Greg Davies: You Magnificent Beast

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1

Now I'm not trying to be rude

But, hey, pretty girl, I'm feeling you

The way you do the things you do

Reminds me of my Lexus Coupe

Baby, give me that toot-toot

Let me give you that beep-beep

Running my hands through my 'fro

Bouncing on 24s

It's the remix to "Ignition"

Hot and fresh out the kitchen

Mama rolling that body

Got every man in here wishin'

Sippin' on coke and rum

I'm like, "So what? I'm drunk

It's the freakin' weekend, baby

I'm about to have me some fun

It's always good

to start a television special

with a joke that you'll never be able

to air, isn't it?

-[laughs] So--

-[woman] I want you to have my baby!

Eh?

[woman] Will you have my baby?

Will I have your babies?

Gut instinct says no.

Definitely no. It's definitely no.

I have a system for stand up.

My system is, I go home to Shropshire,

where I'm from,

with a notepad and a pen,

and I wait for my parents

to say weird sh*t.

Then I come and tell you.

That's my system. Right?

I had some problems this time.

Problem number one...

About three years ago,

my dad, very selfishly, died.

You're pissed off.

I had three shows left in him.

Problem number two...

My mom pulled me to one side

when she heard I was gonna do a new show.

And she went, "I don't want you

to talk about me anymore."

And I went, "What?!"

She said, "I want you to stop

talking about me onstage."

I went, "Why?" She goes,

"You've had two shows out of me.

You've humiliated me on stages

all around the country.

Honestly, I think you've

had your money's worth."

And she's right, ladies and gentlemen.

I have. I've made thousands.

Thousands out of her.

So I stood there, going, "Sh*t!

What the f*** am I gonna talk about?"

Anyway, then she changed the subject.

And this is what she said...

She said, "Have you been watching any

of that Oscar Pistorius retrial?"

I went, "Here we go.

All right. No, mom, I haven't. Why?"

She goes, "You haven't watched any?"

I said,

"I think I read a little about it."

She goes, "What do you think?"

I went, "What do you mean?"

-She said, "Do you think he did it?"

-I said, "He did do it."

She says, "I know he did.

Do you think you meant to do it?"

I went, "Well...

I'm not sure why we're

talking about this, oldlady,

but if you want my opinion, yeah,

he lost his temper and he shot her."

She went, "That's what I think. Yeah."

Then she said two things.

"Now, I want you to tell

me if you were in my position,

would you break a promise you've made

to your 77-year-old mother?"

'Cause they're both f***ing astonishing.

Bearing in mind that Oscar Pistorius

shot his girlfriend to death...

Even the build up is hilarious.

She said, this..

"That silly lad. [laughing]

What a tyke.What a little tinker."

Then she followed it up

with the all-time classic.

"He had the world at his feet."

He f***ing didn't, did he?

I said, "Don't expect me not

to use that onstage, old woman.

It's gold!"

Recently...

she said the worst sentence

that anyone's ever said to me.

Imagine that in my business.

We went for a meal.

We went for a steak together.

I can't speak for the other

middle-aged people in the room,

but I find that

with every year that passes,

I have less and less

to look forward to in life.

So when I go for a meal...

I f***ing have it.

I am consuming it,

and I am consumed by it.

My world goes...

[mimics doors closing]

and I'm just... "Oh, yeah.

[imitates chewing]

Oh, that meat is cooked to perfection.

The futility of life...

I'd just briefly forgotten the futility

of life."

My mom's opposite me,

and since she's on her own,

it's a constant stream of bullshit

coming out of her mouth.

Largely about people I've never even met.

So I'm there going, "Oh, yeah.

"Oh, my knife just glides through it."

[imitating chattering]

"Oh, she had a stroke in Tesco.

She fell into the salad bar."

"I might just put my meat

into the peppercorn sauce."

"He's riddled with arthritis.

He can't even pick a cup up."

"I might put a chip with the meat.

Just have the combination

of the potato and the meat."

"You should see what they've done

with the town hall. Multicultural mural."

I was on total food lockdown.

I didn't hear a word she said.

Then something just slipped

through my radar just very briefly.

And I couldn't quite let it go.

I was just... [chewing]

"I'll just put some sweet corn

on the end of my fork."

"Christine said to me,'We should both

get one of those rabbits.'"

"Just have some broccoli for health."

I couldn't quite let it go.

Do you know what I mean?

It kept racing around my mind.

I found myself going, "That's strange.

Why would they be buying a pet

at their age?"

"Christine said,

'I don't mind ordering them,

but they're coming to your house.'"

I went, "All right, what the f***?

Are you talking about d*ldos?"

She went, "Yes."

I went, "Why? I'm your son."

She said, "I thought you'd find it funny."

"Funny? The idea of you two hammering away

at yourselves?"

I may have done this show

in my hometown last week.

Mom saw it. Suitably mortified.

"Oh, disgusting!

Absolutely disgusting."

She sent me a text the next day,

which I'm gonna keep on my phone

for the rest of my life. Wanna see it?

Have a look.

"Hello, love.

I'd prefer it if you wouldn't

do that vibrator routine in your show.

When you ignore this and do it anyway,

at least make it clear to your audiences

that neither Christine or myself

have ever bought or used a sex aid."

Contract fulfilled, old woman.

But it must have got to me,

'cause I found myself thinking,

"I wonder if there's something nice

I can tell everyone.

A nice story I can tell about my mom

to take away the taste of the filth,

you know?"

So I found myself going, "Oh, let me see."

And I thought of something.

When I was eight years of age,

just eight,

I was gonna say little Greg,

but I was a freak of nature then, as well.

Not the six-foot-eight monstrosity

you see before you,

but I was still disgustingly long.

I went past Clinton Cards,

which if you don't know the shop,

it's for people with no taste, largely.

Bankrupt.

And stringy old eight-year-old Greg,

skipped past Clinton Cards

and there was a bear in the window,

three-foot tall.

And I remember going,

"If only I could have that.

That toy, that...

long toy for a long boy."

I said to my mom, "I've seen

this giant bear, could I have it?"

She goes, "Well, we'll chat with Santa

and see what he says."

I go, "Okay."

A couple of days later,

she came back, and she went,

"I'm sorry, love.

I've spoken to Santa, and...

I'm afraid that bear is 75.

Santa can't afford it this year."

I thought, "That's a shame,

although Santa does appear

to be able to afford

quite a lot of f***ing cigarettes."

I was on to Santa.

I'd met him the year before.

I was sharing a room with my sister.

He came in.

His fag wasglowing in the dark.

He was clearly sh*t-faced.

When I said, "Hello, Santa," he told me

to piss off in a woman's voice.

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