Daniel Sloss: X (2019) | Transcript

Taking the stage before a sold-out audience at the Enmore Theatre in Sydney, Australia, acclaimed Scottish comedian Daniel Sloss takes on toxic masculinity in a 90-minute comedy special that is full of deeply funny observations about gender and sexuality.
Daniel Sloss: X (2019)

A man offered us a billion dollars. – Bolt the doors. – We could all go to prison. Enjoy the injunction. Did you just try to punch the wall and miss? No. I clipped it. I got it.

♪ And there’s only one crown ♪
♪ And there’s only one king ♪
♪ And it’s looking like me ♪
♪ So you better start running ♪
♪ So you better start running ♪

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage Mr. Daniel Sloss!

♪ ‘Cause there’s only one king ♪
♪ And there’s only one crown ♪
♪ And there ain’t enough room for us both on the throne ♪
♪ So it’s ’bout to go down ♪
♪ So you better start running ♪
♪ So you better start running… ♪

Hello, Sydney. How are you? Good. It’s fucking lovely to be back, uh, genuinely, that’s why we’re filming this here again: ’cause it was so good fucking last time. So, don’t screw this up. Uh, get comfortable. And if you’re not comfortable, don’t worry about it too much. I’m about to provide plenty of material that’s going to make most of you very fucking uncomfortable.

Let’s crack on. I love kids. I do. Love kids, love babies, I love toddlers. I love tiny little children. Love ’em. There should not be this much tension in the room. I haven’t said anything bad there. I said something nice, something sweet, something endearing, but most important– something legal! I love kids. Some of you still don’t trust me. That’s fine, I get that, that could be my fault. I’m a comedian that’s got a reputation for having a “dark” sense of humor. Maybe you expect me to take that premise, turn it into an offensive punchline, all for the sake of shock comedy. I promise you that’s not gonna happen with this joke. Maybe it’s another factor that I hadn’t considered. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a white man and we don’t have the best history with… children. I can’t say for certain. All I know for certain is that whenever I proudly declare that I love kids at least half of you fuckers go “He-he-he.” Every gig without fail, no matter where I am. I love kids! “He’s gonna fuck one.” I’m not. I’m not gonna fuck one. Why would I fuck one? They are not my type.

I have three younger siblings, I’ve got nine younger cousins. From the age of two, I’ve been raised around kids. I love kids, I really do. And I hate the fact that I have to qualify my love of children. ‘Cause I don’t have to qualify my love of anything else. I love dogs. None of you are like, “He’s gonna fuck a poodle!” It’s not… And I would fuck a poodle. I absolutely would. It’s small, it’s on a leash. Where’s it gonna go? I love my mom. Yeah. None of you think I’m gonna fuck her, do you? And I’ve been inside of her and I’ve sucked her tits. Not at the same time. That’s when Dad gets jealous.

It’s not good being a man and being paternal. I guess if you’re like– maybe like a father, you got kids that’s cool. But if you’ve got no kids and you love kids, some people find it weird. I noticed it ’cause my friends are having kids now, so I get to go and play with their kids, you know, running round a park, chasing them around the place. Again, not in a creepy way. Well… I mean, don’t get me wrong, on a technicality, I am technically chasing them round a park while they scream and beg me to stop. But I promise you that that is part of the game. When chasing children, hand position is very, very important, right? Funny monster, actual monster. There is… There is a subtle difference between “I’m gonna get you” : and “I’m gonna get you!” Kids are intuitive and they can tell the difference.

I get jealous of women sometimes. Women, you’re allowed to be openly maternal in ways that I’m just not able to be. Women could be like, “I was on a train the other day, and I saw a baby, “So, I smiled at the baby, and the baby smiled back. “And then I waved at the baby, and the baby waved back. And, oh, my ovaries exploded.” “Oh, my poor explody ovaries have done a 9/11 in my belly.” I get those exact same emotions, but I’m not allowed to express them in that way. Or I go to jail! Do you want proof of that claim? Fine, I have a goddaughter, her name is Ava. She is two-and-a-half years old. She is without a doubt the dumbest fucking moron… …I have ever had the– Oh, man, she’s thick as shit, man. She’s so great. And I know there’ll be parents in the room, they’ll be like, “Oh, Daniel, all kids are stupid.” Oh, I know they are. This one takes the biscuit. And shoves it in her fucking ear. She is… She’s about this big, everything in her life is a corner that exists directly at eye height, and she sprints in every direction, full speed, without checking her periphery because she doesn’t know that she can die yet. I love her unconditionally, but I don’t think she’s gonna make it to ten. It would be nice, but it might not happen. She does have an older sister. I should point that out. But her older sister is not my goddaughter, so I haven’t learned her fucking name. Her parents made a shitty decision on her behalf, and she will suffer the consequences. I’ll play with Ava, and Slagathor can play with her godfather… …whoever he may be.

Ava’s the best, man. She’s so fun. Always excited to see me, ’cause, you know, we play games together. Her favorite game in the world is hide-and-seek. Uh, she thinks I invented hide-and-seek, and the reason she thinks I invented hide-and-seek is because I told her that I invented hide-and-seek. And she’s the worst hide-and-seek player. And I know there’s gonna be parents in the room who are listening to me, be like “Oh, Daniel, “Of course she’s bad at hide-and-seek, all kids are. Let me guess, she hides behind the curtain and giggles.” Ha-ha. That is a Harvard graduate compared to my fucking moron. Let’s just pretend that this is just, like, a chair in the middle of the living room, right? I’ll be Ava and you be me, and let’s see how long it takes you to find me. If indeed you can. Allow me to just get – fucking moron. Did you find me? Please note that she doesn’t hide like this. She hides like this because she likes to maintain eye contact! For the duration of the game. Now, I love this moron. I don’t want her growing up knowing she’s a moron. I want her growing up feeling confident, so I have to call her a genius. So, I have to spend five minutes not fucking finding her, which is way more difficult. Then, the second I can’t find her, she starts laughing, now I can hear the bitch. That is two senses I can now use to work out where in the room she might be. Then she gets so excited that she shits herself. Three out of five.

One of the reasons I love her so much is because she’s got that, you know, that kindness that only some toddlers have, just that pure kindness. ‘Cause eventually whenever I do find her, she’s proud of me. Like, I’ll eventually turn around and be like, “Oh there you are!” And she’s like, “How did you–?” You were fucking there! She’s so precious, I’m gonna die. Her older sister, by the way, is very good at hide-and-seek, but that’s mainly ’cause I never fucking look for her. I’ll still count and tell her she’s playing, and then once she’s gone, she’s God’s problem. Ava sucks at seeking as well. She sucks at both halves of the game, right? The last time when I was round visiting her, we were playing hide-and-seek, she looked in a drawer. It was the one and only place she looked. She walked into the kitchen confident as fuck. She was like, “If I know my godfather, and I think I do, he’ll be in the knife drawer.” “That’s where I would be.” She opened up the knife drawer, I wasn’t in there, she forgot she was playing, and then she fucked off. Just me and her sister hiding under a table. Like, “What the fuck is this shit?” Her sister was like, “Annoying, isn’t it?” Shut your whore mouth!

I fucking swear to God. Love being a god-dad, love being a god-dad. Uh, it’s good fun. I don’t see– I feel guilty sometimes ’cause, I travel a lot with this job. I don’t see Ava as much as I’d like to. So, whenever I do, I spoil her just so she still loves me. Not with like treats and stuff, like, you know, physical things. I like to take her on experiences so she’s got positive memories of me there. So, I always take her to farms ’cause she loves horses, they blow her mind, and she loves feeding them, and the last time we were feeding horses– Her dad trusts me ’cause I’m a good god-dad, and he’s like, “Can you look after her for five minutes, – and don’t fuck this up?” – And I was like…. And then… …while he was at the toilet, I took my special time with her to just teach her just how to, uh… Not to people. Never, never to people. Just to horses. I looked my two-year-old goddaughter in her perfect blue eyes, and I said, “Ava, this means I love you horsey.” Why? Because who’s the victim? There isn’t one. I’ve triple-checked. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. All she knows is that I am crying with laughter. The horse doesn’t know it’s offended. It’s a fucking horse. And now she thinks that is what you do to horses. And it is never not funny. Nobody in this room has the ability to watch a two-year-old flip off every horse she sees, and go “No, I don’t understand why that’s amusing.” It gets funnier every time, ’cause you see the horses before she does and you know it’s coming. Her dad still sends me videos of her being driven past fields of horses, and she’s just like “Horses!” So good! Why would you not want that in your life at every available opportunity? Free serotonin!

I love spoiling her. I shouldn’t do it, but I love doing it. Be a Tuesday night at like 9 p.m., I’ll be visiting, I’ll be like, Ava, do you want some ice cream? She’ll be like, “Mum says I’m not allowed any ice cream.” I went to high school with your mother and I’ve seen her get fingered. You can get some fucking ice cream. You let me deal with mommy bear. Okay?

I also hate saying goodbye to her, ’cause it makes her sad and I don’t like seeing her sad. So, I just leave. Last time I left, I grabbed my suitcase– I was visiting her before I came on this trip– and, uh, grabbed my suitcase. Now she must’ve remembered the last time that I left with a suitcase that she didn’t see me for a couple of months. ‘Cause the second I grabbed the handle, she stopped what she was doing, she ran as fast as she could across the living room, just daring any table to end her life. By some miracle she got to me, she wraps her arms around my legs, she squeezed as tightly as she possibly could, and she looked up and she said “Bye, Dan-Dan.” She calls me Dan-Dan. “Bye, Dan-Dan. Love you.” And my balls exploded. Why is that different? It’s the exact same sentiment! That’s also where they come from! Everyday sexism.

I want to be a dad, not yet. I know I’m not ready to be a dad. If you want proof of that, listen to the last fucking joke I told. I want to have daughters. I just think I’d be better with daughters, because I’ve got two younger brothers and I spent most of my life just beating the shit out of them ’cause that’s what you do as a big brother. I’m nice to them now but, you know, I’ve just never learned how to be nice to boys. ‘Cause after my sister died, I had two younger cousins– female cousins turn up, and I really sort of attached myself to them. I was really nice to them. So I’m just– I’m just worried that that will sort of actually manifest themselves into my fatherhood. Like, I’ll have a daughter and I’ll be like, “You’re the best, I love you.” My son’ll turn up, I’m like, “You can fuck off.”

And… I’m very aware that that is a me problem. And… I am working on it. I think it’s called toxic masculinity. Now, I don’t know much about toxic masculinity. First I heard of it was last year. One of my friends she said to me, she was like, “Do you know that you’re a toxic man?” And I was like, hmm, doesn’t sound like me, you dumb bitch. Why don’t you speak when spoken to? How about that? That sound good? And then I read a bunch of articles about it, and I was like, oh boy! Fucking oh-ho-ho! Somebody’s been following me. I’m not gonna change, but at least I’m self-aware. And that’s half the battle. But not the half that matters. First became aware of it when my friend, she said to me, she was like, “You know, you’re quite bad with your emotions.” And I was like, “No, I’m not. You’re bad with your emotions, because I know when you’re having them.” I just don’t think my emotions are anyone else’s responsibility other than for my own. So if I have a negative emotion, I’ll just bottle it up and keep it to myself. And, apparently, that’s quite unhealthy. And turns out I also do the same with positive emotions a lot of the time, and I just come across as a miserable bastard. And I don’t want that, man. I want my friends that I love to know that I love them. I don’t wanna be one of those fucking closed up people. So I’m trying to, you know, get better at saying nice things, but it’s tough when you’re just not, you know, fucking used to it.

Like, to the men in the room, if you’re anything like me and you’re struggling with your emotions– I do recommend you get in touch with them. ‘Cause it’s not like having a super power, but it is like having every other man’s kryptonite. Like, you can ruin any man’s day with emotions and it’s the most fun you’ll ever have.

Women, I finally understand your games. Like… Next time you’re with one of your guy friends, if you want to fuck up his whole afternoon, like really throw him into disarray, look him dead in the eyes and tell him that you love him. And just watch him not be able to process that… …with any level of maturity. Hey, Mark, I love you. “Why?” You’re one of my close friends, I love you. “Are– are you dying?” No. “Am I dying?” Why would I know that? “Are you trying to fuck me?” No, I’m not trying to fuck you! “Yes you are. If you love something, you fuck it. You know the rules.”

It’s cliché to say, women, you’re better with your emotions, but generally you sort of tend to be. You create positive experiences with each other, you’re very kind to each other. I love watching women compliment each other. Sincerely, I find it very empowering. Especially if they’re shit-faced. There is nothing better than two drunk women at 3 a.m. being like, “Oh my God, Sarah, I absolutely love your tits!” “Shut up, Jessica. I would cut off my tits and give them to you if I could have a day in that.”

It’s very, very empowering. And you’re not really allowed to do that as a man. Just, “Hey, Steve, nice dick!” Doesn’t work. Doesn’t work and that’s a real shame, ’cause Steve’s got a real nice dick. He’s got a real nice dick and he won’t let me see it anymore.

So, you know, I’m trying to, you know… I’m trying to read a bit more about it. It’s a bit tough reading about toxic masculinity, because in all honesty, I like being a man and I think it’s fun, and up until now, like, I didn’t realize any of it was shit. ‘Cause for me, all masculinity means to me is it’s just me and ten of my friends drinking until one of us dies. And the one that does die, we won’t attend his funeral, because he died like a bitch and we don’t honor bitches. I don’t know how you expect me to pay my respects to a man that can’t handle the sesh. That’s not something… …I have within my repertoire. Like, what do you want me to do at his funeral? Pour a drink out in his grave? Be like, “Still can’t handle it, can you cunt?” Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Your father was a pussy.

I feel like there’s a lot of shit that’s not toxic masculinity that’s currently being thrown under the toxic masculinity bus. I see it happen on Twitter a lot. People say like, “This is what toxic masculinity looks like.” I’m like, no, no, no, that’s just a thing that cunts do. Now, I’m both a toxic man and a cunt and I’m willing to give up one of those. Here’s a thing that I do not think is exclusive to men. I think bullying is one of the funnest things in the entire world. Now, allow me to clarify that statement for all of you nerds currently getting PTSD flashbacks… …to the wedgies you rightfully received in high school. When I say bullying, I do not mean in any way, shape, or form, bullying someone society deems weaker or less than you, and I especially don’t mean ganging up on somebody you hate or dislike. I mean bullying your friends. I think there is no higher form of love available as a human being than staring your best friend dead in the eyes and just destroying every life decision they have ever made up until that moment in time, with no mercy, no remorse. And the entire time, they’re just sat there being like, “My turn soon, cunt. See if I give a shit.” “Think you’re perfect do you, princess?”

And that’s not exclusive to men. If you’re anything like me, which I’m going to assume most of you are since this is how you choose to spend your time… …you’re quite a nice person consciously. It’s an active decision. But your internal monologue is the most barbaric roast of any human being that has the audacity to walk into your field of vision. It’s not even a conscious thing. You’re just walking down the street, being like, “I’m in a good mood.” And your brain’s like, “Wrong. Cunt, cunt, cunt, ugly baby, shit dog.” And you’re like… “Why am I like this?” “Who hurt me?” I would never ever, ever, ever say any of these horrible thoughts out loud. But I do know five cunts who would love them! Group chat! And then… I’m in a WhatsApp group with ten male comedians, so yeah. Our banter is unforgivable. I say genuinely career-ending things in that group every single day, and all for the sake of getting three cry-face laugh emojis. Is it worth it? You’re goddamn fucking right it’s worth it.

Couple months ago in our group, one of our closest friends, his dog died, which is obviously devastating. But not as devastating as the memes we made. He didn’t even tell us his dog was dead, ’cause he knew we’d make fun of him. We had to find out from his wife’s Facebook page. She did a sad little post about it, we all screen grabbed it, put it in the group. We’re like, “Hi, is your dog dead?” And he was like “Yeah,” and we were like, “Aah! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! That’ll teach you to love something!” And then we made fun of his dead dog for an hour. Now, the reason we made fun of his dead dog isn’t ’cause we were glad the dog was dead. We loved that dog. He was such a good dog. I miss that dog. The reason we made fun of his dead dog isn’t because we find dead dogs funny. Very rarely do we find dead dogs funny. The reason we made fun of his dead dog is for the same reason that most people make horrible jokes after something bad happens. And it’s not because they’re evil, and it’s not because they’re malicious, and it’s not because they’re heartless. It’s because the joke pops in to your head. And that’s it. Something bad happens, and you go, “Oh, no!” And your brain goes, “Say this, though.” And that’s it. And if you don’t say the joke, it’s not like it fucks off. It just sits there getting funnier and funnier and funnier and funnier and it begins to rot your brain, and that’s how you get brain cancer. I am a scientist. It’s… It’s like having diarrhea, holding it in doesn’t achieve anything. You just have to admit that you’re unwell and be like, “I’m very sorry. I’m incredibly sick. “I have to get this out of my system, otherwise I might explode.” “Thank you for your patience. Sorry for your loss.”

So, we spend an hour just making silly jokes about his dead dog. I say “we.” I didn’t. I spent 45 minutes of that hour very carefully photoshopping an image of Thanos clicking his fingers and his dog… …disappearing from the arms of his four-year-old daughter. And… You’ll– you’ll never convince me that that’s not the funniest thing I’ve ever done in my goddamn life. Five cry-face laugh emojis from all my boys. I bowled a perfect game. You never see that. Never happens. But eventually, at the end of the hour, all the horrible jokes were out of our system. I was straight in. I was like, hey man, we hope you’re okay. We hope the kids are okay, and we hope you know we’re just joking. And he was straight in. He was like, “Don’t fucking condescend to me.” “I’m very aware they were just jokes. “I appreciate your attempts to cheer me up. They did work. I love you, boys.” And we were like, “Ew!” And then… And I was like, can I ask how the dog died? He was like, “Yeah man, we just, we had to get it put down.” I’m like, man, I’m genuinely sorry to hear that. Having a dog put down, it’s a horrible thing to go through. All jokes aside, why did you have to get the dog put down? “Oh, it was showing signs of dementia.” Boys, come back. No, it gets so much better. It gets way better. I’m sorry. Dogs get dementia? “Yeah they do, Daniel. It’s pretty serious.” Can you just– can you–? I’ll ask! Can you just describe the first symptom please? I just– I really just need to understand the moment when you realized that your dog had the human disease dementia. Just talk me through that. What was that like? “I’m gonna take the dog for a walk.” “Oh, that’s fucked!” “I think it’s best we kill it.”

I didn’t realize that the male ego was fragile. Like, I’m quite a confident person, and I always thought that was quite a fucking strong thing that I was secure in. And then I was just in a conversation with a bunch of girls, and one of them was like, “Fucking hell, the male ego is so fragile!” And I was like, no, it’s not! Oh, there it is. Ah, I see. I’m the problem. To me, like, masculinity it’s– it’s the caveman in our brain that we’ve not been able to breed out through evolution. Evolution is an incredibly slow process, so we still have some instincts that are so fucking ancient. Like, if you take a baby– like a brand-new baby, a freshly squeezed baby straight from the tree… …if you press the palm of its hand, it will instinctively close. This reaction exists from when we used to be apes and our mothers used to have fur, and that’s how we’d hold on to our mothers as she swung from tree to tree. That reaction is still like a baby’s now. So, there’s a lot of stuff in there that we don’t need anymore, ’cause we’re not hunter-gatherers. We don’t need fight or flight, for an example, as a reaction to things. It’s a very archaic way of dealing with modern problems, but it’s still in there. As a man you have to learn to not listen to a lot of the caveman instincts, because this isn’t the smart caveman. This isn’t the one that discovered fire. This is the one that worked out it was hot. Like… He shouldn’t be running the ship at any point. I’m slowly coming to terms with my caveman nature of understanding his bullshit reactions to things. He sees masculine things as strong and feminine things as weak. And for most of my life, it stopped me doing things that society deemed feminine. And it’s such a fucking pathetic way to deal with things. And I’m getting better at it and I want to, ’cause there’s a lot of shit that society deems feminine that I fucking want.

For example, ladies you, uh… you get to go to the bathroom together. I want that. And it’s nothing you can give us. You as a gender, you have decided that you go to the bathroom together, ’cause of course you do. It makes perfect sense to do it that way. Men, for some reason, we insist on going to the toilet alone. And nobody has ever been able to rationally explain to me why. Have you ever seen women going to the toilet together? Like, it’s fucking incredible! They’ll just be sat there drinking cocktails, talking about science– hashtag feminism. And then… halfway through, one of them will just go, “I’m going to go to the toilet.” And immediately three of her friends will go, “Ah! We’ll come too!” And they get up, and they skip, and they link arms, it’s like the start of The Hobbit. It’s beautiful!

Yet when I want to take a piss, I gotta do a goddamn Frodo solo mission. It makes so much sense to go the bathroom together. And I’ve been doing a lot of research on this. And by research, I mean staring at women going to the toilets. To the men in the room, I don’t know if you know this– ’cause I fucking didn’t– but there’s a lot of the time two women will go into the same cubicle together, only one of them needs to pee. The other one is just there to keep her company. “Are ya having a good pee?” “I am having a good pee. Yeah, thanks.” “How’s Darren?” “Oh, you know.” I want that! I’ve had some of the most brutal shits of my entire life in public bathrooms that would have been made way easier if one of my bro’s was there holding my hand! “Come on, Daniel, push!” But it’s so painful! “Come on, breathe! Just like we practiced.” Ha-ha! I’ll name it after you! Do you wanna hold it?

Obviously there are other reasons why women go to the bathroom together. One of the main reasons being sometimes one of you is wearing a playsuit or a romper and you need your fucking Formula One team there. Oh, I know your secrets, ladies. To the men that might not get that reference, if you ever see more than two women going to the bathroom, nine times out of ten it’s because one of them is wearing an all-in-one monstrosity, and she needs at least three of her sisters to be like, “Go, go, go, go, go, go, go!” Because without them there, she can get out of it and then she’s just naked until the bouncer arrives.

And I’ve tried, man. I have tried getting my guy friends to come to the toilet with me. Does not work. It makes them very uncomfortable. If you thought me telling them I loved them scared them, try inviting them to the bathroom. Don’t do those two things in a row, by the way. Hey, Mark, I love you. I’m going to go to the toilet. Mark! “But I don’t need to pee.” You don’t need to need to pee. Just come be with me while I pee. “Why?” I’ll miss you.

Once, it’s worked. I remember the day so vividly. November 22nd last year, Queens Arm pub in Edinburgh. I turned to one of my boys and I was like, hey man, I’m going to go to the toilet. Do you want to come? He was like, “Fuck yeah, Sloss, I’ll join you.” I was like… I’m making a difference! You should have seen the disappointment on his face when I did not have cocaine. He was a very angry man. “Why is your dick out?!” Why is your wallet out?! I am not that type of lady. Just trying to fix the shit in my brain. I’m still not 100 % happy with who I am as a person. Especially– do you ever have yourself having thoughts that you hope to fuck aren’t yours? Like, I can find myself having opinions that I don’t even agree with, and I don’t know how that works. Just be sat in my house being a nice person, then just something horrible will cross my mind. I’m like, fucking some cunt better have walked by with his Bluetooth on.

Like, and I don’t think– I don’t think it’s like– I don’t think I’m a bad person. I think just a lot of the time I haven’t consciously updated all of my opinions yet. Like, I still have some opinions from 2005, and occasionally when I’m drunk my brain will just go, and here’s the classics. And… They’re not necessarily hateful opinions. They’re just shitty opinions that a 15-year-old has. Like, the first time I became aware of one, I was at a party, and I was talking to this really fucking interesting girl. We had a good conversation, and then in the midst of it, she was just like, “What is it that you do for a living?” And I was like, oh, I’m a comedian. What do you do for a living? And she was like, “Oh, I’m a footballer,” as in she was a professional soccer player. And I was like, oh, cool! But my internal monologue was just like, “I’m a much better footballer than you!” And that is not true. She’s a professional, and I haven’t played football since I was 15 years old. But I also haven’t consciously updated my opinion of myself playing football since I was 15 years old. That’s what I mean.

I would argue these aren’t even my opinions. They’re more like the echoes of a less educated me. They are the residue of ignorance. Now, every single one of us has ignorant opinions. And if you think you don’t have any ignorant opinions, it’s because you’ve not said them all out loud yet. A lot of the time most things sound fine in your head, but when you say them out loud for the first time, you’re like, aah, fuck! That’s definitely wrong. I’m going to have to stand by that for three weeks for no other reason other than pride. And then pretend I read a book that changed my mind. Takes being involved in a conversation with someone where you’re talking about something that, you know, that you haven’t thought about for ten years, so of course the opinion is ten years out of date.

I was talking to one of my boys, one of my WhatsApp boys, one of my boys, right? And he’d been seeing a girl for, like, ages. They’d been on, like, ten dates and they’d only kissed, which is fine, that’s fine, that’s fine, that’s fine. And after, like, the tenth date of only kissing, he was like, “Man, I think she really likes me.” And I was like, she fucking doesn’t, man. “Oh, how can you tell?” Because your nose still smells like your nose. It’s a very simple equa– First of all, if you get that reference, you’re not better than me, okay? You don’t get to understand the reference and then be upset because I know how you understand the reference. It’s the same way I understand the fucking reference. You don’t get to sit there being like, “Sir, how dare you?” “How dare– “Barely were the words out of your mouth before my mother was like, ‘Yeah, done that!'” Look, I respect her. Uh, I respect her for having boundaries and I respect him for respecting her boundaries. I’m still going to make fun of him though because fuck him.

So… Eventually they had sex, and I was happy for them. And I was talking to him afterwards and I was like, how was the sex? And he was like, “Oh, man, it was the best sex ever.” I was like, it wasn’t, but okay. He was like, “Yeah, it was, right? At one point we were making love.” I’m very mature. “So, at one point we were making love. “And while we were making love, she shoved her finger up my ass, right?” And then he kept talking. And I had stopped listening. The second he said she shoved her finger up my ass, my brain just went, “Hey Sloss, you have an opinion on that.” And I was like, do I? Oh, I wonder what it could be. I bet it’s progressive.

Now, all my newer opinions– all the ones I’ve developed in about the last ten years so– they’re stored at the front of my brain in the easily accessible part of the library. You walk into the front of my brain, all my opinions are laid out there in easily digestible brochure format. There’s a comments section, they can all be updated at a moment’s notice. It’s a very, very efficient system. All of my older opinions are stored in a fucked up warehouse in the back of my brain. Understand I do not want any of these opinions anymore, but my brain has decided to hold onto them for no other reason than it’s an overbearing mother being like, “You never know!”

It’s a ramshackle clusterfuck of different horrible opinions. Some of them are set in stone, and that’s annoying. But the whole place is run by a lovely old man. His name is Nigel, he wears a monocle, you’d like him. Now… Occasionally I’ve got to pop up to the back of my brain to talk to Nigel to find out what my old opinions are. So I pop upstairs– he’s always happy to see me. I’ll be like, hey Nigel. And he’s like, “Mister… Mr. Sloss, how are you?” I’m good, Nige. I’m just– just looking for an old opinion of mine. “Oh, you’ve certainly come to the right place. “What older opinion can I interest you in? Oh, is it your crush on the Olsen twins?” Oh, no, no. That is fucking old though. You can actually just throw that out, Nigel. I think they’re dead. “Oh, okay, well, what opinion is it you’re after then, Mr. Sloss?” Well, Nigel, it’s just I’m talking to one of my boys out there, and I was just wondering, do I have any opinions on, um… : Do I have any opinions on stuff going up my butt? “Stuff going up your butt?” Aye. “Um…” “Aye. Aye, you do. I can’t see it there. “But if I remember correctly, you definitely thought about it. “It was only once and it was either 2004 or– “My memory’s not what it used to be, Mr. Sloss. “2005, yes, that was it. 2005. “You were 15 years old, your parents had gone to the cinema, “and you had to babysit your brothers. “Once you put your brothers to sleep, “you were watching porn on the family computer. “And in one of the pornos, the woman shoved her finger up the man’s ass. You were very confused. You thought she was trying to reset him.” “Here you go, Mr. Sloss, 2005. “It’ll be in here somewhere. Just give me two seconds. Okay.” “Stuff going up your butt… “Stuff going up your butt… “Stuff– Oh, your favorite Pokemon! “No? Well… “Jigglypuff and… “Oh, here we go, 2005. Here we go, Mr. Sloss, 2005. 15 years old… “Stuff going up your butt, stuff going up your butt… Gay!”

Aah, no! Nigel, I can’t have that be my opinion on that. “Oh, why ever not, Mr. Sloss?” Because it’s fucking homophobic, Nigel. “But, Mr. Sloss, you are homophobic.” I beg your pardon, Nigel. I am absolutely not homophobic. “Mr. Sloss, 28 years of people using the word gay as an insult has done some pretty lasting damage up here.” Huh! Real– Real– Oh! I just– I just– I– No, come on! Surely, we must have got rid of all the homophobia back in 2007. Surely, there must’ve been a clear out. Remember? Seventeenth birthday, we were in St. Andrews. We got really, really drunk, then we went outside and we shared a joint with that guy. He leaned in, then you leaned in, and we kissed for at least a minute. And I thought in that moment, we realized that maybe sexuality was more of a spectrum as opposed to a binary thing. “Oh, no, Mr. Sloss, that’s over there in issues.” Oh, cool, leave it there. Anyway, Nigel, I’m not really comfortable having a homophobic opinion anymore. So, if you can just throw this one out, and I’ll give you my new non-homophobic opinion, and I can move on with my life. “Eh, that’s not really how this works, Mr. Sloss. “You see, you developed this opinion before you were 18. “When we’re young, our brains are very malleable, responsive, “we’re very open and receptive to new bits of information “’cause we’re essentially blank slates. “So, nothing’s really right or wrong for us. “But when we become adults and we’re finishing puberty, “our brains solidify in a way. “Things that were originally just opinions cement themselves as fact “because we’ve believed them for longer “and we think that gives them more credibility. “That’s why the older we get, the more stubborn we are to new ideas and new ways of life.” And I’m like, that is absolutely riveting, Nigel. Change the fucking opinion. Nigel, I can’t have a homophobic opinion. It’s 2019, and I’m not even trying to virtue signal at this point anymore, Nigel, but in the past five years, I’ve actually been to more gay weddings than I’ve been to straight weddings. “But… but, Mr. Sloss, all weddings are gay.” Fuck, that’s not still in there is it?

You have to be able to change your old opinions. It’s hard, but you have to be able to do it. I struggle with it sometimes. I’m a fucking stubborn motherfucker. I’m trying to get better at it. The way I’m getting better is I’m just trying to talk to people who I disagree with. Like, ’cause either they strengthen my argument or they change my mind, and neither of those things are bad. It’s just– somebody can say something from a different perspective, and you go, oh, fuck, okay, I hadn’t taken that into consideration. You’re still wrong, but thanks. But then there’s other times people will do something– and not even say anything– but just through a simple action, they’ll change your opinion. You’ll just go, holy fuck, okay, I was wrong.

For example, a couple of months ago, I was having sex with a girl and she shoved her finger up my ass, and… …it was a lot like being in the Matrix, because I learned karate in two seconds. She just shoved it up there, and I was like, No, no, never! Hi-yah! Be gone! Never! Ooh, ah! Ooh, ooh, ooh. Ooh… ah! Oh! Ha-ha-ha! Ho, ho! Namaste. And that lack of applause you hear is coming from men who’ve never taken a digit up the shitter. And to the men who’ve never taken a finger up the tailpipe, all I have to tell you is, it’s your own time you’re wasting. You are punishing no one apart from yourself. And you can sit there being a fucking “man” about it, be like, “Oh, no. No, it’s not for me.” Scientifically, it is. Scientifically, it’s right up your alley, no pun intended. That’s where your clit is. It’s a shit clit, but it’s a clit nonetheless. Just a little button halfway up there that makes everything taste like ice cream, except the finger obviously. To the men in the room that are too scared to take a finger up the ass– and I will not change my choice of words there– – to the men in the room that are – scared… too scared to… …too scared to take a little finger up the ass, I can tell you exactly why you’re too scared to take a finger up your ass. It is because deep down, this is what your insecurity is. Deep down you don’t think it’s a button up there. You think it’s a switch. That’s it. That is all your pathetic little insecurity is. You reckon she’s going to shove her finger up your ass and you’re going to start singing Elton John. And that is… so homophobic even Nigel’s like, “Jesus Christ.”

So, I don’t necessarily like, you know, the narrative that we pitch about pensioners nowadays. You know, all old people are racists, all old people are bigots. Like, yeah, sure, half of them are, but they’ll all be dead soon. Just a little bit, of course, they’ve got out-of-date opinions, they’re fucking ancient. Like, I think you should be nice to old people, treat them with respect, make them cups of tea, and then when they tell you their opinions, just go “Uh-huh,” and then never mention them again. Let them die with them. Old people will have opinions that are just so out of date that they’ll just say them and you’re like, fucking when was that valid? They’ll just say things that aren’t even hateful, they’re just, “Blah. “Back in my day we didn’t have depression or anxiety. We just called it being sad, and we got on with our days.” All right, cool, that’s a medical misdiagnosis. That’s the equivalent of saying, “Back in my day we didn’t have breast cancer. We just called it itchy tits and we died at 37.”

Like… Yeah, well, now we have medicine and names for things and the world is largely better. Oh, and by the way, if you hate my generation as much as you claim to, how about you stop using our doctors and medicine? See you in the ground, cunt. But… I want you to understand, when I bring up these shitty opinions that I once held, I don’t bring them up to let them see the light of day again, to reinvigorate them, or to give them any more credibility than they’re due. I bring them up to show you that I used to be a piece of shit. I mean, I still am one, but I’m getting better. And that’s allowed. Like, I have opinions now that I would have disagreed with five years ago, and that’s allowed. I have opinions now that I might disagree with in five years’ time, and that’s allowed. Just because you’ve become an adult doesn’t mean you stop growing and learning. And if you do, you fucking suck. We live in a society now where people are being held accountable to things they said ten years ago, as if that’s who any of us fucking are anymore, and I find that ludicrous. Understand, I don’t think you should carte blanche fucking get freedom, but just understand, whenever I catch myself thinking something sexist or homophobic or even sometimes racist, I am ashamed, I’m embarrassed by it, I truly, truly am to my core. Because that’s not who I am, that’s not who I want to be. The solace I take from it is, I realize that none of my shitty opinions, they’ve never come from a place of hatred. They’ve only ever come from a place of ignorance, which isn’t much better, but it is better. Hate and ignorance go hand-in-hand, but ignorance is more easy to cure. And everyone is fucking ignorant. I don’t give a fuck who you are. You’ve lived one life, 7.5 billion are available. You don’t know shit about everyone else. Like, not something to be proud of. Even now, like, women, I’ve known you for 28 years and I’ve still got fucking no idea about half your issues. I’m trying to get better, I’m trying to learn, but it’s a slow fucking process.

I’m going to talk to you. What’s your name?


Nick. Nick, can I ask you a question? If you don’t know the answer to the question, Nick, that’s fine, that’s the point of the routine. I also don’t know the answer, we can be idiots together. If you do know the answer to the question, I’ll look like a fucking moron. It’s win-win for you. Are you happy to participate? Cool. Nick, how do tampons work? Not a fucking clue? I admire your honesty. And your girlfriend’s like, “What, why would he know?” Okay, I’m with you, I’m with you. Um, I’m saying I know how one form of sanitary product works, and that is the Moon Cup. Now, do you know about the Moon Cup, Nick? Little bit? That’s cool. I’ll explain. Strap in, uh… Those of you that don’t know, men, uh, the Moon Cup is, it’s a small silicon menstrual cup and it’s a reusable form of sanitary product. And the reason it exists is because women don’t get free tampons. Because as we all know tampons are rightfully classified as luxury items. Uh, sitting on your thrones of joy! Oh, as a man, I dream but to one day afford a tampon. Ah, how the other half live! Women, you truly do get it all. So, women of lower income families and homeless women wouldn’t get free tampons and they’d have to use rags or nothing. And they’d get infections and there’s a high mortality rate. Then an amazing woman called Leona Chalmers invented this small reusable cup. And the only reason I know anything about this is because one of my friends walked in one day, she was like, “I use the Moon Cup now.” And I was like, “Ew!” And then she hit me, and that’s fair. And afterwards, I was like, okay, can I ask you a bunch of questions about it? She’s like, “Of course you can. That’s the only way you’ll stop being ignorant. What would you like to know?” And I was like, how do you…? How do you actually– How do you get it up– I just– How do you get it up there? I just don’t– How do you get an open end up an open end? Like, I just… Like, that’s not how you stack cups. Like… Like, that’s how you make horse noises in Monty Python. Like, that’s not… I don’t… And she was like, “It’s very simple, Dan. You go Italian and then you appreciate.” I was like, ah-ha-ha. Okay. Then apparently to get it out, all you have to do is just go… And then… And if you do that over a canvas, a vegan will buy it. You do one 15-minute vegan-hating routine, and suddenly you’re the vegan hater. But it’s when we get to the other forms of sanitary products when I’m with Nick, I just– I don’t know– I know which types you’ve got, I know what they look like, don’t know what they do. I know you’ve got the, uh… You’ve got the little fucking free-range bullets. I know those ones just, uh… the wee sad ones at the bottom of your handbags. Those are the ones that leave– There’s a-snake- in-my-boot string. I know that. Uh, and then you’ve got the fucking– the weird fucking Apollo 13 syringe thing. Like, it expands– It’s like the memory thing from Men in Black. Like, pew. I don’t– I’ve got theories on how that works. I think it’s like a– I think it’s like a push in and scoosh. But even if that is the case, I still got more questions. Like, does it feel good? And women are disgusted by the concept of that question. Every time I’m like, they’re like,”No, no. Why would it feel good?” Fine. Jesus. Okay. Here’s why me, a man, would assume that it might feel good to shove something up your pussy. Because… you obviously don’t know what it’s like to have a dick. And dicks are morons. Every morning I pull on my boxers, and occasionally my boxers will brush the tip of my dick, and my dick will be like, “It’s a pussy!” And I’m like… Where do you see a pussy? “I thought I felt one.” Mm-hmm. And where is it now? “You must have scared it off.” Oh, ho-ho-ho. I’m gonna beat you to death. So… So, I was like learn– just learn how the tampons work. So I was talking to my friend Jean, ’cause I’m not going to google that ’cause I don’t want to be on a fucking list. And I was like, Jean, how do tampons work? And she was like, “Please tell me how you think tampons work.” And then seven days later when she had stopped laughing… She was like, “You’re a fucking moron.” And I was like, well, I’m not a total moron. Like, I know how the pads work. Turns out I don’t know how the pads work. What’s your name there? Alex. Lovely to meet you, Alex. Very simple question for you, Alex. Uh, you know the sticky bits on pads? What do the sticky bits stick onto? On to your underwear, correct. Not what I thought. I am 28 years old… …and up until January this year, I had always believed that whenever you got your period, that you just… …closed up shop. Like a Texas farm during a hurricane. “Storm’s a coming!” “Oh, it’s going to be the largest one since 1979.” Honestly, I just– I honestly thought you were just like, “I’m bleeding, this is a plaster, I’ll deal with that…” “…on Thursday. Pick the scabs on Monday.” Aw, write a fucking blog about it.

Now, I will point out, it’s not my fault I don’t know that. I was never taught how tampons work. Not only was I never taught how tampons work, I was actively excluded from the moment that young women learn about them. Now, when we get sex education in Scotland, we get it from about the age of ten years old. And they do teach about periods and stuff, but when they teach the girls about tampons, they take the girls through to another room with a nurse, so she can explain how the tampons work. And I get that. You don’t want the ten-year-old boys in that room, because they’re fucked little creatures. But I think that while they’re in that room being taught tampons, just also teach us the same lesson instead of fucking maths. Because like I want– I do– I should know. We should all know how tampons work. ‘Cause I’m going to be a father one day, and I’m going to have daughters. My daughters are going to get periods. I don’t know when, they don’t know when. That’s the fun thing about periods. But their mother might not be around for their first period. She might be at work, she might be dead. Who knows what the future holds? Hey, itchy tits is very common. I want to be able to explain to my daughters how to use tampons, man. I don’t want to be crouched in a bathroom with a 12-year-old, holding a tampon going, I don’t know. Take a run up? And I’m not criticizing sex education. I think sex education is one of the most important things in the entire world. Sex doesn’t need to be terrifying the first time we have it. I believe the reason most of us are terrified the first time we have sex is ’cause we know so little about it. ‘Cause even when you are given sex education in countries like Scotland and over here, they’ll teach you some bits, but not everything you need to know. Like it’s– it can be terrifying and stuff. Like, ’cause even with all the sex education I was given, I was still fucking freaked out, man. The first time I fingered a girl terrified me. I was 16 years old, right? And the reason it scared me is just because, like, the vagina is just way, way, way, lower… than I had anticipated because… ‘Cause it’s, it’s fucking– it’s right under there. Like it’s– ’cause my dick’s on the front. That’s where my dick is. So, that’s where I thought the pussy was. I didn’t know you’d hidden the thing. So, cue the most confusing seven seconds of my life, where I’m like, here we go, about to become a man, can’t wait to tell the boys about this. Where the fuck is this thing? Are you a Barbie? What is this?! Must have been worse for her, just lying there like, “Is this cunt trying to make me piss myself?” Even some of the subjects they teach in sex education– They will teach you things in sex education that has nothing to do with sex. They will teach you things that only doctors need to know. “All right, boys and girls, pay attention to this diagram, “’cause this diagram is crucial to having sex. “This is the labia… “This is the vulva… Uh, this is the vuvuzela.” “These are the fallopian tubes.” And you’re like, cool! What do you want me to do with that information? “These are the ovaries.” Listen, if I ever see the ovaries, I’ve fucked up. Like… I fucked up quite substantially. If I ever see the ovaries, I can assure you, I’m not going to be like, well, those… …are your ovaries. I’m gonna be like… What have I done? Where’s the clit? I’m gonna google it anyway!

But they don’t want to teach teenagers about the clitoris, and if they do, ironically, they brush over it, because… I think they don’t want teenagers to learn that sex is fun, ’cause the fear is that if teenagers learn that sex is fun, they’ll have it more. Now, as with all fears, it’s fucking horseshit. When you don’t teach teenagers enough about sex, they become curious. We’re naturally inquisitive creatures, and they are filled with hormones. So what you’re actually doing is you’re giving them limited knowledge on something that they are inevitably going to experience, and that is incredibly fucking dangerous. Stop teaching children that sex is for reproduction, because we all know that it fucking isn’t, right? Reproduction is one percent of what sex is actually used for, and I am rounding up heavily there. Most of us have had sex. Some of you will have had sex to have children. Those of you that have had sex to have children, I hope will be willing to admit that most of the time you’ve ever fucked was explicitly to not have children! Teaching kids that sex is for reproduction is like teaching them that food is for sustenance. Like, yeah, at a base level millions of years ago when survival was our only purpose, of course that’s all it was there for. But it’s grown and evolved and changed with us. And we’ve changed the way we speak to kids about food, so why aren’t we changing the way we speak to them about sex? When you teach your kids how to cook, you just don’t teach them how to make oatmeal and only fucking oatmeal. “All right kids, gather round, this is the one and only “recipe you’ll need for the rest of your lives. And even then only when you’re starving!” “Don’t google any others, you filthy little pervert. “So… “What you do is you get the oats and you get the water.” “My mom makes chicken wings.” “Your mother’s a whore, Jason.” Sex isn’t for reproduction. Sex is for love, lust, revenge. Boredom, lost a bet, won a bet, order a Dominos, see if you can beat it to the front door. Also, I’m not suggesting you teach the science side of sex. The science side of sex is absolutely fucked, right? The science side of sex is– Here’s what I was told when I was young. Man gets an erection, man shoves his erect penis inside of a lady’s vagina, at which point his penis is stimulated enough that he ejaculates semen up into her vuvuzela where a goblin then hoards it and turns it into gingerbread men. Who gives a shit? Only a doctor and midwife need to know about that. Because when I was 12 years old, all that manifested itself in my brain as was, women are vessels. Because what I was told was, here’s what sex is. Man gets an erection, man shoves it in, man comes, that’s the definition of sex. By the sounds of things, she’s just lying there the whole time like– “Thanks.” “That was real nice of you to do that for me.” “I’ll just go turn this into an Uber driver, shall I?” I was never taught that women enjoyed sex. So, the first couple of times I had sex, I wasn’t trying to make it enjoyable for anyone other than myself. Thank God for my first girlfriend! First time we fucked, she was like, “I didn’t come.” And I was like, “You fucking come?” I was never taught that women enjoyed sex. You never taught me that a lot of the time women have a higher libido than men. You never taught me that some of them like to be choked. That was a weird day! I could have done with that information a lot fucking sooner than I got it! You want me to what? What? Do I like this? And I’m not suggesting we get teachers to teach this type of sex education. We do not pay teachers enough money to say the word orgasm 50 times in front of a bunch of 12-year-olds. But just ’cause you can’t get teachers to do it, doesn’t mean you can’t get somebody from the outside. Somebody that’s going to be fun and engaging with the kids. Somebody that they know is there to talk to them openly and honestly about sex. Someone they’re not scared to ask questions to. Someone that’s sort of fun, charismatic, with stage presence. I’ll do it. I’ll do it for free. I’d fucking kill for that job. Hi, boys and girls, my name is Daniel Sloss, but the girls call me Daddy. I’ll get onto that in a second. All right, boys, first things first, the vagina way lower. Way… lower than it has any right to be quite frankly. Just keep going, and if you go too far, trust me, she’ll fucking tell you. Second thing second, some of them squirt. It might be piss, but none of us care at this point. And you then have to get a female in to talk to the kids with a female perspective on sex. She can go on before me, after me, doesn’t matter. She’ll be, “Hi, boys and girls, my name’s Miss Jack. “I need to talk to you about the woman’s experience during sex. “And to the young boys in the classroom, this can be quite nerve-wracking. “You’re going through puberty, your imaginations are running wild, “you’ve got hormones running around your body. “Probably sitting there quite nervous going ‘Oh, God, “this is going to be so nerve-wracking. What do I do, what do I do?’ “Well, let’s get all the curiosity out the way right up top, because it’s all natural.” “There you go, that’s a vagina. Look at it!” “Now, boys pay attention, this is a real pussy. “This ain’t one of those porno pussies. This one’s been to ‘Nam, okay?” “This is the labia, this is the vulva, this is the vuvuzela.” “This is the, um… What the fuck is that? “Oh, that’s a tampon string, I apologize.” “Sorry. No, no, boys, it’s not disgusting actually. “In fact, it’s perfectly natural. In fact, any volunteers? “Any? “No? Real men do it with their teeth? “All right boys, get your notepads out. “Just up here, look boys. This is where the clitoris is. “It’s actually surprisingly easy to find. “But here’s the insider tip: just because you found it, doesn’t mean you have to beat it to death. “Be gentle! It’s not Osama Bin Laden. “Just because you found it, doesn’t mean it has to die. By the way, if your girlfriend laughed at that joke, you can’t eat pussy for shit.

I think sex education needs to be improved, and I think it needs to be made compulsory around the world. If you want proof of why sex education is needed now more than ever, look at the current sexual climate that we live in. Exactly. Things aren’t going very well. A lot of people don’t seem to know the rules. Or if they do know the rules, they don’t seem to care. It’s very, very easy to not sexually assault someone. Watch. Nailed it. Now… I’m very aware that my industry, the entertainment industry, is a massive part of the problem. It’s where the MeToo movement started. Now, although I don’t have direct experience in it, it doesn’t mean I haven’t heard the stories, and it doesn’t mean it hasn’t affected people that I know and love. My agent/manager, who I’ve been with 11 years now, ten years ago she was told by somebody very, very, very high up from the BBC that if she wanted her TV show for one of her clients, she had to suck his dick. Right? Yeah. And she said no, which makes me question her commitment. But, um… But– but despite her selfishness, my career has flourished. I’m assuming Netflix was anal. Mainly because I gave Netflix anal.

Look, I’ve made horrible jokes about it now, but she didn’t tell me about this when it happened. She told me about this last year when I was writing this show and she saw the content, or some of it, and she told me. And I was like, why didn’t you tell me about this when it happened? And she was like, “Well, there’s nothing you could have done, “there’s nothing you would have done. And why would I tell you about one in ten experiences?” And that was a moment that really fucking hit me in the chest. Well, oh, Jesus Christ, I… I didn’t know it was that common. Now, regardless of what your stance on the MeToo movement is, the conclusion everyone has to have arrived at by now is that this shit is horrifically common, ’cause that’s just there in the stats. Like 50 women came forward about Bill Cosby. Eighty women came forward about Harvey Weinstein. Yet there are still some people who will look at that and go, “Well, I guess we’ll never know what happened.” Fucking hell, I bet you were shite at Blues Clues. Man, if 50 women accused me of sexual assault, I’d think I’d done it. It’s too many to not be true. If 50 women are like, “You sexually assaulted us,” I’d be like, fuck, did I? I must have! There’s no other reason why you would all say that. Unless you all had a meeting in the bathroom– I know what’s up. Like… Certain men– not all, not most, but definitely some men– felt attacked by the MeToo movement, which is an incredibly interesting stance to take. If you feel under attack by the MeToo movement, here’s my question for you. What have you done? Like, what alarm bell is going off in the back of your head? ‘Cause I think most men had a similar reaction to the MeToo movement that I did. Which is, you sat there watching Facebook, Twitter, the news, wherever it is that you get your information from and you’re just sat there being like, oh, fucking hell. Okay, I knew it was a problem, but I didn’t realize it was this big. Oh, my God, okay, this is everywhere. Oh, my God, I didn’t realize it affected that many women I know. Fucking hell, I feel a bit closed-minded. Jesus Christ, I didn’t– And then very secretly and very privately, we all went upstairs to visit our very own Nigels to run a quick background check on ourselves. Zero shame in double-checking. That’s the first thing I did. I ran straight upstairs and I was like, Nigel! And he was like, “Mr. Sloss!” I went, zero time for that shit, Nigel. There’s some very serious stuff going on outside. I need you to run through every single sexual encounter I’ve ever had and make sure it was all above board and consensual. And he was like, “You know, that might take a while.” And then we high-fived. And then… And then seven days later… He was like, “Mr. Sloss, just double-checked. As we thought, you’re all in the clear.” I was like, that’s excellent news, Nigel. I’m going to go assist the movement. But some men went to visit their Nigels, and their Nigels were like, “Burn it down!” And these are the men that are trying to change the narrative of the MeToo movement, and they’re doing it in a very, very intelligent way. They’re doing it via deflection. They’re bringing up things that are important but not necessary to what the discussion is about. They’ll say things like, “What about men? Men get sexually assaulted too.” Yes, yes they do. By men. Eighty-four percent of male sexual assault survivors were sexually assaulted by men. “But what about all the false allegations?” Well, less than one percent of rape allegations are false. “Well, it’s a witch hunt! It’s a bloody witch hunt!” Well, it’s not. Mainly ’cause witches didn’t exist. That’s why witch hunts were shitty. Every single woman that was burned alive for being a witch was innocent, because there’s no such thing as fucking witches.

There are such things as rapists. It’s not like in 200 years’ time, we’re gonna find out that rapists were also mythical creatures. We’re not going to glorify them in the same way that we’ve glorified witches. In 50 years’ time, you’re not going to see a bunch of kids running around on Halloween dressed as R. Kelly. No.

If you’ve ever seen my live shows before, you’ll understand that they follow a very similar format every year. I do about 70 to 75 minutes worth of jokes. Jokes that I enjoy telling, jokes that I sincerely hope you enjoy listening to. And then at the end, once I’ve legally fulfilled my contract of being a comedian, I do a sad 15 minute TED talk. Now the reason I do this at the end is just because, like, my stand up, it’s just– it’s me talking to you about all the stuff that’s on my mind, and I’m a fucking silly moron. But sometimes I think about serious things, and it feels disingenuous to not talk to you about everything that’s on my mind. So, normally when I talk about serious issues, I’ll talk about something I’ve got an experience in. I don’t think that’s crucial. It’s just a choice I’ve made so far. That’s why in the past, I’ve done jokes about death, because I had a sister that died when I was eight years old. I’ve done jokes about disability. She had cerebral palsy. I’ve done jokes about having a giant dick. It’s a burden I must bear. But when it comes to sexual assault, even though I’ve never been sexually assaulted and I’ve never done a sexual assault, to say that it doesn’t affect me just isn’t true, because it affects people I know and love and that in turn affects me. Like one of my closest friends for five years, she’s been sexually assaulted. You don’t get to tell me that this isn’t a me issue too. A little bit of a backstory to her. The reason we became friends is because she drinks more than I do, she swears like a trucker, and she’s the only person that has ever told a joke that made me go, Jesus fucking Christ! And she’s done that on three separate occasions. And I will tell you all three. Me and her were having a dinner, uh, last year. Just we happened to be in the same city. I was gigging, she was working there, pure fucking coincidence. Went out for food after the show. While we were out having food, second coincidence of the day happened. Two of my guy friends walked by. I’m like, what the fuck are you cunts doing here? They’re like, “We’re getting shit-faced. Do you want to come?” I was like, uh-huh. And they were like, “Who’s that?” And I introduced them. And it was one of those nerve-wracking moments. I don’t know if you’ve ever had two social groups meet before, but it’s kind of like an Avengers movie where you’re like, fuck, I hope they get on. And they did, and they got out, we went drinking. Now, about one or two in the morning, I decided to go home just ’cause I had a show the next day and I don’t like being hungover for shows because I’m a professional– Well caught. That is the first lie of the show. Somebody gave me a joint, and I went home for a wank. And… I had a great wank. Thank you for asking. Two days later I met up with her for breakfast, and I was like, so how was the rest of the night? She was like, “I’m not telling you.” And I was like, Oh, ho-ho-ho-ho. Fuck yes! It’s the international sign of gossip. She goes, “I’m not telling you.” And I’m like, oh, you will. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me. Eventually I managed to get her to crack. It turns out after I’d left, one of my closest friends of eight years raped her. Which is not information that I wanted to receive over breakfast. Uh, or at any meal. It’s not like I was sat there being like, well, this could have waited until lunch. I was horrified, I was shocked, I was angry, I believed her. Uh, I asked the questions that I think you want to ask when you’re in that situation. I was like, are you okay? And she was like, “No!” And I was like, yeah, no, fair point, stupid question. Can I have another one please? And then I asked a question that I didn’t want to ask. Now, in hindsight I understand that I should not have asked this question, but I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I didn’t. It was a ignorant question and it came from an ignorant man. I asked the question. I said, I have to ask, I’ve known this guy for eight years. Did you… did you say no? And these are her words not mine. She went, “Yeah, more times than the 2 Unlimited song.” To which I said… Fucking wh– Fucking what song? And she was like, “Oh for Christ– You know the…

♪ No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, there’s no limit ♪

Now… I’m with most of you. As a human being that makes me immeasurably sad, but as a comedian, muwah! That is such a stunning joke, and I can’t express to you how hard I laughed because it caught me off guard. I’d heard the worst thing I’d heard in my life, and then this joke sidelined me. And I saw the look in her eyes. I know that look of “just fucking say it.” Like, it made me laugh so much. ‘Cause I understand making jokes about a serious subject does not mean that you do not take it seriously. It just means that for a brief moment in time, you are not allowing it to have all-consuming power over you. I understand the catharsis of laughing at trauma. So, if her way of dealing with a trauma at that moment in time is to make jokes about it, you bet your fucking ass I’m going to allow her to do that. Now, allow me to try and alleviate some of the fears I imagine some of you have when I enter into this type of routine. First things first, I’ve asked if I can tell her story on stage. It’s one of the first things I did. Since she’s been through this, we’ve been spending a lot of time together. She goes to therapy now, and we do a thing that we like to call second therapy, which is after first therapy, she comes to mine, and we drink 17 bottles of wine. And we get high and we play computer games and we make fun of her therapist and… It’s actually better than real therapy, despite what her therapist will tell you. But what the fuck does she know? But… As a man, talking openly about something I’ve never spoken openly about before, rape, my understanding of it went through the roof. And that’s not a bad thing. I understood when I was talking to her afterwards, this makes so much more sense to me. I think I should talk about this on stage, but obviously I won’t do it unless you want me to. Can I tell your story on stage? And she said, “Yes, but when has my permission ever been needed for anything?” Well… Except I didn’t do that. I laughed at that joke for 25 minutes. Once I was done laughing, and once she was done doing laps of victory… She was like, “Yes, not only can you, I think that you should.” So, I’m going to. And this is when we arrive at this point in the show. You’ve all paid to see a comedy show, and I’m now talking about rape. And some of you, rightfully, do not want me to try and make that funny. So here we are… uncomfortable. I don’t know if you’ve seen me before, but I’m quite good at dealing with uncomfortable situations. Mainly because I create them. Gonna ask for a little bit of trust here. Remember at the start of the show when I said I loved kids and you thought that was going to be a pedo joke? Turns out it was a nice joke about how much I loved my goddaughter. Gonna ask for the same type of trust here. Trust that my heart’s in the right place. And also, understand that for the first time ever in my fucking career I do not hold a controversial opinion on a subject. Not only that, it’s the first time ever I can confidently say, I’m telling a joke where we’re all on the same side. We’re all on the same side. We all agree that rape is the worst thing you can do. It is the worst thing you can do. Murder is justifiable. Of course it is. Not legally but to us. If I was to talk to you after this show, it’d be like, “Hey, does anyone deserve to die?” You’d be like, “Daniel! What a horrible thing to say! Why on earth would you ever–? Yeah, who’s on your list?” You can under some extreme circumstances justify murder. You cannot under any circumstance justify rape. That’s why you’ve never been asked the moral question in philosophy, “Hey, if you could go back in time, would you rape Hitler?” N-N-No. “No, but like when he’s a baby?” That’s much worse! Rape is the worst thing you can do. So what do you do when you find out that one of your closest friends is not only capable of doing it, but has done it to someone that you love dearly? Um, I didn’t handle it well. I’m still not handling it that well to be honest with you. It’s a tough thing to process. It’s a hard thing to come to terms with. He was one of my closest friends. My initial reaction wasn’t a fucking strong one. It was one of, you know, toxic masculinity, one of violence. The caveman in my brain was like, “Shall I take over?” And I was like, 100 %. If there was ever a time to hunter-gatherer, it’s fucking now. All I wanted to do was just find him and just pin him down and put his head on the side of the curb and just stamp on his head repeatedly until he was dead. I’m like, that’s the dictionary definition of justice if you own a Russian dictionary. And… I stood up and I was like, I’m going to go beat him up. And she was like, “Oh, for fuck sake. “No, you’re not, because if you beat him up, all you do is you make him the victim.” And I was like, I dunno what to do with all of this anger! And she was like, “Now you know how I feel.” And I was like, whoa, I’ll just get back into my place. I’ll be here when you need me. Do you know the WiFi– doesn’t matter. She let me confront him, I was allowed to do that. I wanted to– It wasn’t going to change my opinion of him. But, yeah, I wanted to hear what he had to say for himself. I wanted to hear the words of a man I thought I knew. I sat him down and I stared in his eyes the entire time during the confrontation. I didn’t break eye contact at any point. It was a lot like a game of hide-and-seek. I looked dead into his eyes, I accused him, and he admitted it. He fucking admitted it. Oh, he made his excuses. “Oh, man, it was an accident, I didn’t mean to. “I was drunk, it won’t happen again. Just back me up this once.” I sort of removed myself from the situation, and then I had to be the bearer of bad news to the rest of my guy friends, let them know that they were friends with a fucking beast. They reacted with the same level of maturity that I did. They were like, “We should beat the shit out of him.” And I was like, we can’t beat the shit out of him. Apparently if we beat the shit out of him, he becomes the victim. And they were like, “We don’t know what to do with all this anger!” And I was like, now you know how women feel. And they were like, “Fuck, that’s deep.” And I was like, I know, I thought of it myself. I’m just so woke, ugh! We sat down, we discussed it with each other. It wasn’t a long discussion. It was– We decided to do what we thought was right. I don’t know if this was right, but this is what we did. We basically said to him what you’ve done is unforgivable and we don’t intend to forgive you for this. Like, we don’t have your back throughout this. You’re not our friend anymore. We want to believe this isn’t who you are, but clearly it is. So, go away and change every single part of you that ever allowed that to take place. Stop drinking, stop doing drugs, go to therapy. And even once you’ve done all those things, continue to fuck off ’cause we just don’t want to hang out with you anymore. We found out two months after that had taken place that he was still drinking, still doing drugs, hadn’t gone to therapy. And we now know that it was not an isolated incident. And he’s still out there. People have asked if she’s going to go to the police. That’s her decision. I’ve encouraged her to go to the police. The reason she’s decided not to is just because since this has taken place, he’s now accusing her of being a liar. He’s changed his story. He’s now accusing me of being a liar. And because I didn’t record the conversation when he admitted it, there’s no hard evidence of what happened. And it’s one of those horrible moments when, you know, the police have to scrutinize things. And for her, it’s just not something that she wants to go through. And she was like, “Look, I don’t want to go through this. “It’s just like– I’ve got to get past this as much as I can myself. “And I don’t want to be seen as a victim if it goes public. ‘Cause I’m not a victim, I’m a survivor.” And I was like, well that is a bit of an understatement. I’ve been with you through most of this process. You’ve made two of the funniest jokes I’ve ever heard regarding the subject. I have never seen strength like it. You took a rape on the chin– not my finest comment. And she was like “Actually, I can’t remember where he finished.” I’m going to need you to stop doing that. “That’s what I said.” She is funnier and stronger than I’ll ever be. She’s also not wrong. If every single woman who has experience of sexual assault was to go to the police, there are not enough police officers or courtrooms in the world to deal with the problem. And that’s not even taking into consideration that the problem goes all the way to the very top. And that’s not my way of saying you shouldn’t go to the police. It’s just my way of letting you know how big this fucking problem is. Ninety-seven percent of rapists will not spend a single day in jail. That is a real statistic. That is fucking abhorrent. So how do we fix that? How does society– how do we fix this? How do we stop this happening? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past year. Over and over and over again. How do you fix this? How do you stop this? How do you prevent this from happening? And I’ve got no answers, man. The only thing I can think of is it has to involve us. And by us, I mean men. Now, to the women in the room, I know you know this. None of this is new information to you. You’ve lived your life, you’ve got your experiences, and your voices are more important and necessary in this discussion than mine. That being said, I would still like to lend my voice to the discussion. And to the men in the room, I want to make something crystal clear. This isn’t an attack. I’m not accusing you of anything. And more importantly, I’m not accusing your friends of anything. I’m just trying to tell you my experience, and this is my experience. I knew this man for eight years, and he fucking did it. There are monsters amongst us, and they look like us. If you are sick of the narrative that’s currently going on about men, feel free to change it, but you have to get involved. Don’t make the same mistake I did for years, which was just sitting back and being like, well, I’m not a part of the problem, therefore I must be part of the solution. ‘Cause that’s just not how this fucking shit works. I believe and deep down I know that most men are good. Of course we are. But when one in ten men are shit and the other nine do nothing, they might as well not fucking be there. Being good on the inside counts for absolutely fuck all. You have to actively be good and get involved. Instead of having this fucking hero complex of being like, “I’m going to beat up a rapist,” fucking prevent one, stop one, because I know it can be done because I know how I fucking failed at it. Because if I’m being 100 % honest with myself, were there signs in my friend’s behavior over the years towards women that I ignored? The answer is yes. And then he raped my friend, and that’s on me until the day I die. Talk to your fucking boys. Get involved. ‘Cause I’m going to be honest with you lads, women are trying their hardest to not get raped. Like, every day, they try to not get raped. I think it’s their priority. Mine’s is WiFi. I can’t do much. I just won’t do nothing anymore. And I’m just suggesting that you do the same. Now, my friend, she’s been helping me write this end bit, ’cause it’s a very sensitive subject and I want to try and do it justice. And after the first preview, I was very, very nervous. And I ran up to her and I was like, what do you think? Do you think I’m making it too much about me? And she was like “Yeah, every second of every day.” “That’s what you’re doing right now, you fucking moron.” And I was like– It means I love you. She was like, “That’s the only way you can do it. “Only talk about it from your perspective. ‘Cause men will listen to you.” And they will. Because I look like them. And that’s not fair, but it’s true. So, maybe we can use it to our advantage. There’s a very famous experiment several years ago. Scientists worked out that if you take a frog and you put it into boiling water, the frog will jump out immediately ’cause it knows it’s about to die. Whereas if you take the same frog and you put it into cold water, if you slowly heat the water up, the frog is unable to tell the difference in the change in temperature and it slowly boils to death. I’ll be the water. Ladies, you’re boiling as you have every single right to be at this point in time. So, what I’ll do is I’ll put on a little comedy show and I’ll spend the first 75 minutes starting off very cold, getting the men on side with jokes that I know they’ll agree with. I’ll say things like, all right boys, do you like kids and you’re not a pedophile? And they’ll be like, “I do like kids and I’m not a pedophile.” “That’s very well observed.” “Interesting. I want to listen to more of what my twin brother has to say.” I’m like, all right, boys, do you like drinking? They’re like, “Fucking hell, I’m a complex individual, but that’s two for two. He’s absolutely nailed me.” “This is unbelievable. Is he a psychic or a comedian, what is this show?” Come on! “There’s no way he’ll get the third thing. The third thing would be impossible.” Pussies are confusing. “Fuck me dead.” “Never has a man seen into my soul so much.” And then I’ll slowly turn the temperature up. Now, don’t worry, I will leave on an actual joke, so we don’t all leave here sad. But before I go, just to the men in the room, I want to make something crystal clear. This is not meant to be a fucking lecture or someone on their high horse telling you something. It’s a man who fell off his fucking horse. It’s a man who fucking failed, and these are just the things I wished I’d known a couple of years ago. If you think this does not affect the women in your life, talk to them after this show and watch your world crumble before your very eyes. If you think this does not affect the women in your life, it’s not because it’s not happening to them. It’s because they don’t trust you enough to talk to you about it. And that’s the single worst thing I ever learned about myself. Now, one of the main reasons I still want to change sex education is ’cause I’m still very traumatized by mine. Because when we were ten years old, we were given the birthing video. Now… Oh, you’ve seen it? Maybe you were in it. Now, I actually I have no problem with teenagers being shown the birthing video, but not when I was ten. I was scared of the dark, never mind vagina. The first pussy I ever saw looked like the door from The Shining. And our head teacher, right? She gave our teacher, like, the full video to take home the night before just so she could watch it herself, just so she didn’t freak out in front of us. Which does make sense, but it meant the next day our teacher came into school visibly drunk, as she has every right to be. She gathers us all round the telly. She’s like, “Come on, you fucking, yeah.” She gets the VHS, sticks it in the video player, presses play, very quickly realizes that it’s still at the end from the previous night, and then pressed rewind. Some of you clearly remember how VHS works. It’s not like Netflix or DVDs. It doesn’t go straight back to the start, does it? Fuck! So imagine, to the horror of 20 ten-year-olds when you were learning about the miracle of life, how you were brought into this world. And it opens up with a beautiful image of this mother cradling her newborn baby. Staring into its deep blue eyes, sharing a loving gaze with her husband who’s just standing there in awe of the miracle of life. And then this fucking doctor just– Moonwalks in, confiscates the baby. Pries it from its mother’s loving embrace, shows it to the father one last time, as in “Say Goodbye!” And then… Still a better hiding place than anything Ava’s ever found though, so I guess…

Sydney, you’ve been a pleasure. I’ve been Daniel Sloss. Thank you very much, good night.


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