Standing on the stage in front of 200 spectators, clad only
in off-white Jockeys, I emitted a random combination of gasps and screeches in
an effort to mimic a prolonged orgasm.
It was 2003 and we were holidaying in Tenerife, one of the
Canary Islands. Mrs Jones and I had met Jim and June, a fun-loving couple from
London, who were staying at the same hotel. In the evenings we socialized
together and, on this particular night, we had opted for a social club hosting
live entertainment. The star turn had been advertised on the billboard outside
as a “whacky comedienne.” Our London friends had insisted we occupy a table
next to the stage so as to ensure an unimpeded view.
The support act, a country-and-western singer, had delivered
some Kenny Rogers’ classics and the evening was going well. A niggling doubt
that a down-turn in the proceedings was imminent first arose when the
comedienne appeared on the stage; in her late forties, with multiple tattoos on
her arms and rings the size of a juggernaut’s wheels swinging from her
nostrils, her opening line was, “I fucking hate men, so tonight I’m going to
humiliate the bastards.”
After assaulting her audience with a torrent of crude
anecdotes about the sexual inadequacies of males, she asked for six men to get
up on the stage to participate in an “exciting competition.” This was my cue to
slip off to buy a round of drinks. I was in no rush to be served and monitored
developments on stage from the sanctuary of the bar. A couple of bold young men
had strode forward and were now standing on the stage alongside my friend Jim,
who had acquiesced to his wife’s encouragement. I loitered at the bar as three
more victims were cajoled and harassed into submission. With six men now on
stage, I deemed it safe to return to my table with the drinks.
As I sat down, the she-wolf screeched, “I’ve changed my
mind, as is a lady’s prerogative. Let’s have seven of the tossers up here on
stage.”
I crouched behind Mrs Jones in an effort to avoid detection,
and believed I had succeeded, until June stood up, pointed at me (almost on the
floor on hands and knees by this point) and yelled, “Bryan, Bryan, Bryan,
Bryan.” The comedienne marched towards me, grabbed my wrist and yanked me onto
the stage. Pathetically, I did not resist; she had the appearance of someone
with an extensive forensic history.
With seven men now captured on the stage, the games
commenced. Who could do the best penguin impression – I thought my waddle was
rather impressive. Our comedienne (and master), now armed with a cane, ordered
us all to strip to our underpants as quickly as possible, and threatened that
the slowest to do so would receive 10 lashes across the buttocks. Hence, there
I was, on stage in just my Jockeys. The silliness continued with a competition
to make the most authentic orgasmic sound. After six, prolonged exclamations of
panting and gasping, a Swedish man at the end of the line won the contest with
a monosyllabic, “Oo!”
And then the finale. We were directed to replicate the
iconic scene from the film, The Full
Monty, depicting the tale of how a group of British, unemployed
steel-workers form a male striptease act. By this point I was getting into
role. As the seven of us turned our backs to the baying audience, and the song "You can leave your hat on" blasted from the speakers, my
45-year-old hips were thrusting and gyrating as if the lower half of my body
was in the throws of an epileptic seizure, sending the female onlookers into a
frenzy of desire. (I still refuse to believe that their reactions were more to
do with the two 20-something beefcakes dancing alongside me). Off came our
undies, revealing seven bare arses. As we swung our briefs above our heads, we
turned to face the baying mob; I shielded my genitals with my hand, while my
more brazen compatriots revealed everything.
leotasjane1 CC-BY, via flicr |
Later that evening, when we returned to our hotel, Mrs Jones
told me how dignified I had been while on stage. In particular, she was so
proud of me for showing modesty in not fully exposing myself in the final
scene. My humility had impressed her. What she didn’t know was that, if I had
been blessed with nob the size of a baboon’s, I would have been swinging it
above my head like a cowboy’s lasso.
Excellent post! I was wondering how you were going to end this and I would have shielded myself like you did, and for the very same reason. But I give you huge points for going with this as long as you did.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure I had any choice than to go with it. On reflection, copious consumption of San Miguel lager may have helped.
ReplyDeleteThanks again for your support and interest.
Well done covering up. I get embarrassed even taking a shower.
ReplyDeleteAnd San Magoos will do that to a lad.
Yes, I've always assumed you're the modest and shy type!
DeleteWell, there WAS this one time in a trailer park swimming pool in 1987. After a champagne breakfast at the Best Western in Orange Park, Florida.....
DeleteNow THAT could have gone very badly...
You've got a lot more balls than I ever would have had! (well, apparently, since you kept those covered!) I don't think I would have been up there showing my bits! I hope it was at least warm out that evening?
ReplyDeleteI think it was a case of a situation where I would make a bigger fool of myself resisting than going with the flow.
DeleteGood for you. You can check "stripping" off any potential bucket list. And probably Stand Up Comedy? :D
ReplyDeleteYes, maybe you're right. That leaves more difficult challenges like watching "Dances with Wolves" from start-to-finish without self-mutilating.
DeleteThis sounds like a scenario more nightmarish than being stuck on a long bus ride next to Lisa Lampenelli. Kudos for braving this situation - I'm pretty sure I would have left the instant the comedian introduced herself. Enjoyed!
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping in, John.
ReplyDeleteI think it was one of those situations where resistance could have been more humiliating than going along with it.
ahahahaha! That last bit made me laugh out loud! Oh my gosh! You are brave!!! Holy crap, you must have been liquored up. I would have had a heart attack just getting up on a stage. Great story!
ReplyDeleteYes, I'd had a few bottles of the local lager. Not sure about brave; too feeble to refuse is probably more accurate.
DeleteI love the sound of Mrs Jones dobbing you in like that! Another hilarious post Bryan!
ReplyDeleteThanks for your interest and support.
DeleteIt wasn't my good lady who dobbed me in (she would have had no desire to see my hairy arse on stage). The snitch was June, our friend from London.
Jeezaloo! I'd definitely cover up as my girlfriend would be none-too-pleased if I bore everything to the audience. In fact, I probably would have pretended to sprain my ankle while walking to the stage.
ReplyDeleteSprained ankle - why didn't I think of that? But then again, I must be a latent exhibitionist
DeleteYou are a good sport Bryan Jones! That is hilarious! Today someone would have inevitably filmed the whole thing and you'd have ended up on youtube. Thank god for small mercies! Mind you I bet it would have gone viral!
ReplyDeleteI don't know about viral, Pam. Venereal most likely!
DeleteWhen I read your first sentence describing a simulated "orgasm," I thought, "Oh God, What has this man done now!" So I kept reading and laughing. At first I thought it was another of your dreams, but then realized, "This is real and what was he drinking!" (I see that others who commented wondered the same thing.)
ReplyDeleteSo now that you're 50 something, what will you do for an encore?
Encore? Get more wrinkled and feeble most likely!
DeleteHaha that is one heck of a memory . Loved the way you described the whole incident , i could actually imagine all this happening . Hilarious post !
ReplyDeleteWhat i really liked is how Mrs.Jones admired you after the whole episode . Waiting for more such amaazing memories of yours . Cheers !
http://shonazee.blogspot.in/
I appreciate your generous comments.
ReplyDeleteI don't think there are any more instances in my memory bank of me getting my kit off. And I can't see me doing it again in the future - but then again, next month I am due to attend two weddings and I have my own retirement party ...
Hahaha , by memories i meant all the other memories or stories that you have lived through , but then good luck with the parties , maybe stripping with dignity part 2 is on it's way lol (jus kiddin) ;)
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