Translator: Rachael Williams Reviewer: Denise RQ
Went to China Town;
there were too many bright lights,
asked them to dim sum.
(Laughter)
Thought I'd start with a haiku.
(Laughter)
Hello, I'm Harry, and it's nice to be back.
I'm about to finish my degree at the University of Bristol,
and so I'd like to share a couple of poems from that time.
This first one is called "How I fell in love at Freshers' Fair",
and I'd like to dedicate it to the genius in Bristol
who opened a late night kebab van and called it Jason Doner Van.
(Laughter)
"We locked eyes from across the room.
Her smile drew me in
like the smell of Jason Doner Van on a Saturday night.
I walk over before I realize what I'm doing.
Heart dancing awkwardly like Jason Donovan on a Saturday night.
They called her Bex, breathtaking Bex, brilliant Bex;
one look, I'm already erect
on my neck... the hairs...
It's poetic!
That's right Bex, beautiful Bex, brilliant Bex,
one look and I'm thinking of sex.
She [won't put] on a set theory
that states, at this stage, we can't really define what a set is.
But even a naive understanding of a selection of elements
leads to various paradoxes
like the set of all sets couldn't really be a set
otherwise it'd have to include itself.
And if I said she'd the beauty of all the women in the world
it would lead to a similar contradiction,
but if she was a set she would be fine-ite.
Bex. She puts bubbles in my stomach, like Beck's.
Bex, we all agree that she's attractive like Beck's.
I want to send her a text that ends in an x
maybe even a smiley face so I could pretend that was fun.
And as her lips begin to part
like crowded lifts with stinky farts
she asks, "Have you ever considered pole dancing?"
I tell her, "Not really, I'm not really that bloke."
She said, "Girls love it when guys come along."
I said, "That's a joke.
Surely any guy that goes to Pole-Soc must be a pervert,
a confused Eastern European,
or both.
She maintains it's a great way to stay in shape,
and there's a free taster session where you can discover your potential.
In my head I'm thinking less LA Fitness, more LA Confidential.
By which I mean the scummy Gentlemen's Club in Ealing
not the 1997 Kevin Spacey crime thriller.
Either way, I say, "I do not think I have the arm strength."
At which point, a mate chimes in, "Show him your arms, Bex."
Now imagine Popeye, on steroids, seen through a fisheye lens,
but beautiful.
And it's the first week of the term so I didn't have many friends.
Well, it's the first week of term so I didn't have any friends.
So it's nice that's someone that wants to talk to me.
Especially when she's pretty.
So I carry on this conversation even though I'm iffy.
For every perfectly reasonable question there is an equally reasonable answer
regardless of the the fact that I'd be the world's worst pole dancer.
I ask her if she'll be there.
And this is what she said, "I can give you your own personal lesson."
Obviously, I play it cool like I see all my friends are doing
but I am definitely at this taster session.
(Laughter)
if only so I'm united with Bex.
Oh Bex, bewitching Bex, beguiling Bex,
I should have expected what happened next, bloody Bex.
There are 50 people at this taster session,
and I didn't really have to be a week into my maths degree
to work out I was the only boy.
(Laughter)
And despite all those flirtatious lies Bex had said to me
that's precisely the way it's meant to be 'cause after the third time,
the instructor addresses everyone as "ladies"
followed by an apologetic smile in my direction.
I realise I'm about to spend the next 55 minutes
trying to hide my...
...embarrassment.
(Laughter)
Not only do I stand out
because of my stand out Adam's apple,
I am also noticeably terrible
which can't be helped by the fact
that my palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy.
There are friction burns on my calves already.
I'm nervous, but on the surface I look calm and ready
to pole dance
but I keep on forgetting that I can't.
(Laughter)
So once again, I jump and swing, and knees slam into laminate flooring
causing even more bruising of my ego and knees.
Bex makes her way over for that lesson she promised me
and whilst I still very much appreciate her company
her comments of, "I can't believe you actually came!"
do little to encourage me.
(Laughter)
And as the Pole-Soc Social Sec announces the end of the session
any breath that I have left forms an almighty sigh of relief.
Any dreams or delusions that haven't been crushed yet
are soon to be [expelled]
She says, "We've got a couple of socials coming up.
Next week there's a joint pub crawl with the American Football Team.
The next month there's the annual Pole-Soc photo calendar shoot.
And as she hands out last year's calendars of sexy girls in lingerie,
I share a look with Bex that says everything I want to say
because my mum brought me up believing in equality of gender.
And as much as I would love for this face to represent November
(Laughter)
it's not quite worth the 15-pound registration fee.
(Laughter)
Even if it does come with a free pair of hot pants!
So as I make my way to a free meal put on by the Christian Union,
show them my hairless sections of leg,
and tell them that Pole Fitness is a legitimate form of exercise,
and it's difficult,
I tell myself I need to start learning to say no to stuff
or at least bring a friend with me next year.
Cheers.
(Applause)
I grew up in London,
and one of the best things about growing up in London
is whenever you go anywhere else it seems very friendly
(Laughter)
and Bristol was no exception.
And the other thing about Bristol in comparison with London
is that it was relatively close to the beach.
It just happens that the beach
that it was relatively close to was Weston-super-Mare.
(Laughter)
These people have been to Weston-super-Mare!
But term started in September-October.
I was really excited,
but I thought we should probably wait till the appropriate time.
So this is a poem about what happened when we did go,
and it's called "Weston-super-Nightmare".
(Laughter)
Picture the scene:
a group of giggling teens.
Two on the left and the right,
you're in the middle with me, riddled with glee.
So excited,
you're worried that the piddle will be trickling free
warming up that back bit of your knee
but you hold out; now very aware that it is cold out
and wearing just swimming trunks, flip-flops, and a t-shirt feels bold now.
It looked a lot warmer out the window.
But when you're inside it's difficult to know how the wind blows
and right now there's mini-hurricanes around my shins.
So this was the plan: go in, arms out, maybe get a bit of a tan,
and then race across the glistening sand, flip-flops in hand,
and swim about.
Bring a towel, be in and out by sunset;
then, while it's hot, start drying off, let everything get un-wet and rewarm.
But that ain't how it goes,
and so you wish you could have been prewarned
that it's the 25th of February
and just 'cause it's the first day the sun has properly come out in ages
that don't change the fact that it's technically winter,
and it's a lot colder than you thought.
Even with that towel around your shoulders for support
and that spare pair of trousers that're now over your shorts,
you've just arrived,
and you're already wearing all the clothes you brought, and you are still cold.
You realise sometimes, we do things that are stupid
just so we don't feel old.
I'm 20 in a couple of weeks.
And to remedy this everybody's come to the beach.
There's Vanessa, Rebecca, Mandala McGregor,
Suzie, Sue, James and us,
and whatever the weather we're in it together
so why bother making a fuss?
Weston-super-Mare a.k.a. Weston-super-Mud.
My foot hits the ground with the less than super thud;
more of a squelch if I'm honest.
But I honestly don't care a bit.
I'm knee deep in faeces, I'm very much aware of it,
but I'm the type of guy that likes to see the sights.
So as we're beside the seaside me and Mandy decide
we won't leave till we've tried the ocean.
Stop motion.
Snapshot of us mouths open
desperately trying not to swallow mud.
Not quite full hippopotamus,
but there're bits of sludge going in and around the lot of us.
No concept of worrying about tomorrow, just wallowing in what's left of today
'cause today is potentially adventurey,
and 100% of me, fundamentally believes
the fun is meant to be done inventively
and whenever and wherever possible.
That doesn't mean drunken teens [vomiting up] and screaming, "Yolo!"
That's as a kid thinking, "How laxative exactly is a pack of Polos?"
And actually having the audacity to find out
(Laughter)
quite a lot.
(Laughter)
It's carefully considering the current consequences
and coming to the conclusion of "Why not?"
Maybe that's why I almost joined the pole dancing society at uni,
or decided to try rapping for my German speaking presentation,
or ended up stripping for my German speaking presentation
(Laughter)
or was one mark off a first for my German speaking presentation!
Or, emerging from the sea freezing cold and nearly naked,
a little part of me cannot help but feel amazing.
Even if, by this point, one of my flip-flops slipped off,
tracky bottoms got so sodden they had to be ripped off,
t-shirt and towel were teasing the tide and ended up a bit got,
so now I'm just in muddy trunks and fiending for a chip shop.
But the guardian of the pier is there to make sure I stay put.
He says, "You cannot come in here, you might get splinters in your foot."
(Laughter)
Now, in a West Country accent you can say anything.
It's very difficult to sound menacing.
(Laughter)
But I realise at this point this place ain't quite what I thought.
There is something inherently creepy about a seaside resort
at night time in the middle of winter.
So I think it might be time to go home, but the next train isn't for three hours,
and by that point, I would definitely be dead.
(Laughter)
So instead, I valiantly vow to continue with my quest.
Some people want to get rich, some want to get famous.
I just want to get dressed.
After getting kicked out of New Look, which was probably for the best,
I'd like to stress, other than death, I only had one option left
and usually my innate fashion sense, powerful street cred,
or inspirational moral fibre might prevent what happened next,
but these are running low and everywhere is closed,
so, "Let's all go to Tesco, where Harry buys his best clothes,
la, la, la, la, na, na, na, na.
They sell dressing gowns and flip-flops I'm desperately in need of
na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na."
Every little helps!
(Laughter)
I love the beach, and I love swimming in the sea.
I love having adventures because I love feeling free.
I love people who are up for stuff and spontaneity.
The truth is I love life, and I love people who love life like me.
Sometimes it's for the glory, sometimes it's for the story,
mostly it's because I believe we weren't made to be ordinary.
So, at the end of the day, what's done is done,
and nothing beats fun because fun is fun
and stuff is approximately 40% more fun in a dressing gown.
(Laughter)
Especially if you're naked underneath.
(Laughter)
Imagine the fun that you're having, and then adding the feeling of fleece.
(Laughter)
Combine that with a cool breeze and the fact I love feeling free.
It is having the audacity to find out quite a lot.
It is carefully considering the current consequences
and coming to the conclusion of "Why not?"
Thank you.
(Applause)