Greg Davies: You Magnificent Beast Page #5

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"You come get me."

"Yes, I did. I'm worried about you.

Please come in." She went... [grunts]

"I'm not going anywhere.

Not until you give me a little kiss."

And I went... [gasps]

And I just... [kisses]

I just gave her a peck.

She whipped her face around.

And even in that second...

I got to find out that even her tongue

was muscular.

Like being pistol-whipped by a dry eel.

And I talked her into coming in.

She went... [grunts]

She went to the toilet.

As soon as she'd gone to the toilet,

I ran upstairs.

I went into the first empty bedroom

I could find.

I got onto the duvet

and tried to make myself flat.

She was gone for ages.

With the wisdom of hindsight,

I think she'd been for a sh*t

and realized there was no toilet paper.

And I lay there...

motionless...

and then I heard the footsteps again.

"Where have you gone?

Ooh!

I can see your big fat tummy."

And then she came...

She got under the duvet.

She started ferreting around

and the duvet...

came away from my face,

and that's when I realized

for the first time

that the whole ceiling in that place

was one mirror.

It was. I saw myself revealed...

when the duvet fell away.

I was tired.

I was exhausted.

I lost the will to fight.

And the last thing I saw that night,

ladies and gentlemen,

reflected in the ceiling,

was my own flaccid penis being masturbated

by two bloodied stumps.

I guess what I'm saying is,

not all love stories

are gonna go down in history, are they?

Let's have another quote.

"Every child is an artist."

Picasso allegedly said that.

"Every child is an--"

Who's got young children here?

Honestly, what's their art like?

It's f***ing sh*t, isn't it?

I've got two nieces,

seven and nine years of age.

I love them dearly,

but their art is f***ing appalling.

"What's that?"

"It's a house." "Is it?"

"Who's that next to it?""The owner."

"Really? Why are they the same height?"

"It's called perspective, dipshit."

That's okay, they're children.

It's okay for children to make mistakes.

It's okay for children to be sh*t,

because they'll either get good,

or they'll find out they're sh*t.

What worries me a little more is

when adults try

and kid themselvesabout something.

When I was still teaching,

we had a guest speaker come to the school.

It was the ex-World Champion boxer

Chris Eubank.

You may recognize him.

Okay.

Okay, I'm just gonna explain something

to people who don't realize.

There are some people in this room

who think I can't do

a good Chris Eubank impression.

Those people are about

to be provedextremely wrong.

Chris came in,

and he spoke to the children

for-- ready? Three and a half hours.

Three and a half hours of...

"Yes, the thing is...

The thing is...

when I was a pugilist...

I would apply myselfwith the vigor

of a lion."

He was amazing, you know.

He walked up and down the front

like this.

The kids were sat out as you are.

He walked up and down

for three and a half hours going,

"It doesn't matter

what you decide you want to be...

You want to be an architect

or whatever it is that you desire..."

But he had a little trick up his sleeve.

He'd written some poems.

Original poems, which is interesting.

And this is how he delivered them.

"You must...

Sometimes I would train

for 12 to 14 hours.

And when you decide

what it is you want to do,

I would urge you to remember this...

always look at the man in the mirror

and ask what you want him to be.

'Cause the man in the mirror

is not just you.

The man in the mirror is me."

And as this lady will testify to,

it scared the sh*t out of the children.

Admittedly,

Chris' tits weren't as sweaty as mine.

And unlike me...

Chris didn't inhale your hair.

[laughs]

Why not, though?

I've met Chris a few times.

He's a lovely bloke.

Why not try some poetry out?

I don't want to be cynical.

I would argue that perhaps Chris

isn't gonna be remembered as a poet.

But he is gonna be remembered

as a great boxer,

so he's got something covered there,

but self-delusion can get dangerous.

I was in a taxi again in London.

It was driven by a Londoner

with a thick London accent.

He was one of those Cockneys

who could get you

whatever you want in life.

He was like, "Yeah, yeah.

What do you need?

A zebra? No problem. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Yeah, I know a bloke in Rumford.

He's got a lock up full

of the stripy c*nts.

Can't shift them.

They're like weird horses, aren't they?

They're like weird horses."

I was not in the mood for a chat,

and he was a chatty taxi driver.

I was sitting there going,

"Please don't talk."

And he was like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Then he said that thing you dread

from some taxi drivers.

He went, "Yeah, 'cause of course...

I wasn't always in this game."

And I went, "Ah, f***.

A life story."

I was always gonna talk to him.

I've got manners.

I was raised well by the woman

whose teddy I f***ed.

So I now, "Go on,

what did you used to do?"

He goes, "I used to be

in the old music game, as it goes."

I went, "Uh-huh. Yeah.

What did you used to do?"

He goes, "I was a bass player."

I went, "Right.

Any bands I might have heard of?"

He goes, "Yeah, maybe. Yeah, maybe."

I went, "Go on."

He goes, "For a long time I was in A-ha."

"You were in A-ha?"

"Yeah, I was in A-ha."

"A-ha? 'Take on Me', A-ha?"

"Yeah. 'Take on Me', A-ha.

From Norway, yeah."

I went, "You weren't in A-ha, mate."

He goes, "I was with them for years."

I went, "Mate! I know who A-ha are.

They're Mags, Pl... and Morten."

"Yeah, yeah."

"There was no you in A-ha."

He goes, "Yeah, yeah, I was."

And it f***ing pissed me off.

I'm in a bad mood, and I've

got a f***ing Cockney taxi driver

telling me he was in A-ha.

I started playing the scenario in my mind

of Morten and the boys...

"Yeah, boys, we don't appear

to have a bass player."

It's not just Eubank I do, my friends.

"Oh, dear boys."

F*** you. I'll do all three of them.

"Oh, dear.

We don't appear to have a bass player.

Do we, Pl?"

"No, we don't.

We haven't got a bass player."

"Oh, no. We need one, don't we?"

"Why don't you ask Mags."

"Mags?" "Yes."

"We were just saying we need a..."

"We do need a bass player."

"Well, what shall we do?"

"Well, we have got some options."

Amazing, isn't it?

Amazing I'm still doing it,

but I am gonna carry on.

"Yes."

"What are our options?"

"Well...

We could go to a music school here

in Norway

where we could ask for a bass player.

Yes.

Or... or... or...

we could get three flights,

go to London

and ask a f***ing taxi driver."

It's bullshit.

It's bullshit.

If you don't like your job,

change your job.

Don't tell tired, grumpy people

you used to be in f***ing A-ha.

I couldn't stop thinking about it,

I was so wound up.

I went and watched the video

for "The Sun Always Shines on TV."

Now, here's the thing...

It was him.

What are the f***ing chances?

It really was.

Some people manage to...

put out a positive...

impression of themselves really easily,

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