The Super Bowl

I really missed out on American Football as a kid. My dad never took me to a game.

At school playtimes, while all the other kids were having fun, using jumpers for goalposts, putting on shoulder pads and crash helmets with walkie-talkies built into them, taking steroids and running into each other, I was getting sand kicked in my face, sitting in a corner, all alone with my guitar.

Then I had an idea. I talked the jocks into letting me do a half-time show.

People were sceptical. The first show was a real baptism of fire. My music wasn’t really connecting with anyone, but then in a blinding flash of inspiration, I got the idea of letting my clothes slip down during the gig.

Soon it was all over the school newspaper, and audiences to the game skyrocketed. Some said my half-time shows were more of an event than the games themselves. It got to the point where there was a lot of lunch money riding on what colour outfit I would wear, and at what minute of the performance my clothes would slip down.

These were good times. I got special treatment at the school tuck shop. The kids who were good at needlework all wanted me to wear their clothes. The kids running the lemonade stand wanted me to encourage the other kids to drink lemonade. Sure, I had my battles with weight, there was a lot of pressure, but it was pretty sweet.

Unfortunately, by the the time I got to secondary school, they only played soccer, cricket and rugby, and I looked like a right idiot trying to interrupt the games with my half-time shows. I couldn’t fit in. No matter how many times I “accidentally” let my nipple slip out.

I lost all my sponsorship deals. I don’t want your pity, so I won’t bore you with my struggle with chocolate. Suffice it to say, I’m down to two bars a day and I go to Chocoholics Anonymous meetings regularly.

In the interests of furthering Anglo-American relations, here’s me doing Jon Bon Jovi singing “My Old Man’s A Dustman”

PS. I would love it if you came to my show at the Leicester Comedy Festival on Valentine’s Day. I promise to keep my clothes on!

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s