Not Exactly a sketch but a first draft of a short story that I did a while ago - based around a comedy theme. Apologies if any have seen it before.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It's the way I tell 'em
As soon as I had done it I wished that I hadn't. But it was too late, the damage was done and I could see that by the look on MD's face that I was not about to be forgiven.
The evening had started fairly normally. I had arrived at the venue when they were all sitting down, tucking into the meal. The MD's PA had met me as I'd arrived in reception.
"Danny! Lovely to meet you" she'd smiled at me before showing me to the dressing room. I stayed there with a cup of coffee and a good book until, at ten she had knocked on my door and told me that they were ready for me. I looked in the mirror adjusted my tie and walked the 20 or so yards form the dressing room to the stage.
The MD of the company was at the mic and he saw me take up my position.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for Danny McKee!"
I walked on and started my act.
"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. It's lovely to be here at the Bracknell Hilton. You know it must be fascinating business, injection moulding, it reminds me of...
***
I generally don't enjoy corporate jobs that much. They're a bit dull and generally lack edge. Most of the punters are not really that keen on comedy, or if they are, then a company jolly doesn't make them all that receptive. You generally churn out a bit of topical stuff and add a few gags about the top brass, having first been primed by the organiser about what they are prepared to laugh about in front of their minions.
You then go on to big the company up before finishing your act, packing up and collecting the cheque, cash is better of course. Then it's the lonely drive home, the late sarnie and bottle of beer and trying to find something to watch on satellite at 3am.
But it was different that night.
***
About half way through my act I got the gun out and started to wave it around. That got their attention all right. There were some nervous giggles and some looks of genuine alarm. Somebody got up and tried to leave.
"Sit down or I'll shoot!" I shouted, my voice booming out from the PA.
The guy who had stood up sat down quickly, knocking over a bottle of wine in his haste. You could see it in their faces. They were unsure if this was real or a bluff. But I had the mic. I was in charge and for whatever reason nobody was going to take a chance. Maybe I was just giving an Oscar-winning performance. I had them in the palm of my hand now.
"He's bluffing it's a replica" somebody shouted.
"I don't think so my friend. Are you feeling lucky punk?" I'd always wanted to say that. I pointed the gun towards the heckler and he ducked below his table.
I then carried on with my act telling all my usual gags. It went better than normal. Each joke was rewarded with a howl of sycophantic laughter, whilst all the time I waved the gun around in a threatening manner. I immediately began to appreciate the advantages of a double act. The gun and me were going down a storm.
Looking out from the stage people seemed to be unsure what was happening, some looked frightened and others bemused. But still no heroes out there.
I decided to move to the climax of the performance.
"You know ladies and gentlemen, there's an old saying about the tears of a clown. I wonder if you've heard of it?" I paused. You could have heard a pin drop.
"Well this particular clown has shed a few. I'm in a bad way ladies and gents. Oh yes. My girlfriend's left me and I can't make ends meet as a comedian".
"Not bloody surprised with an act like that" somebody had risked a heckle.
I nearly smiled but just held it together.
"There's also a showbiz expression about dying on stage. Well ladies and gentlemen, you can always tell your friends about the night you saw Danny McKee die on stage"
I dropped to my knees and held the gun a few inches away from my temple.
"Goodbye cruel world" I said. A bit hammy but it seemed to fit the moment.
I squeezed the trigger. There were screams from the audience. The little square of material sprung out of the barrel of the gun before unfurling to reveal the word "bang".
All hell broke loose.
I was grabbed by a couple of guys and knocked to the ground. The MD of the company bent down and whispered in my ear. He didn't want to make a scene he said, but he had failed to notice that there already was one.
"The police will be here to deal with you soon. You idiot!" He snarled.
"Still you gotta laugh. Any chance of cash instead of a cheque?" I asked him.
