autobiography (one night of, at least)

Fear. It was fear that drove me to my ‘performance’ that night. Whether I like it or not (and I didn’t) I admit that it was fear. The night in question, Saturday June 10 2000, was notable for a number of facts. The most significant of these, for obvious personal reasons, was that it was the final night before my adulthood. At seventeen years, fifty-one weeks and six days old, I was due to officially leave my childhood.
Another important factor in the story that I am about to tell is that, in order to commemorate eighteen years since my birth, I was in the middle of throwing a party. This party was set in my own house, and had been going since about two in the afternoon. The rough time that things began to get interesting though was eleven o’clock at night, but first, perhaps a little context.
My day had been spent drinking interesting concoctions of alcohol invented by a group of people that I accidentally call ‘friends’, and wandering about my house checking that everything was going swimmingly and all were generally having a good time.
By mid-evening though, I mistakenly stopped drinking, and subsequently sobered up to a degree that many onlookers would simply label sober, but which I would describe more as ‘confused’. This is to say that I was far from drunk, yet retained such annoying side effects as forgetfulness, dizziness and general insanity (thus confusion).
As the time approached eleven, it became apparent that people were acting very strangely indeed, yet at the time I recall thinking very little of it- something which I also label under the category of ‘mistake’. Before I had had time to analyse the faces looking at me as I was dragged into the living room, I realised that I had entered a home-made arena similar to a circus, and that I, perhaps unsurprisingly given the circumstances, was the main attraction.
Gathered around me, in an assortment of places, were my friends, tittering amongst themselves as I stood like a rabbit caught in the headlights. It was at this point that little things during the day that I had noticed as ‘strange’ began to fall into place, as through the door walked a birthday present from a group of friends. The present came in a police officer’s uniform and imitated an American accent. It (or rather ‘she’) was a strip-o-gram.
As I gave an ironic and rueful smile at the situation that I found myself in, the show began. It was soon after this that the smile was replaced with sweat, as I realised that I was expected to join in the undressing game- something that I was not incredibly excited about the thought of. The reason for this was simple; I had realised that within a five-metre radius of where I was stood sat about thirty of my friends. They were also laughing. A lot.
The show consisted of many predictable activities, yet the first thing that I feel should be reported at this stage is that prior to the event, a whip-round had commenced. This whip-round was performed in order that my new friend Karina (for that was her name) could reveal a small amount more than was at first anticipated. Imagine my surprise as she bent over in front of me, and disposed of that tiny last piece of clothing, and I was confronted with a piercing in a rather unusual place…
She then proceeded to discuss said piercing with a girl who I don’t remember having met (let alone invited), while I stood like a stewed prune awaiting my imminent embarrassment. As I grew impatient, I politely reminded her that it was she now who was wasting time as she had similarly done to me just minutes earlier when she was removing my T-shirt. As soon as I had mentioned this, a surge of regret was sent through my body as my trousers were swiftly removed and I was stood in my boxer shorts awaiting, with possibly the most fear that I have ever experienced, the next step.
The next step, however, did not arrive, but instead my boxer shorts (fortunately a clean pair) were pulled up to my armpits with the venom of a cobra and my friends were introduced to my behind. Now my behind is not the sort of thing that should be discussed in polite conversation, so without dwelling on the matter, all present had another, no more feeble, laugh at my expense.
The next few moments were certainly not for the faint hearted, as I was subjected to random acts of torture, all of which seemed to me to be perfectly suited to a fourteenth century dungeon. The first of these involved baby-oil. And me… Renewed with a false sense of vitality and power as I became covered in this slippery substance, I momentarily and mistakenly became Arnold Schwarzenegger, posing and tensing my (almost) rippling torso until I was woken from my dream by an unimpressed look from Karina. I meekly returned to the gutter where I attempted to spend the rest of the act.
Unfortunately, the gutter was not deep enough, and I was dragged up kicking and screaming only to be thrown to the ground once more in an obvious display of a strip-o-gram attempting to assert some much needed authority and control upon the situation. She then underlined this point by spinning me round and handcuffing my hands behind my back, unimpressed by my wails as the carpet attacked my knees.
Soon enough though, I was up on my feet again and bent over, once more displaying my (slightly) toned rear to all and sundry. This time though, matters became rather sore, as I was subjected to a cheek-reddening flogging direct from the leather belt of a regret-filled friend. Indeed the look on his face was more than enough to appease me in my hour of need. Yes, that’s right, no greater sadism was experienced than then, as I let out cries which varied from true pain, through comedy yells, to shouts of “again” as the experience ground to a halt.
Just in case my cheeks were not red enough by this stage in proceedings, Karina then decided to put her scarlet lipstick to the test upon my raw seat by drawing a beautiful pair of lips and a kiss upon my left cheek. Unfortunately, by the time I had remembered to inspect her artwork, all that remained was a blurred cloud of red, which took hours of scrubbing to remove. Throughout this flannel destroying period though, I felt great distress at the thought of Karina’s talent being wasted as a stripper, and that hers was certainly not a smudge-proof brand.
The next ‘game’ that we flirted with, was perhaps the archetypal strip-o-gram routine. It was a routine so distinctly recognisable that I need only mention two words to grasp your undivided attention and build an entire picture of the ensuing scene. The words are ‘whipped’ and ‘cream’. This was certainly the point at which I was able to relax slightly, safe in the knowledge that all eyes would be fixed upon Karina’s body, and not mine.
Now I like whipped cream, but I have to admit that its appeal is somewhat diminished thanks to the lack of apple pie that came with it. Indeed, I actually felt rather ill at the prospect of having to consume the generously applied substance, but nevertheless headed straight for the cream in an attempt to please our impressionable audience. Sure enough, after great pain and tears on my part, the cream was gone, I was ill, and the audience was suitably pleased. It is at this point in my writing that I feel it imperative to add that at no point during the above routine did I enjoy myself. Not once. Honest.
After an amount of trivial Smalltalk (apparently it was someone’s birthday!) things were wrapped up and I was able to dress myself and look at least slightly presentable once more as the highlight of the day ended. Thankfully there were no photographs taken or incriminating evidence of any sort, the sole reminder of my brief encounter with hell being a garter now hanging seductively upon my television Ariel as a symbol of how lucky I am to have escaped alive.
Looking back on the time I am filled with embarrassment, as I think of all the viewers (not to mention the intimacy of the event) including my mother, hiding at the back of the room and laughing like her life depended on it. Another feeling that I get is one of pride that I did not show my fear, but combated it with innuendo and humour, something that I would be pushed to replicate again.
For many reasons, I also consider myself lucky. Lucky that my underwear remained firmly on, lucky that Karina was not a man (indeed, she was very attractive), and lucky that my birthday will be remembered by all those present, thanks to the entertainment that went into those long twenty minutes of anticipation as to Karina’s next move, and my own next reaction.

declaration of revocation of independence by John Cleese

This is the "DECLARATION OF REVOCATION OF INDEPENDENCE" written by John Cleese (Monty Python) at the day Bush won the elections.

To the citizens of the United States of America, in the light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give
notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today.

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories.

Except Utah, which she does not fancy.

Your new Prime Minister (The Right Honourable Tony Blair, MP for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a Minister for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded.

A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up "revocation" in the Oxford English Dictionary.

Then look up "aluminium." Check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.

The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour'; skipping the letter 'U' is nothing more than laziness on your part. Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters.

You will end your love affair with the letter 'Z'(pronounced 'zed' not 'zee') and the suffix "ize" will be replaced by the suffix "ise."

You will learn that the suffix 'burgh' is pronounced 'burra' e.g. Edinburgh. You are welcome to re-spell Pittsburgh as 'Pittsberg' if you can't cope with correct pronunciation.

Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up "vocabulary." Using the same thirty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "uhh", "like", and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.

Look up "interspersed."

There will be no more 'bleeps' in the Jerry Springer show. If you're not old enough to cope with bad language then you shouldn't have chat shows. When you learn to develop your vocabulary, then you won't have to use bad language as often.

2. There is no such thing as "US English." We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of "-ize."

3. You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents.
It really isn't that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney, upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier).

You will also have to learn how to understand regional accents ---
Scottish dramas such as "Taggart" will no longer be broadcast with subtitles.

While we're talking about regions, you must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in England. The name of the county is "Devon." If you persist in calling it Devonshire, all American States will become "shires" e.g. Texasshire, Floridashire, Louisianashire.

4. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as the good guys. Hollywood will be required to cast English actors to play English
characters.

British sit-coms such as "Men Behaving Badly" or "Red Dwarf" will not be re-cast and watered down for a wishy-washy American audience who can't cope with the humour of occasional political incorrectness.

5. You should relearn your original national anthem, "God Save The Queen", but only after fully carrying out task 1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through.

6. You should stop playing American "football." There is only one kind of football. What you refer to as American "football" is not a very good game.

The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your borders may have noticed that no one else plays "American" football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football.

Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American "football", but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies).

We are hoping to get together at least a US Rugby sevens side by 2005.

You should stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the 'World Series' for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.15% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls' game called "rounders," which is baseball without fancy team strip, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs.

7. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns. You will no onger be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because we don't believe you are sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you will require a permit if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

8. July 4th is no longer a public holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but only in England. It will be called "Indecisive Day."

9. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap, and it is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.

All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts. You will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

10. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call 'French fries' are not real chips. Fries aren't even French, they are Belgian though 97.85% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called "crisps." Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer which should be served warm and flat.

Waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

11. As a sign of penance 5 grams of sea salt per cup will be added to all tea made within the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this quantity to be doubled for tea made
within the city of Boston itself.

12. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling "beer" is not actually beer at all, it is lager.From November 1st only proper British Bitter will be referred to as "beer," and European brews of known and accepted provenance will
be referred to as "Lager." The substances formerly known as "American Beer" will henceforth be referred to as "Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine," with the exception of the
product of the American Budweiser company whose product will be referred to as "Weak Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine." This will allow true Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in the Czech Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion.

13. From November 10th the UK will harmonise petrol (or "gasoline," as you will be permitted to keep calling it until April 1st 2005) prices with the former USA. The UK will harmonise its prices to those of the former USA and the Former USA will, in return, adopt UK petrol prices (roughly $6/US gallon -- get used to it).

14. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns,lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent.Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun.

15. Please tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us crazy.

16. Tax collectors from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776).

Thank you for your co-operation.