They came. They watched. They laughed 'til their sides ached. What a relief!
It was a huge success. The Village Hall was crammed with people. I don't think they've had more in it since the 1978 Blue Peter Jumble Sale when there was a rumour that the glamorous wife of a wealthy chap, who were widely rumoured to be the hub of the local swingers and host of numerous car-key swapping parties, had donated some of her lingerie to the event which almost resulted in the riot police being called when 2 members of the rival WI and 8 O'Clock Club both got hold of seperate ends of the same baby-doll nightie. Our audience were much better behaved, cheerfully putting their hands in their pockets and donating a whopping 2.2K (My pound sign has disappeared since my keyboard decided to naturalize as an American citizen and moved everything around, anyone know where I might be able to find it)?
We locked up shortly after midnight, tired but thoroughly pleased with ourselves, vowing it would henceforth be an annual event. We returned this morning to help carry the tables and chairs that we had borrowed from the chapel. The Friendship Club, a weekly gathering of desiccated do-gooders, was already in residence. We did not get the warm, friendly welcome and hot cross buns that was advertised on their board. The decidedly unfriendly harridan that appeared to be the ring-leader instead offered up a 5 minute long diatribe on the state of the kitchen. We had heinously left a couple of tea towels on the worktop to dry and had not put the cutlery tray back in the proper cupboard!!!
We rather pompously consoled ourselves by remembering that the number of people and the amount of money we had raised in one spectacular night would have taken them over a year to match.
We then rushed back to our homes to make cups of tea, sandwiches and settle down comfortably on the sofa to watch the lunchtime news, texting everyone we knew to be sure not to miss the opportunity of seeing Richard being filmed running through puddles ( he had to do the same bit of road 16 times before the cameraman was happy with it). We waited and waited. We saw a report about 2 fashion students who hadn't a hope in getting a job working for George after they graduate, let alone Gucci; an interview with Daniel O'Donnell, who is playing in the next-but-one county tonight; and finally a story about a delivery driver who used to be scared of horses but is now working in a stable as a groom! How slow a news day does it have to be for that to get on the telly? In whose universe could that possibly be more newsworthy than our very own Dashing Darbster?
I rang him, outraged. He agreed that he felt used and abused, having prostituted himself in the promise of some minor media attention. He asked if I'd call the reporter in my best hard-nosed press agent styley 'cos he didn't want to appear pushy ( something which I have learned to accept as an inherent element of my make-up). It turns out we were victims of the 24 hour Trade Union Strike that had also seen Jack's school closed for the day and numerous public sector organisations affected. They had put together a quick easy schedule from their archives.
I'm at work tomorrow and then have the meeting where we find out whether the proposed Stock Transfer has passed the Tenant Ballot. Has anyone got a recordable dvd player?
It was a huge success. The Village Hall was crammed with people. I don't think they've had more in it since the 1978 Blue Peter Jumble Sale when there was a rumour that the glamorous wife of a wealthy chap, who were widely rumoured to be the hub of the local swingers and host of numerous car-key swapping parties, had donated some of her lingerie to the event which almost resulted in the riot police being called when 2 members of the rival WI and 8 O'Clock Club both got hold of seperate ends of the same baby-doll nightie. Our audience were much better behaved, cheerfully putting their hands in their pockets and donating a whopping 2.2K (My pound sign has disappeared since my keyboard decided to naturalize as an American citizen and moved everything around, anyone know where I might be able to find it)?
We locked up shortly after midnight, tired but thoroughly pleased with ourselves, vowing it would henceforth be an annual event. We returned this morning to help carry the tables and chairs that we had borrowed from the chapel. The Friendship Club, a weekly gathering of desiccated do-gooders, was already in residence. We did not get the warm, friendly welcome and hot cross buns that was advertised on their board. The decidedly unfriendly harridan that appeared to be the ring-leader instead offered up a 5 minute long diatribe on the state of the kitchen. We had heinously left a couple of tea towels on the worktop to dry and had not put the cutlery tray back in the proper cupboard!!!
We rather pompously consoled ourselves by remembering that the number of people and the amount of money we had raised in one spectacular night would have taken them over a year to match.
We then rushed back to our homes to make cups of tea, sandwiches and settle down comfortably on the sofa to watch the lunchtime news, texting everyone we knew to be sure not to miss the opportunity of seeing Richard being filmed running through puddles ( he had to do the same bit of road 16 times before the cameraman was happy with it). We waited and waited. We saw a report about 2 fashion students who hadn't a hope in getting a job working for George after they graduate, let alone Gucci; an interview with Daniel O'Donnell, who is playing in the next-but-one county tonight; and finally a story about a delivery driver who used to be scared of horses but is now working in a stable as a groom! How slow a news day does it have to be for that to get on the telly? In whose universe could that possibly be more newsworthy than our very own Dashing Darbster?
I rang him, outraged. He agreed that he felt used and abused, having prostituted himself in the promise of some minor media attention. He asked if I'd call the reporter in my best hard-nosed press agent styley 'cos he didn't want to appear pushy ( something which I have learned to accept as an inherent element of my make-up). It turns out we were victims of the 24 hour Trade Union Strike that had also seen Jack's school closed for the day and numerous public sector organisations affected. They had put together a quick easy schedule from their archives.
I'm at work tomorrow and then have the meeting where we find out whether the proposed Stock Transfer has passed the Tenant Ballot. Has anyone got a recordable dvd player?
posted by Cherrypie at 7:32 pm
4 Comments:
Very kind of you to ask, but there's very little chance of my opening next year's comedy event. You can read frustrated comments from many of my friends over the last year or so trying to entice me into the limelight, but I'm happier entertaining (hopefully) from behind the screen!
Glad to hear the evening went well though - well done, great result.
Hooray! I'm so glad all your hard work (and that of others, of course) paid off!!! It sounds as though everyone had a great time, and those Friendship Club ladies are just a bunch of miserable biddies who don't deserve a second thought (but a few of their American cousins jealously guard our church kitchen, and they Can be fierce!).
Too bad about that footage of your buddy not being shown. I guess there's no chance it might make it tonight?
Cordially,
Melora
if you lived round here i could have taken photos and got the boy in the newspaper. UNfortunately my newspaper boss is so narrow minded that nothing that isn't Peterborough oriented gets in.
I'm so glad your night was a success! Thanks for visiting my site.
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