Posts Tagged ‘humour’

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This was the third successive year I entertained audiences at a cosy boutique hotel near Witney, in Oxfordshire. Think squashy armchairs and a splendid log fire.

Their Christmas tree looks like a gift from Norway* and is pleasingly decorated with more enthusiasm than elegance. Dogs are welcome: they sprawl like well groomed furry cushions close to their humans, a little anxious in strange surroundings, flinching occasionally at the sound of my voice.

On Christmas Eve I told ScaryTales to so many guests that extra chairs had to be brought, which always makes my inner diva punch the air in triumph. The dear listeners winced and gasped in all the right places, and nobody snored. (That happened on Boxing Day afternoon.)

Who do you please?

Unlike other gigs, at a hotel Christmas session you never know what kind of audience you’ll face. Oh, officially it’s families at afternoon tea time and adults after dinner. But it’s usually the case that any performance – five over three days – must please mostly adults while still being suitable for one or two children, or teenagers.

One set this Christmas had to be tempered for an eight-ish-year-old girl whose parents sensibly let me know before starting that she’s terrified of scary stories. She was tearful even coming in to sit down! Luckily I had my sparkly grey furred Winterbeast in my bag, so he was set beside the little girl with firm instructions to protect her through the storytelling.

I’d chosen a tale with plenty of magic and delight but also a major section of spooky forest and dodgy old ladies… I was hyper conscious of adding or modifying phrases to turn the scary down. A fascinating performance challenge. I like to think the girl began to understand what stories show so well: that frightening situations can be handled.

Competing with a tree…

Another challenge at this type of gig is the physical layout of the room. Any large room has a ‘sweet spot’ where your voice naturally bounces off the ceiling and down to the far end … but not with different ceiling heights created by a minstrel’s gallery. And a hotel lounge full of sofas, armchairs and coffee tables tends to lack a focal point where a speaker can visually command attention.

I struggled to compete with the giant twinkly tree. It was also difficult to position myself to talk towards the good ears of several senior guests with impaired hearing, or even to stand where they could see my face (a lot of people, deaf or not, lipread to some extent when listening to a live speaker). Inevitably there was the hearing aid that squealed. It’s also distracting when hotel staff, despite their manager’s instructions, start clearing the room for the evening cocktail party while you’re halfway through your set!

But stories told live are powerful. And an audience that wants to listen cannot be deterred. “Those stories made my Christmas,” confided one very frail older lady.

Out in the world, war and flood and earthquake and avoidable poverty and loneliness and preventable pollution continued without mercy. And death claimed yet more people whose talents we treasured. In the face of all that, for a few hours, in the comfortable house by the river in the garden, we flew on the magic of words.

* Every year the city of Oslo in Norway sends a huge Christmas tree to London, to stand in Trafalgar Square sparkling with lights, in thanks for help from Britain during World War 2.

NOTES:
♦  Mistletoe Storyteller costume by the amazing AJ at Dragons & Unicorns, based on a design idea by me
♦  Booking now for World Book Day / Book Week in schools: Thursday 2 March 2017. Please contact me soon to avoid disappointment! Year 3 to Sixth Form. Dragon Days as Agent Green the world’s only living Dragon Whisperer. Legends of Britain and beyond as Nightshade, Un-Wisewoman of the Woods.

www.midnightstorytellers.co.uk

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British values: down the pan?

British values: down the pan?

Education boss Mr Gove has decreed that our schools must promote ‘British values’. Depending on who defines ‘British’ and ‘values’, this should be interesting. With a side order of hilarious.

I invite you … Oh, go on, I challenge you to devise your own list.

Meanwhile, here are my British Values:

  • Grumbling, whingeing and whining but eventually getting things done
  • Obsessed with the weather
  • Fair play
  • Stiff upper lip – potentially awkward, after years of mental health advice to talk about your troubles
  • Two fingers up to authority
  • Behave as if you hate thy neighbour – especially foreigners, and that’s anyone with a suntan or a vaguely Eastern European accent – but move heaven and earth to bail them out in any kind of bona fide disaster
  • Lazy to the bone
  • Obsessed with work
  • Revolting peasants, and proud of it (going to the supermarket in your onesie and crocs)
  • Never buy a book, use a library or go to the theatre
  • Campaign to save local libraries, theatres etc
  • Campaign to raise money for health charities
  • Stuff your face with rubbish food and booze for decades, then be shocked that you get diabetes or heart attacks
  • Hate anything or anyone ‘posh’. Anyone who likes reading, is articulate and speaks ‘nicely’ should be ostracized at very least, and if you can do it on the sly then give ‘em a good kicking too
  • Love the countryside, wildlife and all animals
  • Chuck your pets out on the road when you don’t want them any more, because you’re moving house or they’re too old or pregnant and need veterinary care you won’t give up your booze and fags to pay for
  • Dump old mattresses and sacks of litter in beauty spots
  • Delight in whimsy and eccentricity
  • Sneer at whimsy and eccentricity as creepy, under suspicion of being posh – or kiddyfiddling, or both
  • Insist on humour splattered with expletives, racism, misogyny, homophobia and ageism. Basically if they’re different from you, you hate them
  • Love the Queen, sneer at Charles; don’t bother to vote
  • Complain endlessly about council tax and government in general but NEVER get involved in politics at any level and especially don’t read any leaflets circulated by your local council to explain how they’re trying to eke out their Westminster-controlled budget
  • Never volunteer
  • Work unpaid long hours for charities, heritage sites, libraries, venues and more where those roles could and should be paid jobs

And finally:

  • (Employed) Work like a slave for gobshite bosses at dead end low paid jobs, under perpetual threat of redundancy and having to reapply for your own job every two years. Retire much later than you expected, run out of money and die mindless with dementia, wallowing in your own piss in a so-called care home that couldn’t care less
  • (Unemployed) Booze, eat and drug yourself to an early death because it’s all hopeless, you haven’t got a chance of escaping the demeaning and demoralizing struggle for a decent life, nobody gives a toss about you, and it’s all so fucking depressing…

These are the values I see around me. This is Britain in the 21st century.

If you’d like to be cheered up (!) or you’d like your children, pupils or students to be inspired by fascinating fairytales and other traditional stories from around the world, please check out my work.