I work in the tanning studio in town." Ahh so that explains the radioactive glow. (In a Bristolian accent) "What about yous?" "I'm a History teacher" (In a Bristolian accent) "Oh, sorry. I did think you looked a bit camp, but thought maybe I could turn you." "Err, I'm not gay." (In a Bristolian accent) "Good for yous. I could never do your job though." "Well obviously you couldn't. You can't even pronounce your own name right, God help the world if you start educating children."
Bang. Next thing I know I'm waking up in A&E. She'd laid me out, right there in the club. And not laid me out in the good sense either. Trips to A&E are a common experience for me, as I'm quite accident prone. Last time I went they told me I'd earnt enough loyalty points for a free x-ray. Honestly, if you looked at my x-rays you'd sonfuse me with the bionic man. Screws here, bolts there, it's ridiculous. I'm part man, part robot. I have to pick where I shop carefully, as I keep setting off the security scanners.
I once made the mistake of taking my x-rays into school to show the kids, as they'd been asking for months. They were suitably impressed and that was that. Or so I thought. I suddenly started getting really odd looks off other members of staff. It turns out my delightful students had been telling the other teachers about my x-rays and how I had received my injuries. The problem with this is that I hadn't actually told them how I'd got the injuries, so they took it upon themselves, being the creative individuals that they are, to make up stories for me.
I then found out that they had actually turned this into a competition to see who could come up with the most ridiculous story and get it believed. They even had a ranking system. 1 point for year 7s, as they are completely gullible, 5 for sixth formers, teaching assistants got 10, 20 for teachers and 50 for the Head. Luckily for them, I saw the funny side, especially when I heard some of the stories they had come up with. Apparently I've had my foot cut off and then re-attached after an intensive interrogation session with the CIA, been involved in a high-speed crash as Ferrari's F1 test driver and had an unfortunate accident with an industrial-sized cheese grater. Do such things even exist?!
Anyway, I let the stories continue, and began to revel in my new found celebrity status around school. Until, that was, I got called in to see the Head about a 'serious matter'. I get ushered into the office, told to take a seat and I'm not even offered a cuppa. I'm thinking 'what the f**k have I done!?' (In a posh accent) "I'll get straight to the point Mr Hunt, it has recently been brought to my attention that you have lied on your C.V." On the inside, I am now turning into a babbling buffoon, but on the outside I remain cool, calm, collected. "I have no idea what you mean sir." (In a posh accent) "Well then let me enlighten you, Hunt" Not even a Mr this time, he must be pissed off. "I would like to know why, in the section marked 'previous employment', you have failed to mention the 12 months you spent working as a surfing instructor in Australia." How I kept a straight face I don't know. I just looked at him and said "Does this look like the body of a surfing Adonis? Thought not." (In a posh accent) "But I've been reliably informed that you lost your foot to a shark whilst teaching a surfing lesson..." At least we know who won the kids' competition.
I d recommend working with kids to anyone. As a treat on the last day of term, they decided that instead of watching a DVD they wanted to do karaoke. Now, this was fine, until they made me sing. I decided I'd sing a song they probably didn't know, and that I definitely knew all the words to. I chose Eagle Eye Cherry's 'Save Tonight'. The title should have been a giveaway here. For those of you that don't know it, here's the chorus (Play the chorus - 'Save tonight, and fight the break of dawn, come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone'). However, I was that confident I knew all the words, I didn't bother to look at the screen and just sang. Turns out for the past ten years I've been singing 'Shave tonight, don't fight the beard at dawn, come tomorrow, stubble will be born'.
I love my music. It's certainly in my top five things in the world. Just above food, but below sport, my fiancé and sky plus. The last two alternate for top spot depending on her mood. Although now I think about it, women and sky plus have a few similarities. They both have a ridiculous memory, both have an in-built reminder system and both can be turned on by the push of a button.
I do love my fiancé though. We're getting married next year. They say planning a wedding is as stressful as starting a new job and moving house. I can't say I've been stressed out with the planning, but that might be because she's done it all. My input has been limited to deciding a short list of suits for her to choose between, helping to plan the stag-do and sorting out the wedding disco music. Like most blokes, I think I have an excellent taste in music. But, being the kind-hearted soul I am, I asked my fiancé for some songs she would like played on the evening. The vast majority of her choices have been vetoed. Michael Buble? No. Phil Collins? If Two Hearts gets played, by the end of the song only one of ours will be beating, and I can't promise which one. Eventually I've had to let her have one though, so I've gone for Starship's 'We built this city on rock and roll'. After all, that is a rock classic that everyone knows and loves. We can have a singalong to that. Who's ever been to a disco where everyone sings along to Micheal Buble for god's sake?
The only other thing I've got to do for the wedding is turn up on time. My mate's think this will be my hardest challenge, as I am literally never on time. It's got to the point where they have even told me we are meeting half an hour before we actually are so I turn up within the allotted 'ish' time. 'Ish' time, for those of you who don't know, is what guys say when they have no idea what time they are going to be there. 'Oi, Dave, what time we going down the pub later?' 'I'm not sure...say sevenish?' Cue both guys turning up at half 8.
My mates and I went to our usual pub quiz again last week. It's a bit of a strange pub quiz. No more than 4 in a team, £2 per person, one of which goes into a pot for any team getting full marks. The quizmaster, Bob, thought having this extra prize pot would allow a big prize to build up, as it's very rare that anyone gets full marks on a pub quiz. The prize was won twice in the first three weeks. Once a team had got full marks they then had to choose one member of their team to answer the bonus question to win the extra money. The bonus question was essentially like Don't Forget The Lyrics, where the music stops and they had to sing the next line. Bob took two teams winning in the first three weeks as a personal insult to his quiz, and proceeded to make the most difficult quizzes known to man. No one got full marks for two years, and the prize pot had reached a massive four grand. That was, until last week, when, by a complete fluke, my mates and I scored full marks. I know, I was gobsmacked too.
I got sent up to do the bonus round. Bob said he was going to be fair, and pick a song at random off his iPod and start it near the chorus. And this is what came out. (Play the first part of the chorus of Starship's 'We built this city on Rock and Roll', stopping just before it launches into the name of the song). "Nick, this is the bit where you need to sing the next line...do you know it?" I turned to my mates, pulled up my collar, cocksure, brashy, thinking I was a cross between Elvis and Freddie Mercury. "Do I know it? Do I know it? Everyone knows it. It's a seventies classic. A bastion of rock. It's on my wedding disco playlist. Boys, get the drinks in. Sod it, get a bottle of champagne, we're celebrating...I don't care if none of us like champagne, we're celebrating. Get four lager chasers as well. Yes, I know it. Play it again Sam." (plays the song chorus again) I took a deep breath in, I was going to milk the limelight for as long as possible. I then belted out "We built this city...on sausage rolls!"
Thank you for reading (if you have!) and please feel free to comment.
Nick