Chris Moyles' Comedy Empire Page #6

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she entered a comedy contest

called the Hackney Empire

New Act Competition.

Ten years ago. She's back tonight

to find out if she's won.

Ladies and gentlemen,

it's Ava Vidal.

Hello. Thanks, Chris,

no, I didn't win.

I did work with Michael Mclntyre,

I did the Michael Mclntyre Show,

and that led to nothing.

It's one of those things you do

and your friends

get more excited than you do.

My friend's like,

"My God, you did Mclntyre's show.

"Have things changed?" I'm like,

"Yeah, for Mclntyre, not for me!

He actually sold out the O2 Arena

over five nights.

That's huge, selling out the O2.

Just last week,

O2 refused to give me

a contract phone, so...

Ten years in, this is how it's going.

Doing that show got me into a lot of

problems with my family,

with my daughter.

My daughter was very angry with me

for speaking about her.

The thing is, my daughter's nearly

18-years-old now.

And you know when you meet people

in life that are f***ed up,

and you're like, "What happened

to you?" They go, "My parents!"

Because my daughter's 18,

I just want her to go.

But I'm worried because I don't want

her out in the world,

slagging me off, so I thought I'd get

a little disclaimer going.

I sat down and went, "Listen, do you

think I've been a good mother?"

And she said, "No." I said,

"Why?" And she goes,

"You're an idiot.

You're embarrassing.

"You go on TV

telling stupid jokes about me.

"You went on TV and you told people

"that I was fat."

Now, I did do that!

Hilarious!

She doesn't see it that way.

But it amazes me...

it amazes me how many people

actually believe me.

I had people that e-mail me

to this day and go, "Hi, Ava.

"How are you?

How's your fat daughter?"

If my daughter was fat, I would not

go on TV and say it.

If my daughter was fat, I wouldn't

keep her. It wouldn't be an issue.

So I said to her,

"What's it going to take

"for you to get over it?" She goes,

"I won't get over it.

"You're a liar!" Blah-blah.

I was like, "Please, just tell

me something."

What she actually did was

she went out and got some

professional photographs taken

and blown up to poster size,

and I was going away to do some shows

and she handed me

this envelope and I looked

in it and went, "What's this?"

She went, "Here, Mum.

Take these to your gigs.

"Show the people."

I was like, "Baby, I will, I will!"

I won't.

Because she's not fat, but, ohh,

she's f***ing ugly

and there's no need...

No need to put innocents

through that.

I have another child who's

now upset. I've got a son.

I've a 13-year-old son

and he's really quite angry.

He's like, "You go on TV and talk

about my sister.

"You don't talk about me. People

don't even know you got two kids."

I'm like, "No, I make that

quite clear.

"I've always said in my comedy

I've got two children..."

"..that I know of!"

Yeah!

That was unnecessary. I actually saw

a male comedian do that once.

I thought it was cool.

Just realised it doesn't work

the other way round, so...

I'm going to stop doing it.

Listen, you've been fantastic.

I've been Ava Vidal.

Thank you very much. Good night.

Ava Vidal, ladies and gentlemen.

All right.

We're going to go for it, OK?

The next act might be a bit of a

whirlwind. Please strap yourself in.

If you're sitting at home, remove

any hot drinks away from your lap.

Ladies and gentlemen, go crazy nuts.

It's Mr Jason Byrne!

Oh...

Hello!

Holy sh*t! I am Irish.

Irish people here? "Yay!" OK.

Thank you!

Open the ceiling near the bars,

well done, that's good.

But anyway, I have got a mammy and...

You call them mammies here, yeah?

Do you call... Oh, my God,

the atmosphere in here

is f***ing electric, isn't it?

"Do you call them mammy?" "Yeah,

we call them mammies, JUST MOVE ON!"

"We need to do the wee-wees, Jason,

we need to do the wee-wees!"

Now I have a mammy, all right?

They're unbeliev... They're so

important. They're amazing.

Cos when I was a kid,

it was unbelievable.

When you were in a house growing up

in the '70s and the '80s, right,

it was your father

that you were terrified of, right?

Cos he was the big, loud fella

with the huge fists, right,

that's the guy you were

frightened of, yeah?

But he never, ever

laid a finger on you.

It was the mad b*tch dwarf

that beat the sh*t out of you.

Chasing you around the house.

You making it worse by laughing

as she chased you, just going,

"Ha-ha-ha-ha!

"Get away from me, you mad b*tch!"

And she said the same thing

every time.

She'd grab a hold of you and go,

"Wait till your father gets home,

"he's going to kill you, kill you,

your father is going to kill you!

"Put your leg across the table.

You're dead when he comes in!"

She's only this size! Terrifying.

And do you know what she did, cos

young people won't even get this...

She used to take off her slipper...

You have slippers here, yeah?

Anyway, right.

She'd take off her slipper.

But in the '70s and the '80s,

it wasn't a soft shoe.

Cos women in those days

had a kind of a weird sandal

that squashed their toes up

all miserable and horrible.

And it had a hard cork shell

on the end of it, right.

Like if mothers weren't

miserable enough,

they had to walk around

in these horrible shoes.

Trying to carry 14 bags of shopping.

The hate is unbelievable inside them.

They're unreal. So my mum, right...

You'd just be sitting watching

the telly and you'd say something,

and she'd take off her shoe

and just throw it at your head.

That's illegal now, yeah?

You'd be sitting there

with half your head open.

And your mother would look at you

and say the most scary thing ever.

She'd go, "Bring it back."

"WHAT?!"

"Bring it back.

Pick it up and bring it over here."

You'd have to pick up the slipper and

bring it over to her very slightly.

Be like handing a psychopath

a shotgun. "Just bring it in."

Just lift it in like that,

just give it to her. Because you

knew what was going to happen.

Cos she'd go, "I won't hit you,

I won't hit you."

And you'd give her the slipper

and she'd go, "Run! RUN!"

"Zigzag! Zigzag! Make it gamey!

Make it gamey, you little sh*t!

"Make it gamey!"

And then, when your father arrived in

in the car after work,

up the drive, she went ballistic.

"Here he is!

"Here he is!"

"You're dead now. You're dead!

Your father's home!

"He's going to kill you! You're dead.

Where's me flamethrower?!"

"YOU'RE DEAD!"

Your dad would walk into the room,

the newspaper under his arm.

"What the...?"

You're sitting on the couch with your

brothers and sisters, all bruised.

Bits of hair missing, clothes torn.

"Mum said you were going to kill us."

But he didn't do anything.

Your dad didn't care.

He just walked straight past you,

went to the toilet

and had a sh*t. Right?

Cos that's what your dad's job was

- Working and pooing.

That's what he did.

And it's...

It's great, cos I've got kids.

How many people have got kids?

Seven. Right.

I love the British,

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