It`s the way I tell `em!

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I have been thinking about doing stand-up comedy, I seem to be able to make people laugh so why not.  Why should my life become more sedate just because I am in my sixties?  So – I was mulling through some of the situations I have found entertaining in my past and thought I could employ the fact that I have survived cancer, as a starting point so here goes with some of my ideas…….

I had breast cancer in 2016, I underwent a lot of treatment including chemotherapy and one of the side effects of chemo` is chronic constipation. I needed a shed load of Senakot and it reminded me of a time years ago when I was similarly affected and went to visit my local Boots where everyone knew me. I asked the pharmacist for some Senakot and she said, “Are they for you?”  For some reason, I have no idea why, I suddenly felt embarrassed and blushing mightily I replied, “No, they`re for my mother.”  She looked at me in a puzzled sort of a way and said, “Helen, your mother died fifteen years ago.”   “Ummmm, for my mother-in-law!” I hastily corrected myself. How daft.

During treatment my immunity levels dropped and I found I was troubled with all sorts of niggling ailments that I would otherwise have fought off, including a permanently stuffy nose. One of my friends suggested I purchase some menthol crystals to inhale some steam and clear it. I tripped to the chemist once again and said to the pharmacist, “Do you have any crystal meths?”   She looked down at me, which isn`t difficult as I am only five foot two and said, “Helen I think you mean menthol crystals?” and then smiling she said, “Mind you, this is Acocks Green, how much do you want?”

And talking of my mother, many years ago my mum and I walked into the Midland Bank in the Green to withdraw some money. My parents had a flat over the bank and at that time, they also had a beautiful ginger cat called (unsurprisingly) Tom.  Most days Tom was in the habit of strolling into the bank through their open office window, for some fuss and a saucer of milk.  Behind the counter worked a young teller called Richard. Richard was ultra conservative and a bit of a fuddy-duddy for such a young person.  Bending over the counter towards my mother and in hushed tones Richard whispered, “Mrs. Pitt, did you know your pussy`s got fleas?”  He was absolutely unaware of what he had just said and my mother and I were in bits, collapsing with laughter. 

I reckon if I add a couple more anecdotes, I`d have a reasonable ten minutes to deliver at my local open mic night……..

 

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