Jim Jefferies: This Is Me Now Page #5

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He goes, "Drew a picture,"

and I'm like, "F***, this is a long meal."

Anyway, so I make him the chicken,

I make him the apples,

and then I take him upstairs

for bedtime at 8:30,

and he has a bath and I wash his hair

and I put him in some pajamas,

and he's all fresh and clean.

I put him in the bed,

I sing him the same song every day.

And then I read him a story

and I wait till he falls asleep

and then I go downstairs and watch TV.

And then about two hours later,

about 10:
30,

I just hear screaming, just...

I run up the f***ing stairs,

I get up there, he's covered in vomit.

He's vomited all over.

He's got vomit through his f***ing hair.

I pick him up, he's shitting.

Right, he's shitting and vomiting onto me.

So he's vomiting onto me,

but he's shitting

in front of where I'm walking.

So I'm walking through sh*t

as vomit's coming onto me.

I put him on the toilet.

I get him a bucket.

He is now shitting

and vomiting simultaneously.

Now,

maybe I didn't cook

that chicken long enough.

Anyway...

So he's just sitting there.

He's never had food poisoning before.

I had the same meal.

The little c*nt's just got

a weak constitution. Anyway, so...

He's sitting there shitting and vomiting

at the same time.

The poor little fella, 'cause he's four,

his brain doesn't compute

that this won't go on forever.

He actually looked at me,

shitting and vomiting,

he looks at me and goes,

"I guess this is me now."

I'm just laughing like,

"You'll be all right, fella.

You'll be all right."

Anyway, this goes on for a couple hours,

where it's about midnight now.

He's empty.

Everything's out of his body.

I give him another bath,

and I wash him off,

and I wash all the vomit

out of his hair,

and I put him in some new pajamas,

and I say, "Come sleep in my bed, mate.

Everything's going to be all right."

And he sleeps in my bed,

and I pat his back until he goes to sleep.

And then I go to sleep.

And then two hours later,

I sh*t the bed.

Now...

this wasn't like...

like I woke up with cramps and went...

And then I sh*t the bed.

No, the sh*t and the waking up

was a simultaneous thing.

I was lying there, and went...

He's fast asleep,

and I just sh*t the bed

next to a four-year-old.

Which I assume is a crime.

I've never felt so sick, and I get out,

and I'm in my underwear,

there's just sh*t pouring down my thighs,

and I'm like...

And I vomit on the floor,

and I'm walking through my own vomit,

and I'm shitting onto the vomit,

and I make it all the way to my toilet...

and I sit there and I'm shitting...

I didn't have a bucket,

so I'm just vomiting

into the f***ing bathtub,

and shitting,

and I actually said out loud,

"I guess this is me now!"

Now, I'm there for a couple of hours.

I've taken all my clothes off,

so now it's, like, five in the morning...

and I'm f***ing naked,

just still shitting and vomiting.

And my son wakes up.

He's feeling fresh as a daisy.

He comes in, his pajamas all clean,

his hair's all fluffy, he walks in.

Holding his teddy,

he walks around the pile

of sh*t and vomit.

He walks in to see his father

shitting and vomiting on the toilet.

He looks at me and goes,

"We had a tough night, didn't we, Dad?"

Now...

I'm gonna tell you a story.

Now, this story happened...

uh...

about a year and a half ago.

I got booked to do a private party

with a very famous...

American singer.

And I signed a contract to say

that I would never say who booked me,

how much I was paid,

or who was at the party.

But then I've just been telling people,

and nothing's happened, so...

So it's... Mariah Carey. Now...

I get a phone call

from her management one day,

and they say,

"Mariah Carey's a massive fan of yours."

And I said, "No, she's not."

They go, "How do you know?"

I said, "I don't know the woman.

I've never met her.

But I know this. There is no scenario

where Mariah Carey finishes a concert,

goes home, pours herself a bath,

lights a few candles,

and goes, 'Put on a bit of Jim Jefferies.'

And then sits there splashing around,

going, 'Women are c*nts!'

No."

I said, "She's not a fan."

So they ring back and they go...

Her fiance at the time...

"Her fiance, James Packer, is a fan."

Now, James Packer is a very famous

Australian billionaire.

And she wanted to purchase me

for his 50th birthday

as a gift, right?

Already weird, to be a human gift.

But I guess that's

what you buy billionaires.

You can't buy them materialistic things,

'cause they can purchase

whatever they want.

You buy them

other human beings doing tricks.

So they ring me up, and they go...

They go, "$15,000, 15 minutes.

You just gotta perform at a dinner party.

She lives half a mile away from you.

Easy-peasy.

And I said to my manager, Alex,

I said, "Alex, that sounds

f***ing horrible.

I'm not gonna do that."

And he rings back up ten minutes later,

"$30,000...

15 minutes."

And I said, "Alex...

I'm an artist."

"I never let money make decisions for me."

Now, I think we all know

where this is headed.

They rang back, "$60,000, 12 minutes,"

and I was like,

"F*** it, what's your address?"

So three weeks later...

So for three weeks

I was just dreading this gig,

and then three weeks later, it's like,

all right, I show up at the house.

I'm there in the middle of summer.

I'm wearing a leather jacket

and f***ing T-shirt,

I'm sweating my ass off,

and I'm there with my manager, Alex,

and someone...

Mariah's assistant opens the door,

and goes,

"Which one of you is Jim Jefferies?"

I'm like...

The f***ing career is crushing it,

obviously.

Uh...

I said, "That's me," and she goes,

"We've been waiting for you,"

and she goes, "You're not to be seen.

You're a surprise."

And I get into the house, she's like,

"Oh! Take your shoes off!"

Mariah's one of those c*nts.

Soon as you enter your house,

you gotta feel uncomfortable,

take your f***ing shoes off.

I don't know if we have any of those

Nazi f***ing pricks in this room,

but you've lost

a lot of friends over this,

you f***ing lowlife c*nts.

Anyway...

So I take my shoes off.

I'm the birthday surprise,

so no one's to see me,

so they secretly get me into the kitchen.

So I go into the kitchen.

I'm sitting there, and then they give me

some rich people food,

which is the same as poor people food

but has truffles on it.

I'm sitting there eating

my f***ing truffley food...

I look at my manager, like, "I shouldn't

be here. It's the worst idea I ever had."

- I shouldn't do this."

- He's like, "It's going to be fine.

It'll be great. You'll do great."

At that stage,

Eddie Murphy walks into the kitchen.

Now, Eddie Murphy,

and I want this on film,

is my childhood f***ing hero.

Delirious was such a big deal to me.

And was the reason

that I tell these big long stories.

He was the first comic I saw

who told long stories.

Anyway, I'm gonna do

a terrible impersonation,

but Eddie Murphy walks up

to one of the catering people,

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