My hilarious attempt to be funny (for a change)

Away from my usual articles on anorexia, I wrote some stand-up comedy which I 'performed' in front of my family last Sunday.

I was going to ignore it, but I thought I'd publish it in case someone finds it slightly amusing!

And the winner for the worst comedy goes to...

It's Mother's Day today. A big shout out to all the mums.

Mother's Day is the one day a year where my mum can tell me in no uncertain terms just how difficult it was giving birth to me, not to mention how much of a problem child I was and how I'm responsible for everything from stretch marks to wrinkles to chronic stress.

It's like a different version of white privilege. Society is telling me that I should feel guilty for being white, and today I'll have my mum telling me I should feel guilty for being born. Then there's my anniversary where my wife tells me how lucky I am to be married to her. 

To be honest, the only reason I'm married now is because I was preparing for a Black Lives Matter protest, and when I bent down Naomi mistook it for a proposal.

Married life is great, though, but Naomi always complains that I love cricket more than her. I said, 'howzat?'

Then she complained I watch too much golf, to which I replied 'hush, my little birdie'.

But to be fair to Naomi she is a fan of football. She's always going on about goldenballs and complaining about how bad the mess is. I said he's gone downhill since leaving Barcelona but did well for Argentina at the World Cup.

One thing which does exasperate me, though, is the fact Naomi always ignores my suggestions. I will tell her something and she will ignore it, then a few days later somebody else will suggest the same thing and she will tell me what a brilliant idea it is.

A perfect example is the fact I tried to get us to watch the film One Day, as I really thought she'd enjoy it. Naturally, she gave it 20 minutes while paying more attention to her phone than the TV, before giving up and saying she didn't want to watch any more.

Fast forward a few months and she tells me about this great new TV series she's watching. And you'll never guess what it is called. 

I was angry about the situation but it turns out Naomi has a medical condition called Joe Biden-itis, meaning she is very forgetful.

Speaking of Biden, I'm sure you can't wait for the election in what is known as the land of the free, where everyone is born equal, unless you happen to be black, Native American, Muslim, pregnant, liberal, poor or someone who believes machine guns should be banned from schools.

I'm still in shock that Trump might win again. Not because of his racism, misogyny, sexual assault, financial crimes or his constant lying. No, it's because he cheats at golf, which to golfers is as abhorrent as Catholics would find the Pope advocating abortion.

Try to overturn democracy by advocating a violent insurrection. Meh. But catch him on camera moving his golf ball two inches and he will become a pariah. 

I suppose we have our own version of Trump here in the UK. Nigel Farage has been dubbed a pound-shop Trump, although due to inflation that isn't quite the compliment it used to be.

Still, I have an idea of how to ease the current cost of living crisis. Why not fine MPs every time they tell a lie, or better yet, send them to Rwanda. I'm sure being wealthy and foreign they'll find out just how safe a country it really is.

To be honest, I feel sorry for those people who come here illegally. Imagine smuggling yourself into France, giving up all your savings and risking your life by trying to cross the Channel on a flimsy boat, only to get here and find out you can't get a dentist's appointment. If that's too controversial for you then I'm sorry, but the tooth hurts.

Anyway, I digress. While politics here might be fairly dull, the Royal Family is proving to be much more entertaining.

I have mixed views of Prince Harry. I like that he's going after the tabloid press over phone hacking, but I can't get over the fact he called his book 'Spare'. It just sounds like a rubbish codename for one of those anonymous hackers navigating the dark web.

I can see the name Spare being used in a remake of Minority Report, set in the year 2050, where our prisons are full of people caught trying to use the same Netflix password on multiple accounts.

Picture the head of a fictional cyber crime agency taking a call which informs him that there is a deepfake image of Taylor Swift going viral on social media before she faces off with Kanye West in the Presidential election.

"We must act immediately!" he cries. "Who can we get on the case?"

He turns to his colleague. "Is Detonator available?"

"I'm afraid not, he's re-writing Roald Dahl books in case they offend people."

"Ok, what about Crusher?"

"He's undercover in the Metaverse trying to stop people toppling statues."

"Well then what about Monster or the Destroyer?"

"They're trying to track down Nicola Sturgeon's deleted WhatsApp messages."

"Damn! I guess we have no choice but to bring out Spare."

I suppose that wouldn't have much pull at the Oscars, which is on tonight. But I must confess I've never understood why popular films never seem to do well at awards ceremonies. Perhaps they need to be more tuned into current affairs.

Take James Bond, for instance. Maybe the next installment will have 007 infiltrating a Just Stop Oil protest outside a printing press. Going undercover in his Tesla, Bond sneaks into the building where he is immediately surrounded by activists who chain him to a bench.

The camera then pans to Piers Morgan holding up a mobile phone. "I've been expecting you, Mr Bond," he says gleefully. "But only because M left you a voicemail."

'Damn,' says a clearly flustered Bond, as he sips his alcohol-free Martini while checking his heart rate on Whoop with his one free arm. 

A grinning Morgan continues: "We've checked your paperwork and found that you have no legitimate reason to live in this country, so we're now going to send you to Rwanda."

Bond, as is always the case, manages to escape and reach his Tesla. He speeds off and thinks he has got away, only to break down after 10 miles because he can't find a charging point.