THE SPEECH: Bad Taste – Amplified
Sorry but there is no sex in this tale. The story does get a little risqué with wording and the addition of some rather lewd jokes but nothing that could be described as erotic.
For the jokes I have to credit Jimmy Carr, the British comedy star. I have neither the delivery skill nor aptitude for comedy that he has. I added some of his jokes to help "spice up" the content of the speech for this story. Obviously they weren't part of the original speech so this is simply my creative licence in action. After each joke I use I add a small (JC) to remind the reader whose talent was responsible.
Happy reading.
LS
*****
Getting older isn't all it was cracked up to be, I thought. I certainly wasn't getting any wiser.
I was going through a box of my old college materials, as we are wont to do on cold, raining days when we have little else to occupy our time. This box and others like it, had been stored for many years and it was now decision time. Dump it or store it in some way that would make the contents meaningful.
It was like stirring a porridge of memories and floating through a tidal wave of emotions. Mmmm the audacity of youth kept coming to mind as I sifted carefully though long forgotten essays and projects that I had saved for reasons that now escaped me.
Then I saw it. Well, this one I remembered. Rather vividly.
I clutched in my hand preparation notes and the final draft of a speech I had given that resulted in a turning point in my life. One of those pivotal points we can sometimes recall that resulted in either a massive positive direction or a turn into "the dark side" of life.
Kneeling over the box wasn't doing much good for my knees nor my back, so I staggered to my feet and with notes and speech in hand, made my way to a comfortable lounge chair.
My days at St Thomas of Canterbury College were memorable only in that I "grew up". Certainly my academic achievements were nothing to be proud of. I had muddled my way through college managing to remain firmly mediocre.
My only notable movement to the centre of the Bell curve of achievement was in sports, chess (For some reason I had the type of logical mind that allowed me to be quite good. It was also the days of Boris Spassky Vs Bobby Fischer battles and if you remember that you'll know when this tale takes place. The early 1970's.) Plus one other thing I was good at: public speaking.
It was weird really because I was actually quite shy and didn't like drawing attention to myself. Even weirder was the fact I had shone in acting classes in my previous school which had led to me being seconded to the debating team. I had been pressured to take part in a huge inter-school competition where I had a massive meltdown when my mind went blank and I was left standing in front of a hall full of hundreds of people. I had always memorised my speeches and didn't use Q cards so when my mind went blank, I was err "fucked good and proper". The only way to describe it really.
The shock and public embarrassment of that made me decide to never speak in public again. When I went to college no one knew of my previous abilities and massive failure so I simply kept it to myself. I was safe, as long as I kept quiet.
It was only years later that I understood that, when I acted in roles, it wasn't "me" they were seeing but the character I was playing. Only then could I let myself be free. Hindsight is a wonderful thing!
By now some of you readers might be wondering why this story is about a speech, if I were so opposed to them. The reason is simple: Lust. Well, to be more precise, the desire to impress a female. What a driving force that is in a young man.
To give further context to the situation, St Thomas's College was divided into two student streams: Commercial and Academic. I was firmly based in the academic stream.
Commercial pushed you to being an accountant, lawyer, engineer, architect etc. while Academic prepared you for diplomatic service, politics and teaching roles. For example, in preparation at my previous school we were expected to take introduction levels of Greek, Latin, German and French languages. Not necessarily to continue with them, although that was available. No, it was so that we might better understand the English language. Word origins etc.
As an aside, no preparation was given at my college to producing mechanics, electricians, house builders. Generally, the Trades. I was told that if one of those careers was my aim, it might be better if I went to another college. True story. That situation has changed now, thankfully.
So, after a few years of my quiet non-achievement at college, we had a new teacher start, specialising in English and English literature. She was Canadian, slim, long blonde hair and enjoyed wearing short skirts and knee-high boots. Remember, it was the seventies. Her name was Penelope Drennan.
This was at a boys only, single sex college that had Christian Brother teachers. You can imagine the reaction. Class attendance reached an all-time high.
Talk about a crush. Perhaps it was only lust after all, thinking back on it. Oh there was nothing inappropriate from her side. All the lustful thoughts were one way from the students.
Suddenly my Rip Van Winkle slumber awoke and, for some reason, my interest in English as a subject improved dramatically. With 29 students in the class, I had been ranked at 27 in this subject before her arrival. That improved to number 4 in the space of 5 months.
Then the event occurred that would forever change my life. It was announced that one of our semester assignments would be that each student had to give a 20 minute prepared speech on the subject of their choice, to the other class members.
For me, it was decision time. If I wanted to impress her, I would have to face my fears and deliver something worthy of her appreciation.
Miss Drennan had also explained to us that she didn't like censorship and encouraged the students to be open in both written and oral language. To test her and "push the envelope" some of the boys wrote crude, expletive riddled essays, just to get a reaction. It didn't bother her in the slightest, except that they were marked down if the language was out of context.
So, what to do? After a lot of soul searching I had come to the conclusion that if I simply went with the flow and presented a "normal" type subject, with an average skill level, I would end up with an "average" type grade. Definitely not enough to make myself standout and impress the lovely Miss Drennan.
This mission, this quest for a grand presentation, would require something completely out of the box. In fact, off the entire grid, if I wanted "spectacular". I needed to take a massive risk if I wished to win the fair maiden's attention. (Yeah, ok. Remember, I was a student fantasising about my teacher so my creative mind had already started a slow burn. So cut me some slack here.)
The talk content needed to be daring, perhaps even risqué, to capture the interest of my male classmates.
That would mean a provocative delivery, with enough slightly crude words contained, to ensnare the attention of the very intelligent, almost jaded, audience. The know-it-all new generation need something very different to be impressed. They needed a "take that, you fuckers" presentation but still gilded in wordings and structure to abide by the creative artistic licence we had been given.
What I needed to provide, I thought, was something in complete bad taste, cloaked with an innocent delivery from someone they didn't "rate" as an academic.
The gem of an idea had sprouted. Over the next few days, I gently stoked the embers until it blossomed into a respectable fire. Too much and it would get out of control but I thought I had the balance just right.
We were all required to have our talks ready for day one. Somehow Miss Drennan had managed to arrange for a whole week to be allocated to the talks, getting our other subjects put aside. Remember, the college gave a great deal of importance to perfecting an extremely high standard in all aspects of English for the Academic stream, so it was understandable.
