Posted on Saturday 31 May 2003
An email from a friend.
Hi, my name is I want my name changed.
I’m a stand up comedian who is trying to make it on the Irish comedy scene. It was comforting considering the crowd refused to clap me, apart from the diehards.. Since I’ve started on the rocky road of the comedy circle, I’ve experienced the whole spectrum: some great gigs and some horrible gigs. Just take one of my most recent gigs in Galway, Ireland. This gig was important because Ireland’s premier comedian Tommy Tiernan was MC for the night. The gig was a fundraiser for the Galway Rape Crisis Centre.A big gig on front of Ireland’s biggest star.

I was set for a real kick arse gig and had geared myself up in the toilet before hand. Everything seemed fine. The audience were primed for my juicy new material, which I had been working on for a about five minutes. I was confident my ad libbing would see me through with my new material. However, when I went on stage it just went down hill like a JCB carrying cement blocks. What happened next? Well basically I hadn’t taking into consideration the offence that would be caused by doing a repotoire of DICK JOKES. This comedy hole was reaching the earth’s core. It was soon gonna get really really hot. I decided to get to know the people in the audience a bit personal by telling them about my little ailment. Better known as the itchy bottom syndrome. Yes, I had worms on stage. So, I apologised for my nervous disposition. I then talked about how Sister Paul used to check me for them when I was kid. I wondered could she have raped me of my problem. Where were the rape councillors when I needed them. A guy in the audience didn’t like it, said it wasn’t funny. I said it wasn’t meant to be it was itchy.
Then the dick jokes hit in with a bang. I told them how great it was to be back in Galway on the fourth anniversary of my bilingual blow job, which was half in Irish and half in English. I even improvised on stage. They didn’t like it. I then moved on to talking about the best way of getting over male impotency. Yes, watching fat Irish girls playing “camoige” the male version of Ireland’s native sport hurling. A guy in the audience at that point lost it and said “You’re shit: get off”. It was the biggest insult I had ever received in my short comedy career. I had to come back with something decent. I told him he must have the best memory in the place. Why so? Well wasn’t that what your mother said to the doctor when you were delivered. He’s shit get off. Doctor cut the umbilical chord. This piece of slime is weighing me down. The hating started with a vengence. I guess these people had beeen raped on too many times. The next guy started on me. Again I was courteous to him and asked him what he had for breakfast? He said corn flakes. I then asked him why he decided to use his grannies piss instead of milk. I can smell your breath from here.
But it gets worse. His girlfriend then decided she would stand by her man by insulting my looks and clothes. Love, with a head like yours I wouln’t worry about getting raped tonight. The rape cris people were baying for my blood, but the tourists by the bar were in stitches. My exit was similar to a football player being sent off at the away teams ground. It dealt my confidence a severe blow. However, Tommy Tiernan said some nice things about me. Ya like how I worked part-time for the Rape Crisis Centre, as a telephone conseullor.
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