Comedy
Englishmen are useless
Published 05 June 2008
Shazia's week: The card said he was a former West Indies cricketer. Did he think I looked like the type who'd want lessons?
The audacious behaviour of people these days is scaling new heights. A few nights ago, I was asked to compere an evening for charity. I walked into the exclusive venue, an old Victorian building with a floodlit car park that could have been a Bentley showroom. It promised to be a classy affair, with what looked like classy people to match. The event started at seven o’clock, and by quarter past, most of the 500 people there were totally inebriated.
It was a joy to watch. People in Britain really do love drinking - everywhere. Tubes, buses, charity functions - they'll go anywhere for a swig of Cobra. The staff at the venue were too frightened to tell the guests to curb their drinking, for fear of reprisals to the stained-glass windows, so they asked me to make an announcement: "The staff at this venue have advised that you keep drinking to a minimum." My words were met with dirty looks, sneering, and comments such as "Don't be such a miserable cow".
During the first interval I decided to take a break on one of the benches at the back. As I sat there, contemplating how I should be more selective in choosing what charities to support, a tall, handsome, black man strode up to me and, without saying a word, thrust a card into my lap; then he swiftly walked away. I picked up the card, which had all his details, and wondered what on earth I was meant to do with it. The card said he was a former West Indies international cricketer. Did he think I looked like the type who'd want lessons? I was bewildered.
I continued compering the gig, and then, in the next interval, he walked up to me and said: "Well, make sure you call me." He then grabbed my hand and turned it over. "Good, no wedding rings. Call me and then we can arrange for you to come to Kingston Town. You will love it there, and you will love me, too."
"You're a bit forward," I said.
"Yes, that's how it should be," he told me enthusiastically. "English men are useless. They beat around the bush and nothing gets done."
I thought: "You wait all year for one, then when it does come along, it's harassment gift-wrapped in seduction."
Of course, I didn't call him, and I certainly had no intention of eloping to Kingston Town with a former Windies international cricketer. I can't do things like that: my parents are still alive.
I Can Make You Rich
I can often look at an audience and forecast just how the gig will go. I am often right. The people here were worthy and conservative and, for a lot of them, the last comedian they had seen was probably Charlie Chaplin. Older members of this small, close-knit northern community didn't take kindly to my jokes about funerals being a waste of money and how everyone should be cremated in a pot to save a few pence. Consequently, I was marched out by a few members of the audience who suggested I go back to where I came from. Who said English men beat around the bush?
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