I'm going to tell you one more story.
It's about my dad.
Look, I know that I've made jokes about him,
and uh... the reality is, I love him dearly,
and I never take for granted how lucky I am to spend
that time traveling around the world with him.
And I'm so proud of him as well,
for how much he puts himself out of his comfort zone
to do the stuff that we do.
I get to see whole new sides to my dad
that I never thought that I would see.
And that's not to say that, on occasion,
I haven't pushed him too far.
And so I want to leave you with this story
about the occasion when I did just that.
And it was actually very traumatic at the time.
It was something that we didn't
feel like we could put in the show,
because it wound up with him collapsing
and being rushed to hospital.
But...
tragedy plus time equals comedy.
So, here goes.
It happened when we went to the Ukraine,
and we visited Chernobyl.
Has anyone ever been to Chernobyl, by the way?
-[whoop from audience] -Just that woman over there.
Holding up her third hand.
It's a terrifying place, terrifying place,
the site of the worst ever nuclear disaster in human history.
Uninhabited now, other than by packs of feral, stray dogs,
but, weirdly, also now a tourist destination.
Fun for all the family.
They've got a gift shop in Chernobyl.
They've got a canteen in Chernobyl.
A canteen in Chernobyl,
which no one in their right mind would eat in.
Unfortunately, my father, not in his right mind.
We went in there.
It was full of Japanese tourists.
Eventually, I get to the front of the queue.
I was like: "So, what's on the menu today?"
"Meat... in bun."
"Thank you, madam.
What's the vegetarian option?"
"You take the meat...
out of the bun."
A hundred times I told Daddy:
"Do not eat the meat in a bun."
Did he listen? Did he-- Fuck. He was like:
"I've eaten lunch every day at 1:00 p.m. my entire life,
today will be no exception. Go find me a wine list."
"Wine list? Daddy, we're in a canteen in Chernobyl,
there is no wine list.
Even if there was, I don't think you'd want to go
anywhere near."
"Would sir like the red, white, or glow-in-the-dark?"
"Uh... red, please.
Could you suggest a good year?"
"Anything before 1986."
I was like: "Daddy, you're not having any wine.
Just... have a glass of water."
He went: "I don't drink water." "Why?"
"Because fish fuck in it."
So he doesn't drink any water.
He eats the mystery "meat" in a bun.
Cut to 45 minutes later.
We're in a van with our camera crew.
We are driving past the exclusion zone towards Pripyat,
into the deserted woodlands,
the most toxic and radioactive place on earth,
when all of a sudden,
my father turns to me and whispers in my ear:
"Jack, I need the toilet."
I turn to look at him, and he does not look in a good way.
Seriously, I have not seen him this red in the face
since I told him there was a Women's World Cup.
I'm like: "Daddy, you can't go to the toilet,
you missed your chance,
we are now in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere."
He grabbed my arm,
and in a voice that sounded like he had been
possessed by a demon,
he goes: "Stop this van!"
I've never seen my dad partake in physical exercise
in his entire life.
He literally ripped open the door to this van,
and he ran into the woods like he was Usain fucking Bolt.
I turned to the camera crew, I'm like: "Hide behind the van.
I will go and deal with this."
I follow my father into the woods, past these signs.
"Danger, do not trespass." "Radiation."
You're constantly told in Chernobyl
that you cannot touch or lean on any surface,
for fear of radiation poisoning.
Therefore, as I enter the woods,
it becomes very clear very quickly that the
only way that my 79-year-old father
is going to be able to relieve himself in the woods...
is with my assistance.
Oh, you may grimace.
I had to live through this experience.
My father pulls down the trousers of his three-piece suit.
I take him in both hands...
I tread on the tops of his feet,
and at the same time, we both start to slowly lean back...
like we're doing some horrible tantric yoga pose.
I can't look at him, I have to go to a happy place.
I start humming a tune.
I'm broken from my happy place by the sound of barking.
I open my eyes.
One of these feral, radioactive dogs
is advancing towards my father's arse,
thinking: "Mmm, lunchtime!"
I'm trying to scare this thing away.
I'm like: "Shoo, shoo, please just leave us alone."
My dad's shouting as well: "This is so fucking undignified."
I think it's when the coachload
of Japanese tourists drove past...
that I must have gone into a fugue state.
That is not a side of my father that I want to see.
The next thing that I remember is coming to,
walking towards this van,
thinking: "I'm never going to be able
to look Daddy in the eye ever again."
I call the camera crew out from their hiding place.
First comes our director, then our cameraman.
The third person to emerge was Marc, our sound engineer.
He also had a haunted look on his face.
It's at that point that I realize that
throughout the entire ordeal in the woods,
we had been wearing microphones.
Then, as if it couldn't get any worse,
the crunch of tires on gravel, an armored vehicle pulls up.
And from that armored vehicle emerged
three armed members of the Ukrainian military police.
They assess the scene, they see my father's ashen face,
they see the signs that we have completely ignored,
and they see the site of Chernobyl's
second worst ever nuclear fallout.
They do not look best pleased.
It's at that point that I think quickly and I intervene.
I'm like: "Gentlemen, before you say anything,
can I just point out that I have read all of the signs here,
and nowhere can I see one that says,
'Would you please refrain from
entering the woods with active diarrhea.'"