So you tell me I’ve got one last chance to stand up and explain myself. Well the first thing, Judge: he said I was as drunk as…
Well okay, ‘Your Honour’. The prosecutor-guy said I was as drunk as a judge and I wasn’t.
Yes, I meant as drunk as a lord, mi’lord. But can I get on with it?
It was more ‘unsound judgement in the pursuit of a true calling’ than ‘indecent assault’ like prosecutor-guy says. You can tell he hires a buff Latino to clean the pool for his wife; meanwhile he’d rather be doing ‘litigation’ instead. Hey, nothing personal dude, all lawyers are soulless fucks.
Yeah, okay, sorry Judge-dude – occupational hazard you know – podium, microphone, bored audience – maybe sometimes you like to pass judgement when you’re sitting in the theatre.
Right. My story. It was no big deal if you understand the context – I was working, I needed new material and my muse was on maternity leave after last season. Suddenly, in the bar mirror behind the barman, I see this bald guy wearing white cargo pants and a bright apricot golf shirt – And I think to myself: What would cute guy do if someone tall gave into temptation and leapt on him and kissed him all over that soft, shiny dome with a vigour usually reserved for puppies.
The problem was I didn’t know how he would react – and I needed to know – for my career, for my art, to fill my role in this society!
Time up already? It goes so fast when my flow gets flowing; just got to say that if the court liked what it heard today it should swing by the Jet stream club and pay to see my new show: “Stand Up For Sentencing!”