The show features Michael's unique take on life - from getting to grips with wine menus and restaurant etiquette, to obsessive Wii playing and condiment hierarchy in the kitchen cupboard.

(INAUDIBLE) ANNOUNCER: Wembley, please welcome Michael Mclntyre. (AUDIENCE CHEERING)

McINTYRE: Good evening. (WHOOPING) Hello, Wembley! (LAUGHING) Ah, good. And how are you? Good evening. Welcome. Welcome to my show. It’s Saturday night! (AUDIENCE CHEERING) Now, obviously, there would’ve been various different reactions to your seats tonight. People at the back, thank you so much for being here tonight. (LAUGHING) They’re miles away! (AUDIENCE LAUGHING) To a man, most of those people have sat down and gone, “These are shit seats. They’re shit seats. “We probably should’ve just bought the DVD. “It would be better just watching TV. “Is that even him? I mean, it might not even be him. “They could’ve just got any camp, Chinese man to run around. “For all I know, that’s Gok Wan.” (LAUGHING) So, Wembley, my local gig – I’ve just come down the North Circular to be here. Strange road, the North Circular. People live on it. There are houses on the North Circular. Who lives on a dual carriageway? (AUDIENCE LAUGHING) You never see anybody leaving their drive or entering their drive. I think if you move in, you die there because you can’t get out. You have to go 40 miles an hour to exit your driveway. Can you imagine the tension every morning of your life? (BREATHING HEAVILY) No, no! No, no. Now, go! You have to hope for traffic, then you can go out for the day. “Fantastic news, darling – gridlock. Let’s go out for lunch.”

I’m pretty pleased these gigs are going ahead, ’cause it’s been quite a tense few months. We put these gigs on sale, and then swine flu started to get really bad and nasty. And I thought it’s over, it’s not gonna happen. No one’s gonna come. And if they come, everyone’s going to be sitting there with masks and gloves on. Don’t you think it’s slightly ironic that Michael Jackson dies just as his look comes into fashion? I don’t trust anybody. I don’t trust… When people sneeze now, I no longer say, “Bless you.” I say, “Fuck you.” (MIMICS SNEEZE) “Fuck you!” I think on a run of sneezes I get more and more irate. ‘Cause you normally get more surprised when… (MIMICS SNEEZE) “Bless you.” (MIMICS SNEEZE) “Bless you.” (MIMICS SNEEZE) “Bless you.” (MIMICS SNEEZE) “Bless you.” I just get more pissed off. “Fuck you!” Wash your hands, that’s what they tell you to do. Keep washing your hands. ‘Cause this is how you transfer the virus, from hand to hand. Why don’t they just ban hand-shaking? If people weren’t hand-shaking, you wouldn’t transfer the virus. When people come over to me and go, “Nice to meet you”, all I see is a trotter, just… I’m like, “Yeah, whatever.” I’ll keep antibacterial gel in my hand, just waiting. When somebody goes, “Nice to meet you.” “And you.” (EXCLAIMS) ‘Cause in some cultures they don’t shake hands, and I could use this, you know, to my benefit, ’cause I can shift culture at any given moment, ’cause when I smile, I look like a fat Chinese man. So when people come over and go, “Nice to meet you”, I can just go… (IN CHINESE ACCENT) “Nice to meet you. “Nice to meet you.” “Oh, right, you’re Chinese. Sorry, yes. Nice to meet you.” (MIMICS SNEEZE) “Fuck wu!”

The best thing about being here at Wembley is it’s my local gig. I can go home at night. I can go home, I can… I can go home and see my family. See my boys, Lucas and Oscar. Quite middle class, let’s not lie about that. When I go to the park and I call Lucas – “Lucas!” – about three boys will normally go, “Yes, Daddy?” “Papa?” “Father, you called?” The other day I said, “Oscar”, and three dogs ran over. How awkward is that? “You named your child what I named my dog?” “I did. I didn’t know.” He’s got no manners, the four-year-old. I mean, it’s ’cause I have to teach him manners, but you know what kids are like. He knows how to speak now, he just doesn’t know how to speak properly. He finishes off his lunch and he just goes, “Ice cream! “I want ice cream now!” “What do you say?” “Ice cream!” “What do you say?” “Give me ice cream!” (STERNLY) “What do you say?” “Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!” This goes on for about 15 minutes before he goes, “Please!” And then you have to give him the ice cream because he said please. And it’s slightly confusing, and I think he thinks you have to shout about something for 15 minutes and then say please, and then you get it. And I need to nip that in the bud as a parent. Otherwise he’s going for his first date at 18, finishing up dinner, going, “Sex! “I want sex now! “Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex! “Give me sex! “Please!”

My other boy, he’s one. I had a little bit of an incident with him the other day when I was playing the Nintendo Wii – which I’m particularly good at, by the way. I would challenge any of you to Grand Slam Tennis. I’m amazing at it, phenomenal. I got it ’cause it’s for the calorie-burning. People said it’s quite good for losing weight. And the first few times I played it, you know, I had the headband on, you know, and my shorts on, I’m running around the living room. (EXCLAIMS) And you do burn calories, ’cause you’re running, playing tennis. In your living room. But after a while you realise, you’re just as good, if not better, lying on the sofa, eating a hamburger. If there’s an area of my body that doesn’t require a workout, it’s going to be the wrist area, if I’m brutally honest with you. This is a muscle I’ve been training quite religiously now for some years. It’s amazing how many sports do just use the wrists. Darts, and badminton, snooker – although I can’t play snooker any more. Ever since somebody told me it’s like tossing off a man behind you, sort of… Sort of put me off that particular sport. So I’m playing on the Wii, right. I’m playing Roger Federer. It’s the French Open, we’re on clay. Semifinal. We’re involved in this massive sort of baseline rally… And it is me, as well, ’cause you play as yourself, you can create your own face on the Wii, which is quite depressing ’cause you realise how unattractive you are when you go through the options. Face: “Wider, wider, paler, more pale… “Download more pale. Eyes, more slanty. “Darling, why are you married to me?” “I’ve no idea. You’re that ugly.” “Am I really?” So, it’s basically Roger Federer against some kind of obese Michael Chang at the French Open. (GRUNTS) I’m actually grunting through my shots. (GRUNTING) I do tend to grunt. I’m, in most sports, that unfit, even chess. (GRUNTING) So this rally’s going on, I’m sweating, I’m off the sofa now. I’m really getting into it. Federer plays this sublime drop shot. I charge across the living room, and smack it down the line for a winner. And then celebrate my break of serve. “Come on!” Unfortunately, my one-year-old, Oscar, had walked into the room at this very moment with love and adoration in his eyes, as only a boy has for his father. And up until this point I’ve been very good to him. He ran into the room, “Hello, Dada.” I then hurtled towards him with venom in my eyes, and smacked him in the face. The poor boy knows nothing of the Nintendo Wii. He thinks I’ve just completely turned on him. I’ve picked up some kind of white brick, rolled towards him, smacked him in the face and then celebrated. “Come on!” “Shit! Something’s happened to Oscar.” My other son saw it. “You just hit Ozzy in the face!” “Do not tell your mother.” “I’m telling Mummy.” “Do not tell your mother!” “I’m telling Mummy.” “Do not tell your mother!” (CHEEKILY) “I’m telling Mummy.” “Please!” “Okay, I won’t tell Mummy. I want ice cream.” “Whatever the fuck you want!” The poor kid, now every time I pick up the Wii, he shits himself. I’ve had to put it in the cupboard. My wife got it out the other day. “Shall we play on this?” (CRYING) “No, Dada, no!” We’re having trouble potty-training him. “Do you need a Wii?” (MIMICS CRYING)

I’m into all technology. I’m particularly enjoying Sky Plus at the moment. You can pause live TV. Pause it. And it’s a good pause, as well, the perfect… Everything you want from pause. Not like the old 1980s VHS pause – that was a very different story. People who weren’t even moving would start moving. “I wasn’t even moving in this scene.” People in paintings. “What the fuck is going on?” Then you can watch it back at any speed. Times two, times six, times 12, times 30. I watch the football in times six – it really whizzes along. Deal or No Deal on times 30 is much more entertaining. I watch all TV, even just to slag it off.

Dragons’ Den. How arrogant are those men? And woman. We know you’re rich, you don’t need to bring cash with you. They bring cash and put it on the table in front of them. “Look how loaded I am. I brought all this cash. “All my bank accounts are full, so I’ve had to bring additional cash with me.” “Have you got cash, Theo Paphitis?” “Oh, yes. I’m as rich as you are. “That’s why my table is filled with cash just like you. “What about you, other two dragons?” “Oh, yes, we’ve got lots of cash. “Tables full of cash. We’re totally loaded.” “All right, bring in the first poor person.” They come in trembling. (MIMICS TREMBLING VOICE) “Hello. Hello, dragons. “Please, please can I have some cash “for the ideas in my brain?” “I feel sick just looking at the poor person’s face. “You disgust me. Everything about your being, and your clothes are hideous. “For that reason, I’m out. “Are you out, Theo Paphitis?” “Oh, I will be out, but first I’m going to humiliate the poor person for 15 minutes, “and confuse her with mathematics, “before declaring that I am out, too.” I’d like to go on Dragons’ Den with a shotgun. I’d just like to go there, point at each of them individually, until one of them goes, “So, what’s your idea?” “Quite simple. Put that cash in this bag. Okay? “You get no equity.” I like some TV. I like watching people getting their exam results live a few weeks ago on GMTV. How exciting was that! “We’re going to go live now to a school “where someone’s opening their results live on TV.” (GASPING) “Darling, it’s going to be live on TV.” They come out of school with an envelope, trembling. We all edge closer to the TV, thinking exactly the same thing: Fail. (AUDIENCE LAUGHING) I’ll watch TV till the bitter end. Literally to like the early hours of the morning, till the signing zone, the deaf zone. That’s when you feel it’s probably time for bed. When there’s somebody in the corner… signing. You tend to think, “This isn’t really for me, maybe.” They almost look at you like, “You shouldn’t be… This isn’t for you, is it?” “Probably should have watched this in the day, when it was on the first time. “Why don’t you go and dream – in sound. You can do that, others can’t. “Have some respect for the sign zone.” I like it when there’s no dialogue in the programme and they watch TV with you. (INAUDIBLE) How can they even see it? Is that how they watch TV at home? Tough day at work? Stand directly next to the TV. I don’t know, by the way, if I am signing. I don’t speak sign language. If I want… This is more how I dance. It explains, when I used to go clubbing and all the deaf people would go, “How fucking dare you?” “What’s his problem? What a weirdo!” I watched The Blue Planet, the other day on the signing zone. This is the show where David Attenborough discovered creatures from the deep for the very first time on the show, and named them, ’cause they’d never been discovered before. So he was like, “Here we have the newly-discovered dypalotodicus.” And the signing guy was like… (INAUDIBLE) He resorted to impersonating the fish. It was hilarious. There was a fish swimming on the TV and he was just underneath going… I saw a Prime Minister’s Questions on it once. And it seemed like the signing guy had his own political agenda. Gordon Brown was going, “We must fight the credit crisis head on.” The guy in the corner was… So I’ll be here all week, which is quite exciting. But the thing that really annoys me, having these massive screens, is that I can’t see what you see. I can’t… I have no idea what I actually look like in the screen. It’s extremely frustrating. That’s the back of my head, incidentally. That’s what I look like from the back. It’s very… It’s very rare that you ever see what you look like from the back. You only ever see the back of your head at the end of a haircut. That’s the only time most people see the back of their head. And let’s be honest, we genuinely don’t give a shit. People care greatly what they look like from the front, from the back, not interested. Especially men. It’s a very awkward moment for a man at the end of a haircut, when we’re presented with the back of our head. And they look at you for approval. “Do you like the work I’ve done back here?” I think in the history of hairdressing, no man has ever reacted in this moment in any other way other than…”Yeah.” Do people go… “I love it, I’m leaving backwards! “I’m spending the rest of my life in reverse.” We don’t care. Men are just grateful they still have hair. We’re just grateful. We don’t care about the haircut. When you go for a haircut, they tell you, they ask you questions before even the hair wash. “So what are we doing today?” Some kind of consultation. We have nothing to say at this moment. “Haircut, that’s what I want. Haircut. “I want to leave here with less hair than when I entered in the building.” I like people who go bald, but a little bit stays in the middle. Like a little island of hair that breaks away from the mainland. And they keep the island. They must think, “Shall I keep the island? “I’ll keep the island. Maybe I can build a little walkway to the mainland.” I saw one bloke with this and it was in the shape of an arrow. He had a pretty decent arrow on the top of his head. And I wondered, when people ask him directions, does he tell them or just go…

Of course, it’s a very different story for women. Hairdressing, layers, and colours and tints. My wife has all these lotions and potions. The amount of creaming she does. Hours! She comes out of the shower. We’re still two or three hours from getting into the bed. Creaming, different creams… “Just creaming myself… “Be with you in about 45 minutes, honey. “Just creaming my entire body, sliding like a…” She said to me the other day, “Can you get me this cream? “It’s a miracle, must-have cream and it’s in all the shops, really expensive.” I said, “What’s it for? You’ve got all the creams in the world.” She said, “It’s for wrinkles.” “For what? You don’t have any wrinkles.” “I know, Michael, and I won’t. If I use this cream every single day “for the rest of my life, I’ll never have wrinkles. “That’s why it’s a miracle, must-have cream.” I’m like, “When are you even due to have wrinkles?” “I don’t know, Michael. 20 years or something.” “20 years? You want me to buy you something 20 years in advance “of you maybe getting it? This sounds like a rip-off to me. All right? “And I will take it back. I don’t like to be ripped off. “I’m more than happy to walk in there in 2029 and go, “‘Look, I purchased this cream 20 years ago, I’ve got the receipt, “‘which you’ll notice is in a better condition than the face of my wife. “‘I want a full refund.”‘

These cosmetics departments are the weirdest places I’ve ever seen. Big bright lights everywhere, and people working there, they seem to have every product they sell on their face. They can’t even move their own faces. “Can I interest you with anything from the Clarins range? “It’s all over my face. “Just pick what you want from the face.” They even asked me a question as I was walking through. “Excuse me, sir.” “What is it?” “Quick question about your face.” “Sorry? You have a question about my face?” “Yes, it’s looking very dry.” “I should have a wet face, should I? You don’t have a wet face. “Don’t see anybody else with a wet face.” She asked one of the most difficult questions I’ve ever been asked. She said, “What is your daily skin routine?” “Every day, I have skin. What exactly are you getting at?”

But I don’t want you to think I’m not a generous man. I did very recently buy her a very beautiful dress. We went out shopping especially for a dress. Shopping for clothing can be quite tense with her, with any woman, I think. Because she’s the same size, but in different shops, she’s different sizes, depending on how they interpret a different size. I really don’t know why this is. But she can range from a size eight, and then next door she’ll be a size 12. And if she’s an eight, we have a really lovely day together. If she’s a 12, we have to go home immediately. She’ll be like, “We’re fucking leaving!” “You look terrific, darling.” “I’m disgusting, that’s the problem!” “You sure you couldn’t slip into them, even with all the cream that you have on?” “Don’t be fucking ridic…” It gets to the point, she’s more interested in the size than actually what she’s trying on. She’ll be like… (GASPING) “Michael, it’s an eight. “It’s an eight and it fits me really, really well. “I mean, it’s an eight, it’s an eight. It just sort of slides on, and it’s an eight. “You don’t know what this means. I’ve been waiting for this moment. “Michael, it’s an eight.” “Darling, it’s a shoe. What are you getting so excited about?” So we’re looking around for this dress. A personal shopper, I’ve never met one of these before. The campiest man I’ve ever met in my entire life who literally jumped into our life. I’ve never seen anyone so camp that he jumped into our life. We were sort of looking around, browsing, he came running up, “Excuse me! “Hello, are you shopping here today?” I have a bit of an issue with very camp, gay men, and my issue is that I realise I’m quite camp myself. And I feel that if I behave normally, as a heterosexual, I’m sort of treading on their territory a bit. So I tend to go very much in the opposite direction. “Are you shopping here today?” “What does it fucking look like, mate? Waiting for a train?” Whereas of course, naturally I would’ve gone, “Yes, and you can help. Yay!” So he takes us into this room and starts showing us all these dresses. And my wife’s loving them. You see, this is very exciting. All these designer dresses. I knew it was too expensive. I knew there was problems here. When he gave me champagne as well. “You have a glass of champagne and just sit there, “and let us girls sort this out, okay?” So finally she finds this one, she loves it. The guy’s practically in tears. He goes, “So beautiful. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.” My wife’s like, “Can we afford it, Michael?” “No, we can’t afford it. I knew this was going to happen. “Nobody can afford this dress, it’s a joke. “People shouldn’t spend this kind of money on something you can’t drive. Okay? “It’s not natural.” But I could see how happy she was with it and I could see the disappointment in her eyes, and quite frankly, I sensed an opportunity. So I said, “Look, “I can see how beautiful you look in this, and I know that we’ve come here for a reason, “and I want to make you happy. “And you know how much I love you and it’s a special occasion.” I was thinking mainly about the blow job. “And I think that you deserve it.” You know what it’s like – after 10 years in a relationship, blow jobs work on a sort of reward structure. There’s no spontaneity left in a relationship. If I do a series of good things she will make an announcement: “Somebody might be getting a blow job later.” “Me? Is it me? Is it me?” I’ve even noticed over the years, I seem to be getting blow jobs on my birthday, which led to me on my last birthday actually saying the words, “Darling, will I be getting a birthday blow job today?” Then you enter into serious negotiating. “Yes, Michael, you will. Would you like a quick one now or a long one later? “I’ve got a lot to do in the kitchen.” “Ah, how romantic. Let me consider those options. “I’m gonna go for a quick one now in case one of us dies at lunch. How about that?” So I said to her, “Come on, let’s just get this dress before I change my mind. “Let’s get it and go.” And she says, “I need a clutch.” “You need a what?” “I need a clutch!” “Sorry, there’s something wrong with the car? You’re telling me this now?” “No, Michael, it’s called a clutch bag. “It goes with the dress, it’s like an outfit. “Have you not seen them? Do you not know anything about fashion?” I said, “No, I don’t. What is it?” “It’s a little bag, and it’s for your essentials. Lipstick, keys, phone, that kind of thing. “You just clutch it like that, and it matches the dress.” “Oh, all right. How much is that?” 500 pounds! “500 pounds? For a little bag? “For your lipstick, and your keys and your phone?” I said, “For 500 pounds, I could hire a human being to walk alongside you “holding your lipstick and your keys and your phone.”

It’s fun watching her try things on, though – anybody trying things on. People behave very oddly when they try things on, don’t they? When they put dresses on, and trousers… You walk in a way you’ll never actually walk once you purchase the trousers. She walks into the changing room like a normal human being holding the trousers. Then she comes out, doing this really… “What do you think? What do you think of these trousers? “I think they’re quite nice. Mmm.” “What are you doing?” “I’m seeing if they fit.” “You don’t need to be doing that in trousers.” Men do the same thing when they put a suit on. There’s this whole suit thing, that you go… “What do you think of this suit? I think it’s pretty good.” No one’s ever done this when they own the suit. But when they’re trying it on, there’s a huge preparation for acting like a complete freak in a suit. You wouldn’t go to a business meeting going, “Hello, my name’s lan. “Just got a new suit and trousers.” The main one is with shoes. When you try shoes on, you will go for a walk in the shoe shop, but it’s not a walk you’ll ever do anywhere else outside of the shoe shop. It’s a shoe-shop walk. You walk around in this sort of… “I quite like these shoes. “I don’t think they’ll rub. I’m just gonna bang it for a bit. “I think they’re quite comfortable. “It’ll be perfect for my Elvis impersonation. “All right then, let me just push them with my thumb for no reason at all.” “The toe is in the toe section. “That’s ideal. “All the other toes are there. “If the toe was at the back, I wouldn’t buy them. That’d be bizarre. “The sides are filled with the sides of my feet. “Perfect. Everything I wanted happened when I went down there. “And I think I might definitely get these.” They even have little mirrors where you can put your shoe under and look at the shoe from a slightly different angle. “Ah, look, there’s the shoe from that angle. “The cat will love them.” That’s probably what the cat will see. They even give you one shoe. These lazy people who work in shoe shops, they bring out the shoes, they lace up one and hand you the one. And do we say, “Excuse me, people in life wear two shoes. “You’re wearing two shoes now!” “Oh, no, we don’t. We take the one shoe, we go for a walk in that.” “This is good, I love this shoe. Give me two of these.” Why would you walk around the shoe shop in one shoe? There’s no moment in your life that we would ever be recreating this moment. Wallet, keys, phone, I’m late. One shoe, I’ve got to go to a meeting. It’s not just clothes that you try. Everything. You buy a sofa, you start bouncing on it and rubbing the fabric. Nobody sits like this at home. People don’t come round to your house. “Do take a seat.” I tried a bed, and you lie on the bed. Not how you’d normally sleep, it’s like this… Next to my wife, as well. “I like this bed. Do you like the bed?” “Oh, I love it. It’s a really good bed.” “Will we be using it as a coffin?” “Evidently we will, darling.” I bought a Hoover from Comet. They love electricals. Everything they sell is electric. Which means that you have to plug it in. But nothing in the shop is plugged in. And the whole shop is filled with people trying things out, but not for their primary function. They’re just looking at fridges by opening them and closing them. No one asks whether it actually makes food colder? “Look at this one, it opens like that and closes. “I like it, and it’s silver. “Look at this oven, it opens, it’s got trays and dials! “I love trays and dials.” “Does it heat food?” “I don’t give a shit. “It’s got dials and trays.” I was trying a Hoover and I felt the need to hoover around the shop a bit. Just to feel the weight of the Hoover. It wasn’t plugged in. I just took it for a little spin. And as I was hoovering down the aisle, somebody else was trying their Hoover and hoovered past me. “Hello. Good Hoover. I used to have that model.” ‘Cause there’s two very distinctive styles of hoovering. Either you walk with your Hoover, like this… (IMITATES VACUUM CLEANER WHIRRING) Then you get to the end and you hoover around and you follow in behind. (IMITATES VACUUM CLEANER WHIRRING) Or you stand your ground and hoover out. Then you just pick another spot at random. Hoover out again. (IMITATES VACUUM CLEANER WHIRRING) If you can’t get into a nook, the hose will come out. It’s exciting when you think “We’ll utilise the hose now.” You stand up and take the hose out… (IMITATES VACUUM CLEANER WHIRRING) Before you hoover with the hose, for some reason you feel the excitement building. You have to hoover yourself. I don’t really know why. You know what it’ll feel like. You know that it’s a suction device. You just feel the need to confirm it. (IMITATES VACUUM CLEANER WHIRRING) It’s just one of those signs that life is quite boring when you decide to hoover yourself. “You looking for a job today?” “Hoovering my own face earlier.” There are little moments in life when you can have fun. I’m having a lot of fun in petrol stations at the moment. They sell these wind-up torches and I buy one in every petrol station just so I can make this quite childish joke. I put it on the counter and go, “Is this some kind of a wind-up?” (INAUDIBLE) Perks me up on a long journey. I’ll tell you what I also like doing, is saying four numbers when I do chip-and-pin. They’re not my numbers, but it freaks the shit out of people. Because most people are so secretive – they hood, they create a hand hood. I’m hand-hooding. I just go “Seven, four, two, one. I think those are them.” “The bloke’s insane!” People just wanna pay as quick as they can at the petrol station. Get in and out. Don’t waste any time. The race is on. Even while you’re still putting petrol in the car, you’ve clocked other people. “Pump two. Pump seven. “Pump three. She’s no threat at all. “These are my main competitors.” Sometimes I put less petrol in the car just ’cause somebody else has finished. “No, you fucking don’t. I can do that.” And then you know you’re racing each other. What you want to do ideally is go, “Come on!” But you can’t. You just slowly speed your pace up a bit. (GRUNTING) There’ll be someone in the shop looking at confectionary. “No time for confectionary – there’s a race and I will win it!” And then, of course, you don’t look at your pump number. That’s tradition, I think, in this country. No one’s ever put petrol in and looked at the pump number. One by one you have to queue up and go, “Pump number… “Is that three or four? I don’t know.” I’ve been eating too much at petrol stations, let’s be honest, ’cause I’ve been on the road. I’m trying to lose weight. Not only am I trying to lose weight, ladies and gentlemen, but I had that moment – that moment when people who need to lose weight go on a diet. They have this one moment and think, “That’s it. Now I will lose the weight.” I had that moment and I still didn’t diet. That moment was when I was on a Flybe flight. Flybe is one of those tiny planes that you can’t even believe is your plane. When you’re in the airport and you’re looking out the window… “That can’t be our plane? Is that a plane?” “We’re gonna have to get on that thing? That’s the size of a car! “I can’t get on that thing.” I’m not happy with any plane where the captain turns around and goes, “Are you ready?” No, thank you. No, thank you. So I’m sitting there and this stewardess comes over, she says, “Excuse me, sir, can I just pop you over there in seat 6A?” I’m like, “Why?” “It’s probably better if you don’t ask questions “and just move your stuff over.” “What do you mean, don’t ask questions? This is my seat. I’ve got all my stuff here. “I’ll sit here, thank you very much.” “I’m sorry, sir, that’s the orders of the captain. “Let me just move you over to 6A.” “But why? I’m very comfortable here. You’re gonna have to tell me why.” “It’s probably better if you don’t.” It was to balance the weight of the aircraft. How depressing is your life when they’re going, “Can I just get everyone to sit on this side and lean towards the window? “And Fatty, over there on your own, okay?” That didn’t do it. I consider losing weight before the summer because there’s always a big sort of excitement to slim down for summer. All my wife’s magazines: “Slim down for summer.” “Easy steps to that bikini body.” “Why take the lift when you can take the stairs?” Huh! Good advice. What I want to know is why do they have these magazine articles every single spring? We automatically put weight on over the winter. It’s not like in the autumn the magazine goes, “Chub up for Crimbo.” “Why take the stairs when you can lie in the lift eating chocky? Yay!” The gym is the big thing. That’s what everyone says, “Go to the gym.” I’ve tried. I’ve been to the gym and it’s a horror story. The changing rooms, I just can’t cope with it. I don’t understand men’s philosophies towards nakedness. Okay? Men in this very room behave like this and I don’t understand you. If I have to be naked in public, I’ll be naked for a short amount of time as is humanly possible, okay? I will get my fresh, new pants, line them up. Get the perfect distance away. Take off old pants, put new pants on! (AUDIENCE LAUGHING) I’m back in pants. Sometimes I go too quickly. “I’m in two pants. I don’t give a shit. “I’d rather have two pants than no pants.” But other men have completely the opposite philosophy of this. They’ll come out of the shower, sort of air-drying… Towel-drying their arses! I have never towel-dried my arse in my entire life. I don’t need to. I don’t leak water from my arse. But other men, they spend hours working away at the arse. Go through dozens of fresh towels. But they don’t do it in the corner against the wall. They’re right out there in the open, looking at you, “Yes, I’m towel-drying my arse now.” And I see men put their pants on last. Literally last. They come out of the shower, you know, they put the… Shirt goes on… And everything’s flapping around down there. Tie goes on, look who’s still in town. Jacket. Coat, scarf. Top hat. Yeah, baby. Shoes and socks. How’s that even fucking possible? What’re you gonna do? Sew your trousers on now? People dropping keys. I saw one guy blow-drying his pubic hair in the hand dryer. That should be illegal. Standing there talking about house prices. “Do you think we’ve reached the bottom?” I see people running to each other. If I saw somebody I knew in the gym changing room, I’d hide in the locker. This guy was like, “Mark?” “Fucking hell! Richard! Is that you?” “I didn’t know you were a member of this gym.” “Yeah, I just moved into the area recently. What’s it like here?” You literally don’t know where to look. (EXCLAIMING) I sat down once to do my shoelaces. I will never again go to this height in that environment again. There were lockers above me. Somebody’s looking for their locker. So they’re edging their way over. I’m sitting here doing my laces up… Fuck! The final straw is that this bloke came over to me, “Excuse me, mate, have you got the time?” “Time to put your fucking pants on, okay?” So I was in Starbucks. There was a bloke in front of me. He said, “Can I get a tall, skinny, black Americano?” I said, “Are you ordering a president?” I was watching Sky Sports News. There was a football manager called Alan Knill. K-N-l-L-L. What a great name if you’re involved in football. Knill. If he has a son and doesn’t call him “Juan”, he’s missed a major opportunity for comedy. (LAUGHS) “This is my eldest, Juan Knill.” I actually started this whole process in Taunton in the West Country… (AUDIENCE EXCLAIMS) Where two people have joined us tonight. In the West Country they speak like this. They go… (IN WEST-COUNTRY ACCENT) “All right. You all right? “Welcome to Somerset. You all right?” Quite bizarrely, in East Anglia, which is the opposite side of the country… (AUDIENCE CHEERING) Where several people have joined us tonight. They speak like this… (IN VERY SIMILAR ACCENT) “Hello! You all right? Welcome to Norwich.” How on earth did this happen? Opposite sides of the country. The country is divided into… (CHANGES PITCH) “All right!” (CHANGES PITCH) “Hello!” (CHANGES PITCH) “All right!” How did it happen? Did a whole lot of farmers just arrive and go, “Right, let’s split up. “You guys go that way, we’ll wait here.” “All right.” “Hello.” “Keep walking.” “All right.” In the interval in my gig there, this woman came in and said, “Hello, Michael, my name is Margaret. “I’m the duty manager here at the theatre. “This is my assistant, Jenny. Say hello, Jenny.” “Hello. My name’s Jenny.” Jenny was quite something to behold. She had eyes pointing in different directions. Which is awkward, ’cause you don’t know whether to ignore it or pick one and get in front of it. Margaret said, “Michael, did you get your sandwich? “I made you your sandwich myself with my assistant, Jenny, “and I was wondering whether you enjoyed your sandwich.” Now, if truth be told, it was a terrible sandwich. But of course, out of politeness I said, “Thank you much, Margaret, for my sandwich.” But this sandwich was an abomination, okay? This sandwich consisted of tomato and lettuce and no further ingredients. There was nothing else in this sandwich. I couldn’t even believe it was a sandwich. A sandwich needs a focal ingredient, a meat or a cheese, then you accessorise around it. This was an accessory sandwich. A humiliation of a sandwich. And I’ve been thinking, subsequently, who in their right mind would present this and even call it a sandwich? And the only conclusion I came to is that she was trying to make me a BLT, but got confused ’cause of the “B” in bread. It’s the only real thought I’ve had. She was in the kitchen with Jenny, going, “Right, we’re going to go for a classic here today, the BLT. “We’re gonna need ‘B’ for bread, pass that. ‘L’, that’ll be the lettuce, “and ‘T’ will have to be the tomato. That’s that done.” “Margaret!” “What is it, Jenny? You shouldn’t be interrupting me “you should be listening and learning.” “Isn’t there supposed to be bacon in a BLT?” “I have heard the rumours. However, that would create the BBLT. “I’ve already had to lose the butter to get to this point as it is, Jenny. “Next up, G and T, this one’s easy. Glass and tonic. That’s that done. “You’re getting these there in one day.” My wife has a gin and tonic of an evening. I’ll just take some wine. We have a drinks cabinet. Many people will have drinks cabinets in their home. You like to show people, “This is all our drinks.” You look at it on your own and you’re like, “I hope people come round “and see all the drinks I’ve collected through my life.” And there are drinks in there that you know you will never ever drink until you die. But you just like to have them there, ’cause it looks a bit like a bar. Let’s be honest. From this moment till the day I die, I will never utter the words, “I think I’ll have a glass of Cinzano.” But I have it. It’s there if I need it.

Wine’s a weird one because people… Everyone pretends to be experts in wine. We’ve all got this sort of… We all just take part in this weird lie, that we’re all connoisseurs in wine. A lot of people drink and like wine, but let’s be honest, at least 90% of us are not experts in the field of wine. When we go out to restaurants, we all play this sort of bullshit production that we know about wine. Nobody at the table knows anything about wine. The waiter himself, he knows nothing about wine. We know red colour and white colour. That’s all you know. But you all pretend you know a great deal more. “Would you like to see the wine list?” He might as well be saying, “Would you like the book of gibberish?” “Yes, I would.” Let me pretend I’m looking at that. Ignore all the words and focus entirely on the prices. “Let’s see that.” “How about this one?” You just point at it. You don’t even have the confidence to say it. “I want this one.” “Ah, a fine choice. “I have no idea if that’s a fine choice. I know fuck-all about wine myself.” It’s all part of the bullshit production. Then they come and show you the bottle. You have to stop your conversation to stare at a bottle of wine. But you go along with it because it’s all part of it. It’s the only part of the meal you need to witness that it’s coming from the right source. It’s not like you order a hamburger and they come up with a photo of a cow. “This is a cow. This is the kind of thing. Are you happy with this?” “Yes, that’s exactly the kind of thing I meant when I ordered a hamburger.” Then they open it in front of you. You have to witness the opening of the wine. Complete nonsense. It’s not like you have the steak and they come out and go, “I’m just flipping those over now, all right, just that part of it.” So you can see what’s going on. Then comes the big, the key part. The pouring of the wine. Who will try the wine? Who will take the lead role in this bullshit production? Nobody wants to do it. (MUMBLES) “You do it. I don’t want to do it.” Normally someone will give you up. “You do it.” “Okay, okay. I will try the wine.” It’s almost as if time stands still. Pour a little bit, everyone’s staring at you. The waiter is waiting for your verdict. “Yes.” (AUDIENCE LAUGHING) “That’s wine. “That is wine. I’ve had wine before. This is exactly what it tastes like. “It looks like Ribena, but I confirm it isn’t Ribena, it’s wine. “Everyone should have some of this.” I always thought you were tasting it to see if you liked it. I thought it was like a taste test. Apparently you’re tasting it to see if it’s corked, which means it’s off. They’re asking you to determine whether it’s off, and if it’s off, they’ll bring you another bottle. I’m paying for it, why don’t you ascertain in your own time whether it’s off or not, and if it is, don’t serve it to me. It’s not like you ordered a coffee and they come up with the milk, going, (SNIFFS) “It smells funny. Will you try it for me?” (SPLUTTERS) Cheesy! But you go along with it, ’cause it’s restaurant.

You just go along with things in restaurants, ’cause you think it’s the way you have to behave in restaurants. You sit in this most expensive restaurant… “Would you like some bread for the table? Some water for the table?” The table’s having a better night than I am at this rate. And who actually wants bread and water before your meal? I could get this in an orphanage. I’m paying a lot of money to be here. But you go along with it, ’cause you’re in a restaurant. You order your main course. “Would you like some side orders?” No, just give me food on a plate! I don’t need satellites of food surrounding my food. Is it to make you feel like you’re eating less? “Yes, I would like some side orders. “In fact, I’d like some potato dauphinoise behind me. “Put them behind me. “I want carrots in a drawer under the table. “Cream of spinach behind the cistern in the loo. No one will ever know.” But you go along with it ’cause you’re in a restaurant. Coffee as well.

At the end of a meal, even at dinner. 11:30 at night, you’re about to go to bed. Can I get anyone a coffee? If my wife said to me at home, at 11:30 at night, after dinner, “Do you want a coffee?” I’d go, “Have you lost your fucking mind? “Why would I want a coffee? “You’re talking about the drink that we get ourselves out of bed in the morning with? “The high-caffeine drink to get you going in the day? “You want to have that now before bed? “Is this some kind of an experiment, you nutter?” In a restaurant, “Yes, I think I’ll have a latte. “What would you like?” “An espresso for me. Just an espresso.” 2:00 in the morning. “Why the fuck did I order that? “I can’t sleep. Can you sleep?” “Of course I can’t sleep. I had a fucking espresso and coffee cake.” “I might just go to work now and wait there.” “But it’s Friday!” “I don’t care!” You go along with it ’cause you’re in a restaurant.

But it doesn’t matter what you order, ladies and gentlemen, the mainstay of any meal will be salt and pepper. Salt and pepper are so phenomenally successful in the herb and spice arena. They arrogantly sit on the table, knowing that whatever you want to prepare you will require one of us. Either myself, or my dear friend Pep. “Isn’t that right?” “Right you are, Salty.” “You’ve been keeping busy?” “Ah, breakfast this morning, I was all over that.” But there are other herbs and spices. Oregano, thyme, rosemary, cumin, paprika. They’re all lined up in the cupboard, waiting. Sometimes the cupboard door opens, they see salt and pepper on the table. “Look at them, the bastards. “What’ve they got? What’ve they got that we don’t have? “I just don’t get it.” “I don’t get it either.” “Neither do I.” “I can’t even see them from here. What do they look like?” “You ever been out of the cupboard, Cumin?” “Once, I think, for Bolognaise.” “They said it was an experiment. “That was in 1992. I don’t think it worked. “But I remain hopeful.” “What about you, Sage? You ever been out of the cupboard?” “I actually used to live with them at their old house. “And then they moved me here and put me back in this cupboard. No.” “What about you, Paprika?” (HUNGARIAN ACCENT) “I fell out once. “They just put me back in the wrong way round. “Seven years I was like this. “Every day I pray. I pray for it to be goulash day. “But it is never goulash day. “I still got the plastic on my head. Why the fuck did they buy me? “I don’t understand it.” (AUDIENCE CHEERING) “What about you? Who are you on the end?” (IN CHINESE ACCENT) “My name is Five-spice.” “Have you ever been out of the cupboard, Five-spice?” “I am not one spice. “I am five-spice. “I am five times as good as all of you!” “Yes, but have you ever been out of the cupboard?” “I have been used in recipes “for thousands of years.” “But have you ever been out of this cupboard?” “No.” “Excuse me. Sorry. I’m sorry to interrupt all this nonsense. “Tired of listening to all your whining, ’cause the fact is I have been in this cupboard “for longer than all of you put together.” “Sorry, who are you?” “John West Tuna. Nice to meet you.” (AUDIENCE LAUGHING) “This is my wife, Tinned Salmon.”

I presume you would have checked your mobile phones. Probably put them on silent. Don’t bother putting them off, ’cause then you can see everything that you’ve missed. All the missed calls. “Look how popular I am. “Look at the little envelopes. Lot of activity. “Lot of activity.” Sometimes you turn your phone off and you turn it on after a significant period of time and there’s no messages, you can’t believe it. “Nobody?” One of the great things about your phone is that if you lose your phone, you can phone your phone to find your phone. It’s the only thing you can do that with. You get a second chance. And this lovely moment when you realise, “Where’s my phone? (GASPS) “I will phone my phone.” If you lose your keys, you’ve lost your keys. You can’t just phone your keys. “Hello? Is that my keys? “Where the fuck are you? “We’ve left you. The whole bunch thinks you’re a dick, if I’m honest with you. “Except for the Chubb, he likes you. “He’s under the mat. The rest of us you’ll never find.” But with your phone, you can lose your phone and you… I normally use my wife’s phone to phone my phone. Basically, our phone bills are mainly made up of us phoning each other’s phones. You dial the number. It’s exciting when you hear it ringing. You know you’ll find your phone. “Ah! It’s here. I found it.” The problem is every time this happens you get your phone, you go, “Ooh, one missed call. “It was you, darling. When did you phone me? “Did I miss a call from you earlier? “Oh, no. No, false alarm. It was me phoning me. I phoned myself. “Sorry. Awkward.” If it goes straight to the machine, I’ll leave myself a message. “Where are you?” I did that once and then I found my phone. I didn’t recognise my own voice and it freaked me out for weeks. “You have one new message.” “Where are you?” “Who is that? “Darling, listen, listen, listen to this message.” “Where are you?” “Who have you pissed off? “Be honest with me, Michael, who have you pissed off?” I actually hosted a mobile-phone awards quite recently. All the networks were there. And I came out at the beginning and I said, “Thank you for that lovely reception. “Apart from you, T-Mobile.” They didn’t find it that funny. (LAUGHS) I got done for talking on my phone in the car. I’m really sorry, I know it’s a bad thing. It’s very annoying. I know people do it. I’ve seen you do it. You’re chatting on the phone in the car and then if you see the police officer, you don’t have time to turn it off. So you just drop it and keep your hand like that. Then you have this redundant hand you have to find a use for. Whoever you’re talking to is now chatting by your feet. (GIBBERISH) I’ll be with you in a moment. Doesn’t it wind you up when you see people talking on their phone in the car? It really winds me up. I hate it when you’re driving behind somebody. You know, they’re swerving. Or the lights go green and they don’t react. And you conclude there’s an idiot in that car. You start discussing it with other people in your car. “Have you seen the idiot?” “Ugh! Complete idiot!” And then you think, “Let’s go, let’s go past the idiot. “Let’s see what the idiot looks like. “It’s very rare in life you can see a genuine idiot human.” And you wait for your first opportunity to overtake the idiot. And you can feel your neck muscles pulling. “Idiot!” A whole car full of people in unison. Even babies in their car seats. “Idiot.” I got a mobile-phone bill for £932. Right. It wasn’t my… It wasn’t my network. It was obviously a mistake. It was itemised. Every single phone call was to Nigeria. So I knew something was up. I phoned them up and I said, “Look, this isn’t me. There’s been some kind of issue.” “All these phone calls are to Nigeria. It’s for 900 quid.” She said, “Are you absolutely certain you didn’t make these calls, sir?” I said, “Yes, I’m quite convinced I didn’t decide to get to know Nigeria “over a two-day period. I would have remembered that.” She said, “What I think has happened, sir, is that a Nigerian “has made these phone calls.” “Ah, Columbo, I got straight through to you. “How convenient.” “So what I think’s happened – and this has happened before – “is a Nigerian man or woman has impersonated you.” She used the word “impersonated”. This doesn’t say a whole lot for my career, that a Nigerian woman has walked into the Carphone Warehouse… (IN NIGERIAN ACCENT) My name is comedian joker Michael McIntyre. “What is it, my manjoe?” “I want a phone from you.” “You look very different on the TV, sir.” (LAUGHING) “In the flesh you’re more feminine and Nigerian.” That was scary post. Scary post is getting that bill. I get a lot of previous-owner post. That’s just boring, isn’t it? You just bin it. “Previous owner? Who are you? “You don’t live here any more. I’ll just bin your post.” Unless it’s handwritten. (MUMBLES) (CHUCKLES) The guy who used to live in my house is called Michael Cunningham and he got a lot of Christmas cards. And I put them up as my own. “Dear Michael, merry Christmas!” Who’s gonna know? You know the Bank of Scotland? It’s a bank, it’s from Scotland. You must have seen it, it’s… They named it themselves, the Bank of Scotland. They also have it in England, where they’ve called it the Bank of Scotland. What do you know! They also have it in Wales. It’s called the Bank of Scotland. In Ireland, it’s called it the Bank of Scotland, in brackets, “Ireland”. They felt the need to add additional information for Irish people. I heard in England, when you see the Bank of Scotland you still feel confident of your location. They were warned that Irish people would be staggering home from the pub at night going, “Oh, she fancies me, the blonde one, Siobhan. There’s no two ways about it. “Oh, look, it’s the Bank of… Shit! We’ve taken a wrong turn. “How in God’s name did we get to Scotland? “We left the pub five minutes ago. “I must have swam, but I’m not wet. I have no recollection. “I’m not even a strong swimmer. This is insanity.” They’ve got their language in Ireland. I didn’t even know about it until I was recently there. ‘Cause I know they’ve got their own language in Wales. It’s called Welsh. They have it on the roads. It says, “Slow”, and then the Welsh for slow which is… Araf! Slow. Araf! Did dogs write some of the language? Is this what’s happening? Must be quite confusing for Welsh dog walkers. “Come on then. Let’s go.” “Araf!” “I’ll pick the fucking pace, all right!” “Let’s just wait here for a minute.” “Araf!” “We’re not even bloody moving! How lazy are you!” The first time I drove into Wales, I’d never seen this before, and ’cause I was driving over it I didn’t really read it properly. I thought it said “Slow, Arab.” I thought, “What?” “Given the delicate global political situation “is this the best way to handle the terror threat?” I thought there’d been a meeting at the Welsh Assembly. Like, “Next on the agenda is Al-Qaeda. “Now, it’s only a matter of time before they strike us in the valleys. “Any ideas how to combat the threat?” “I got one. “Let’s slow them down on the roads. Keep an eye on the bastards.” “Slow, Arab, put your hands where I can fucking see them, all right?” So I’m in Ireland, right, I’m trying to go to the loo, and it’s written up men and women, but it’s in Irish. It says mna, M-N-A, and fir, F-l-R. And I had to determine quickly, ’cause I was desperate, whether I was a mna or a fir. And I went for mna because all the letters of “man” are there. Okay? I assumed this is where I was supposed to be. So I burst into the mna, and in hindsight I should’ve looked for the urinals, ’cause they’re unique to the men’s room. But if I’m honest with you, I never look for urinals. Far too tense, big lines of horse-pissing men. (HISSING) Sometimes standing unfeasible distances, looping. Can’t be dealing with that. There’ll be like one Ionesome urinal and you have to take your place, and your brain goes, “Time to pee”, and your body goes, “I don’t want to pee any more.” “What? You told me you needed to pee.” “I changed my mind.” Then you have to pretend to pee. It’s terribly awkward. Then the men start to notice, “This bloke isn’t even pissing. “I recognise him from the gym. It’s two-pants. He’s a freak.” “I’m not a freak. I’d rather have two pants than no pants.” “Doesn’t even towel-dry his arse.” I just go to the cubicle where I can shut the door and I can lock it and I can do things at my own leisure. Unfortunately, I then heard women coming in, chatting. “Oh, you’re having a good night. It’s heavin’ out there.” And I’m in the loo thinking, (GASPS) “I’m a fir. “I’m not a mna, I’m a fir.” I thought “I’ll wait for them to disperse, then I will run to freedom.” Unfortunately, they were really chatting away. You know what girls are like. “Oh, you’re having a good night? “Who’s that little fellow following you around? He’s very cute.” “Oh, he’s just some bloke carrying my lipstick and my keys and my purse. “It was my husband’s idea.” Then I realised I was in the only cubicle. They were basically queuing for the cubicle that I was in. There was a line of genuine mnas waiting for a cubicle where a fir dwelled, masquerading as a mna. At last there was a knock on the door and this girl went, “Are you all right in there, darling?” And without even hesitating, I went, (IN FEMALE VOICE) “I’ll be out in a minute.” Why did I do that? Why did I think this will be a good idea, to pretend to be a woman? I just sat there going, “Why did I do that?” After a while I had to try and come clean from behind the door, but I had to keep the voice initially. (IN FEMALE VOICE) “Girls, I’m really sorry, but I’m a man.” “You’re a man? Have you just discovered this?” (IN OWN VOICE) No, this isn’t my actual voice. I heard one say, “Do you believe that?” “I’ll believe anything. Just had a phone call from my friend, Tommy, “he says he’s in Scotland, but he left the pub five fucking minutes ago.” What a surreal night. I went on Ryanair. I’ve actually never been on Ryanair before this. I’ve only heard people take a piss out of it. Oh, my God! It doesn’t make any sense, this airline. It’s £1 to use the loo and 99p to get to Rome. Where is the logic in this? There are people sitting on the plane going, “Do I need a piss or an Italian adventure? I can’t decide.” And they keep making it more and more shit, but people keep going on it. They’re making you take your bags now to the plane yourself. They’re talking about having standing-up flights. Is that even legal, to stand on a plane? On normal planes they don’t let you take off if your seat isn’t in the upright position. “Here to here. Not here. We can’t take off now. “Here. We can go. Not now. “Are you crazy? Get a plane airborne with your seat here?” “Here, now, let’s go. “Your armrest needs to be here. Window, here.” (MUMBLING) Can they really not get the plane in the sky? Is the captain there going, “I can’t. Nothing seems to be working. “Have you checked all the seats are in the upright position?” “This one’s fine. This one’s fine. You, get forward!” “Sorry!” On Ryanair, “Hold the nearest person, it’s time to go!” (SCREAMING) I thought they must be going to land the plane. They’re just going to go near the earth now. People are going to have to… (GRUNTING) “Here come the bags!” I managed to get away in the summer. That’s what people want, isn’t it, sun? We obsess. We’re happiest in the winter when we don’t expect the sun, so we can just relax. In the summer we spend the whole time, “I’ve heard there’s sun coming on Thursday. “Have you seen it?” “I did, I saw it. Thursday.” “It’s not gonna stay long. You better get out there. “Get your face in it.” People are very into getting their face in it. “What are you doing inside with your face… Your face is not in it. “Get that face in that.” “You’ve caught the sun on your face.” “Have I? Have I, really?” “Yes, you’ve really caught the sun on your face. “You must’ve got your face in it.” “I did get my face in it. “It’s quite hot when your face is in it. It’s quite hot when your face is in it.” Men really love the sun for barbecue. “Sunny day. “Time for cooking outside. “Woman, I am tired of your indoor shit. “You are relegated to salad. Time to cook outside now.” There’s never enough sun, so you have to go away to the sun. I booked a week in Cyprus, very excited. People keep saying, “Are you gonna get some sun?” “Yeah, I booked a holiday. “Where you going?” “Cyprus.” “Oh, it’ll be nice and sunny.” “I’ll be so nice to get the sun.” “Yeah, I can’t wait to get the sun. “Just can’t wait to get the sun. Won’t it be so nice to have sun?” Kept looking at the five-day forecast on the BBC – “Sun, sun, sun, sun, sun.” “Look, darling. Look at all the sun.” We’re on the plane, nice and sunny. Sunny conditions. “Oh, we’re gonna get to the sun.” Within 10 minutes of arriving in Cyprus, I said the words, “We need to find a shady bit. There’s a nice shady bit over here. “This is nice and shady.” Every time I went into my hotel room, “Ah, it’s nice and cool in here. So nice and cool in here.” You spend the whole time protecting yourself from the sun – until the last day. This is the day when you might not see the sun for maybe a whole year. “What time is our flight, darling? 4:00? We have to leave at what, 1:00? “I’m just gonna get some last-minute sun.” “Do you want the cream?” “No cream. “Burn me, God! Burn my face off!” You even find yourself sunbathing on the steps up the airplane. (EXCLAIMS) Get some sun! People have all sorts of different holidays. Some girls go on 18-30s holidays. They have unprotected sex and they have a child. Ten years later, the child says, “Mum, I want to know about my dad.” She says, “The only thing I know about your father is that he’s now between 28 and 40.” That joke has two waves of laughter depending on your level of mathematics. It’s quite an odd response. There’s an initial laugh, then a pause and people going, “Hmm, hmm… It works.” (LAUGHS) I’ll tell you my big news. My big news is that I’ve moved. I’ve moved. I’ve moved very locally to here. It’s always exciting moving. I got a mortgage for the first time. I filled it out. They said, “Make sure you “don’t leave anything blank in the application ’cause it could delay it.” And it said, “Occupation”, so I put “Comedian.” Then it said, “Position”. I went for “Stand-up”. I thought that was the closest. I got it from the Scottish Widows. I don’t really understand Scottish Widows. I understand banks. But who are they? Who’s this collection of widowed Scottish women? Who’s that one in the advert, just runs around, “Oh, my husband’s gone. “And he was fucking loaded! Call me, call me.” I always thought it was slightly inaccurate. They should have a sort of Glaswegian pensioner smoking a cigarette, “Fucking glad he’s dead. He was a right bastard.” It’s exciting moving, getting all your stuff. And where to move? Always London for me. And it is safe for me to say this now, ’cause we’re in London. I belong to London. Everyone lives here ’cause, you know, it’s a good place to live. A lot of people keep going flirting with the country. “Oh, I love it in the country. “Oh, I can’t wait to get out of London. You know, it’s just amazing. “You know, you can just see for miles. Just for miles and miles. “You can see for miles and it’s so quiet, you can’t hear anything.” That’s ’cause nobody wants to live there. I live in a place filled with people. I can’t hear a thing. “I can see for miles and everyone says hello to you.” “That’s ’cause there’s three people living in your village.” “In London everyone’s so rude. No one says hello to you.” “That’s ’cause it’s physically impossible. “You can’t get on the tube and go, ‘Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello.”‘ A clue as to how shit it is in the country is how quickly people tell you they can get back to London. “I’m just so happy here. I can be in London in 42 minutes. “42 minutes I can be in London. The other day I did it in 39 minutes!” I wake up in the morning, “I’m in London! Zero minutes.” The most important thing when I was moving was to get internet and TV. That’s right. These are the most important things in my life. Furniture, I can wait. I can’t not have the internet and proper TV on day one of the move. Google is the starting point to everything. Google. Although I do find Google quite patronising when it goes, “Did you mean…” “I know what I meant, Google.” And I don’t think Google should help you if you don’t know what you mean. Why should Google be of assistance? Google’s just called you an idiot. You have no idea what you mean. “Here a list of schools in your area. “Go to them, attend them, find out what you fucking mean and then come back to me.” My computer broke, actually, quite recently. I took it to the computer-fixing shop. There was a queue of people. There was a person in front of me, a person behind me. You’ve probably seen queues, they’re much like this. The person in front of me says, “Excuse me, mate, I’m looking for a lead “that goes from my laptop to the TV. I think it’s a male to male lead?” And the bloke behind me just went, “Gay.” He heard the words “male to male” and his brain just went, “That’s gay. That lead is gay.” Laptop to TV? That’s not natural. It’s in the Bible. Sky TV, essential. Phoned them up, “I need it on day one. What time you coming around?” “We can’t specify a time, sir. “We can only specify between 8:00 and 12:00 in the morning “and 12:00 and 5:00 in the afternoon.” “I can’t wait all day for you. I’ve got a lot going on, I’m moving. “Can you be more specific?” “I’m sorry, sir, we can’t specify a time. “We can only specify between 8:00 and 12:00 in the morning “and 12:00 and 5:00 in the afternoon.” I said, “Surely you can call me on your way here, then I can make sure I’m in.” “I’m sorry, sir, we simply cannot specify a time. “We can only specify between 8:00 and 12:00 in the morning “and 12:00 and 5:00 in the afternoon.” “Okay, I’ll go for 8:00 and 12:00 in the morning.” “Okay. Can I take your credit-card details?” “Yes. The first digit is between one and seven. How about that? “Can I do that? “I can’t specify a number.” 3:00 in the afternoon, no Sky. Couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. “What time is it, darling? What time is it?” “It’s 3:00.” “Is that between 8:00 and 12:00 in the morning? It isn’t. I’m phoning them. “Where are you? “I think I know how might have left me that message. “We’ll talk about this in a minute. “Where are you?” Then the doorbell went. Always typical, isn’t it? Soon as you start phoning, the doorbell goes. And I was angry, okay. That’s my excuse. I was angry because they were late and that’s why I was rude to this man. I opened the door and I said, “I’ve been waiting for you. “I want it in the living room and I want it in the bedroom. Get started.” As I turned, the doorbell went again. I was like, “Sorry, who are you?” “I’m from Sky.” “Then who are you?” This poor man was standing there, trembling. “I’m from number 40, I came to introduce myself.” (MOUTHING) Not the best start to the neighbourhood. The only things I’ve said to this man are, “I’ve been waiting for you. “I want it in the living room, and I want it in the bedroom.” What confused me and will confuse me till the day I die, is why he then walked into my house. I don’t know who’s more scared of who now. It’s good to be going home, obviously – ’cause I’m going home tonight – ’cause I can’t sleep on the road. Find it very difficult in hotels. I need my wife there, yeah. I need her in bed. You need to be… You know, that’s where I’m most relaxed. She’ll go to sleep before me. I will cuddle in. Arm goes over. Her legs will be like that. I’ll slot mine in nicely behind. And I would sleep like this if it wasn’t for this arm here. (GRUNTING) (GRUMBLING) After a while you just give up and roll away to sleep. And then you’re apart. You’re apart for the night. You wake up in the morning. First words of the day, you have to review the night’s sleep, very important. To catch up on what you’ve missed. “Morning, darling. How did you sleep?” This leads to what is undoubtedly the most boring conversation of the entire day. It baffles me we can even find stuff to put in it. But it can sometimes be a lengthy conversation of extraordinary dullness. “Morning, darling, how did you sleep?” “I was very thirsty in the night. I was very thirsty.” “I was thirsty, too. God, I was thirsty.” “I think it was the pizza.” “You’re right. “It was a very salty pizza. A tremendously salty pizza.” “I had to get up. I had to get up for water.” “I was too lazy to get up. I wanted to. “If I’d have known that you got up I would have had some of your water. “But I didn’t know that you got up. And I was so hot as well.” “You were hot? I was quite chilly. I was actually quite chilly.” “Oh, I was really hot. “I was so hot I had to sleep with one leg out of the covers like that.” “I saw you when I went to get water. “I saw you with one leg out of the covers and I remember thinking, “I remember thinking, ‘He can’t be hot. Can you really be hot?”‘ “Yes, I was. I was very hot and I couldn’t get to sleep for hours.” “Well, you shouldn’t have had that fucking coffee. “I told you not to have the coffee when we were in the restaurant. That’s stupid.” “I just thought it was the right thing to do. I went along with it.” There’ll be dreams to update as well. She’ll say, “I had this really weird dream.” And then she goes on to tell me about it. I can’t help you with that. “I had this really weird dream. We were in this house, we were in this house… “Yeah? In this house, yeah? Yeah? In this house, yeah? “It was our house. It was our house! “But it wasn’t our house. “You were there. You were actually there. You were there. “But it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you.” Nightmares happen on occasion. I think for all people in relationships, every once in a while you have this terrible dream. You have a dream your partner has cheated on you. They have betrayed you in your sleep. It’s a horrible nightmare of deceit. And you are filled with hate. And you wake up in the morning and you’re so relieved. “It was just a dream. That didn’t really happen.” But the hate is still strong within you. I look over at her and I can see she’s just sleeping there soundly, she did nothing. Done nothing to hurt me, just been sleeping sweetly by my side. Nothing to hurt me at all. But I’m staring at her. (GROWLING) “Slut.” “What? Sorry, Michael? Good morning. What did you say?” “I said that you’re a slut and a whore. “How could you do it? With my geography teacher from school!” Sometimes it’s you. Sometimes you’ve had a dream where you’ve had an affair with somebody really weird. Somebody from work or something. And you feel quite guilty. “Oh, shit.” “Morning, Michael. How did you sleep?” “Nothing. Nothing.” Breath is an issue in the morning as well. Breath. Morning breath. What is that about? I don’t understand it. I would understand it if maybe before I went to bed I had, like, some garlic, some onions, some Red Bull and swirled it around in my face. Some kind of cocktail. That’s not what happens. I brush my teeth, flossing, maybe mouthwash… I go to sleep minty fresh, like most of you. Seven, eight hours later, she’s like, “Morning, Michael.” (EXHALING) “Morning, darling.” (EXHALING) “Holy shit! Are you all right, Michael?” (EXHALING) “Yes, I’m fine. I actually slept really well.” “Did you go out in the night?” (EXHALING) “Why would I go out in the night? “I was sleeping here next to you. What are you talking about?” “I actually want you to think about this quite seriously. “At any stage during the night, do you recall eating shit? Did that happen?” (EXHALING) “Why would I eat shit? What are you talking about? That’s insane.” “Are you absolutely certain? Maybe you… “Did you get thirsty and drink from the toilet or…” (EXHALING) “No.” “Perhaps you pissed on your own face. Accidents happen.” Sometimes, despite this, you will still have morning sex. Now, morning sex will always involve morning breath. You just adapt it to keep your heads as far away as possible. Sometimes you get lost in the moment. “Oh, I really…” (SCREAMING) And she’ll tell me about it. That’s what I hate about a long-term relationship. I could do without the honesty. She will literally go, “Sorry, I didn’t kiss you, Michael, but you stink from your face.” “Okay, sorry. I’ll brush my teeth, then.” Could do with a little bit less honesty. Sometimes I’ll go and try and seduce her. “Darling, I was wondering if maybe later you’d like to…” “You have some bogey just…” “Oh, sorry.” “What was it you wanted, Michael?” “I’m fine, actually. To be honest, I’m fine. Let’s just leave it, let’s forget about it. “I’ll just sit here.” “Your ball is hanging out a little bit.” “Oh, for God’s sake, leave me alone.” Deep sleep. Every once in a while, you have a sleep so deep you’ll sleep on your arm. It’s quite fun. You wake up with a dead arm. It’s quite heavy as well. A heavy dead arm. “Darling, my arm is dead. I’ve a dead arm.” (CHUCKLES) (ANIMATEDLY) Hello! I don’t even know how I did it, but recently I contrived to sleep on both of my arms. And they were both dead. I got woken up by the phone ringing. (MIMICS PHONE RINGING) “I’ll get it. “My arms are completely dead.” (CHUCKLES) “I can’t get the phone. “Jeez. Can you just get the phone for me, darling, and hold it to my face?” “How lazy are you?” (CHUCKLING) “My arms are dead, I can’t do anything.” ‘Cause I’m away a lot, she says to me, she says, “I hate it when you’re not here, Michael. ‘Cause I feel safe when you’re here.” I’m like, “I don’t. “I might look like Mr Miyagi. I don’t have the moves, darling.” ‘Cause that is a man’s biggest fear, isn’t it? That you’ll be sleeping soundly at night and she’s like, “Michael! Michael!” (MUMBLING) “Michael, wake up!” (EXHALING) “What? What do you want? I was asleep here.” (EXHALING) “Jesus! Michael, I think there’s somebody in the house. “I think there’s a burglar in the house. “I think somebody’s broken into our house. I can hear them in the kitchen.” That is without a shadow of a doubt man’s biggest fear. That is my biggest fear. In fact, that isn’t my biggest fear. My biggest fear is that that happens and I’ve slept on both arms. That’s my biggest fear. “Shit. Damn. Darling, what do you want me to do?” “I want you to go and find out.” “Find out? Find out what?” “Find out if there’s someone downstairs.” “Darling, remember the other day when the phone was ringing? “I’ve got no arms, I’ve slept on both of my arms.” “Don’t you fucking lie to me. You go and protect this household.” “You’re gonna have to go. You’re in a much better position than I am.” “How could you do this? What about the children?” “Good idea. Send one of them. “Give the little one the Wii and tell the other one there’s ice cream.” “You must go and save us.” “All right, I’ll go! “Shit! “Hey, you. You, in the kitchen, get out of my house. “Don’t make me come over there. “Darling, I’ve got no arms. What do you want me to do?” “Use the breath.” (EXHALING) Thank you very much for listening, ladies and gentlemen. Bravo. Thank you. Thank you. Good night. Thank you. (CROWD CHEERING) Thank you, Wembley. Thank you. Good night. (CHUCKLES) Thank you. Bravo. Good night. (CROWD CHEERING) That is very rude. That’s very rude. Now, you know… No, no, I’m sorry. You know that I do this for a living and this is the end of my work day. You have no right. It’s not fair. When you’re at work and you pop your coat on and go, “Look, I’ll see you guys tomorrow”, the office doesn’t go, “More!” Go out, then come back, do one photocopy, then go home. I’ve been a bit… I’m not gonna lie to you, been a bit stressed, this is quite a big gig, and I’ve been building up to it for a few weeks and I was a bit stressed. A few weeks ago, I was staying in this hotel. I said to my wife, I said, “I’m a bit stressed.” “What are you stressed about?” “A lot of people are coming to see me “and they might not like me and it’s gonna be really scary. “And they will kill me. I’m outnumbered hugely.” (CHUCKLES) She said, “Well, why don’t you go down and have a massage in the hotel?” Never even occurred to me. She said, “It’s very relaxing. They’re very beneficial.” So I phoned down to the spa, and I said, “Look, my wife says, “maybe I need some kind of massage, ’cause I’m quite stressed.” “Oh, yes. You called the right place. “Just pop your dressing gown on from the cupboard and your slippers, “and make your way down to the spa in the basement.” Now, if I was stressed beforehand, I was certainly stressed after I had got lost and wandered into a conference in my dressing gown. (LAUGHING) “A bloke sleepwalking! What a dickhead.” I finally made it down to the spa, where they’re very relaxed. You know, there’s always aromatherapy oils… They can barely speak, they’re so relaxed. (IN CALM TONE) “Hello, sir, can I help you?” “Yes, I just spoke to you earlier.” ‘Cause I’m quite stressed – I get even more posh when I’m stressed. “I just spoke to you earlier. My wife said to me, “‘Go have a massage’, and what do you recommend?” “I think the best thing to do if you’re really feeling stressed is a full-body massage.” So they take me to this little room where they have candles burning and the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore. Aromatherapy scents filling the air. You put your head in this sort of thing… That’s not the relaxing bit. No one’s ever had a tough day at work and come home and got a tennis racquet and gone… “That’s a lot better. I feel really relaxed now.” So you’re lying there, head in this thing, dribbling a bit… And then what happens is a strange woman rubs oil into your body for an hour. Now, due to evolution, there are various natural reactions to this. And fighting those natural urges for an hour is without a shadow of a doubt the least relaxing moments of my entire life. Bear in mind, I went there to de-stress. It starts off okay. She massages your sort of back and your shoulders, then she goes down your arm and does your hands and it’s sort of all right. Then she goes to your leg, glides her hands up your leg and dangerously close to your balls, and then back. If this is one’s ball, this is the kind of distance we’re talking about. Almost like she’s filed her fingernails beforehand. And you’re lying there going… (SMALL YELPS) “If you’d like to turn over for me, Mr McIntyre?” “You’re gonna need to give me a couple of minutes at least, okay?” They basically massage every part of your body except for the key area. I’ve never been more stressed in my life. I could barely walk at the end of it. (GRUNTING) “Hi, darling, how was that?” “Toss me off!” (AUDIENCE APPLAUDING) “Don’t believe it’s your birthday until next month. How very rude.” So she take the piss out of me, she says, “Oh, you obviously can’t handle it. “You can’t handle the benefits of massage.” I said, “I can, but you know, they’re really close to your balls, “and your balls are like that and it’s really difficult.” She said, “Well, why don’t you have a head, neck and shoulder massage?” So I thought, “Okay.” So I tried that, right? I thought I’d be all right, you know? That deals with this sort of area. No one’s ever come up to me and gone, “Hi, Michael”, and I’ve gone, “Mmm.” I’m okay. Same sort of setup – you know, candles are burning, my head’s in the thing, aromatherapy oils filling the atmosphere, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. She massages my neck and my shoulders. And I’m sort of feeling the benefits of massage. Then she goes down my arm and starts doing my hands again. (GASPS) I’m like, “No, she’s made a mistake. She thinks this is the full-body massage. “She’s going to go to my legs in a minute. I can’t cope with that. “I can’t cope with that. I know I can’t cope with that.” So I just innocently enquired, “I’m sorry, I thought you did head…” I didn’t realise quite how that would sound. Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen. (AUDIENCE CHEERING) Thank you. Thank you very much, Wembley. Thank you. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you, Wembley. (WHOOPING) Thank you. Thank you. Good night. Bravo! Thank you. Thank you all. Go home. Safe journey. Thank you, Wembley!


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