No life
A joke too far
Toby Young
Few people have any difficulty recalling the most embarrassing moment of their lives. For me, it was giving the Best Man speech at my friend Sean Macaulay's wed- ding in Washington earlier this year. Stand- up comedians use the term 'dying' to describe the experience of flopping in front of an audience, but that doesn't quite do justice to its awfulness. Apart from any- thing else, you don't have to live with the experience of dying for the rest of your life since, after you've had it, you die. I, on the other hand, will take the memory of that night to my grave.
Fortunately, an opportunity to redeem myself arose last week when I was asked to make the Best Man speech at the wedding of my friends Sean Langan and Anabel Cutler in Ibiza. (Langan wasn't present at Macaulay's wedding.) This time round, I was determined not to flop. If I could pull it off, maybe that would go some way to erasing the shame I still feel about my pre- vious effort. It was as if a beautiful woman was inviting me back into her bed for a sec- ond time, even though I hadn't been able to perform the first time. Here was my chance to show her what I was made of.
There was one sure-fire way to get laughs and that was to tell a string of anti- German jokes. Anabel's mother, Lady Cut- ler, is German and, of the 120 guests at the wedding, about 40 of them were Krauts. `Lady Cutler,' I was tempted to say, 'you mustn't think of yourself as losing a daugh- ter so much as gaining the Sudetenland.' However, while I could rely on the British contingent to laugh at jokes like that, the Germans probably wouldn't be amused. Indeed, Anabel specifically asked me not to tell any anti-German jokes. 'Please, Toby,' she said. 'My mother will be really upset.' Consequently, I knew that if I made any reference to the beach towels strategically placed over the first three rows of seats in the church, or any other equally sopho- moric jokes, I would end up antagonising at least a third of the guests, including the bride and her mother. What was Ito do?
Well, obviously, I told a string of anti- German jokes. In deference to Anabel's feelings, though, I did make some attempt to disguise them as anti-British jokes. For instance, I pointed out that it was just as well the Germans had come with us on our boat trip to Formentera the previous day because without them the Brits would never have been able to put up the mar- quee. I described the comic scenes on the beach as various pissed British hacks strug- gled to erect the sunshade that was sup- posed to go over the picnic table before one of Anabel's strapping German cousins decided to take charge and started order- ing all of us about: 'You, bald man, pick that up and take it over there, yah?' I noted the look of frustration that came over his face when he couldn't think of the techni- cal term to describe the little feet that the four legs of the marquee were supposed to rest on. The best he could come up with was 'white, circular, polycarbonate device about nine millimetres in diameter'.
Initially, this strategy seemed to be work- ing. At one point, when I was showering the Germans with insincere praise, a blonde-haired Valkyrie sitting next to my girlfriend punched the air with her fist and shouted `Jawohl!' However, I did go a little too far. I related how one of the Huns had buttonholed me earlier that evening and told me that weddings in Germany were organised much more efficiently. Appar- ently, back in the old country, they rank all the single people on a scale of one to 50 then make sure that people of equivalent sexual attractiveness are seated next to each other. 'It works very well,' I quoted this German as saying, 'provided the mar- gin of error is no greater than plus or minus ten points. Everybody goes home after and has a nice little f—.' I then paused for dramatic effect and added: 'I must say, I was a little surprised to hear Lady Cutler use the F-word.'
Afterwards I went up to Lady Cutler and expressed the hope that she hadn't been too upset by my constant references to the Germans. 'At first, it was quite funny,' she said, graciously, tut then you went too far. I'd forgotten about the obsession you British have with the Germans, always with the stupid jokes. It's really quite boring.'
I don't know if 'boredom' is the word I'd use to describe the reaction of the Krauts in the audience. As predicted, by shame- lessly playing to the lowest common denominator, my speech went down like gangbusters (whoops!) with the Brits, but the Germans just sat there in stony silence. No doubt they were thinking of exactly what they'd like to do to me with the aid of a meat hook and some piano-wire.
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