It is essential to subject yourself to embarrassment and total humiliation from time to time. If you experience it often enough, you become completely immune to blushes.
I make a complete arse of myself quite regularly actually, but it has become similar to water off a duck’s back. I do not intend to make myself look an arse – this is something I just do with natural grace and ability, like a swan in a lake.
My Top 3 complete “tit-tastic” tales are probably the following.
When I was about 17, I went to order some pizza for a few of us late on a Friday night. For whatever reason we didn’t have a phone in the house so I had to use the phone box down the road.
I got there, dialled the number, which was something like 1239999 and got ready to rhyme off the order but instead of hearing “Hello greasy Pizza can I take your order?”, I heard “Emergency Operator, which service do you require?”
“Oh no!! – Oh I’m sorry I’ve dialled the –
“Hello? Which emergency service do you require?”
“No I’m sorry! I’ve dialled you accidentally and –”
I then heard the woman talking to another man on the line, saying, “We have a silent telephone call from the phone box at ________, telephone has a reported fault. Can you send someone over to check it out?”
The phone was obviously faulty but had still registered the last three digits of the number I was dialling (being 999 of course). I shouted my tits off to try to get her to hear me but she couldn’t.
Nightmare. I’d have to just explain to them what happened when they turned up. As luck would have it, the police were just down the road as the call went out for someone to attend, but it was not your average little patrol car with a couple of coppers in. God no.
It was a riot van on its way back from some trouble in the town centre and was filled with about 20 police officers in full riot gear.
Out they jumped with “Did you ring us love? Is everything alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine thanks. Would you believe me if I said I was only trying to ring for a pizza?”
2. WINDSCREEN WASH
I was on my way to work one morning during rush hour, with traffic bumper to bumper following heavy snow the previous night. My car was caked in mud, grit and sludge and looked a general disgrace, but to make matters worse, I didn’t have any windscreen wash left. The wiper blades just smeared crap across the windscreen like it was applying a detoxifying mud treatment and I couldn’t see at all.
The traffic came to a complete standstill due to road works so whilst I was stationary, I quickly searched the door and glove compartments for a bottle of water or something I could use for the time being. All I had was a little tub of “Bubble Magic” belonging to my niece and whilst it wasn’t ideal, it would have to do. It was an old car anyway so I wasn’t arsed about not putting the proper tackle in.
Anyway, I jumped out, quickly put the bonnet up, emptied the tub into the compartment, slammed the bonnet back down and jumped back in the car…. (You know what’s coming don’t you?)
Traffic starts moving; I give the windscreen wash a blast and out came hundreds and hundreds of beautiful, crisp bubbles. They danced across the cars, blew past the road workers and temporary traffic lights, and started heading out over the fields.
As I gradually picked up speed and slumped further down in my seat, the bubble output increased and they became bit fat “f**k off” bubbles the size of beach balls, honestly – they were huge and were still coming out thick and fast as I pulled into the hospital car park and turned the heads of several patients, staff and visitors…
However, the best “Oh My God, I pray for alien abduction right now” moment has to be this one.
This happened when I was with my ex-boyfriend (T) a few years ago. I had been seeing him for a fair few months but hadn’t yet met his family, who lived a good 200 miles away and they were always going on about the fact they’d never laid eyes on me.
So, one day we travelled down to meet them and stay at his grandparents’ house but got there early. T had a key, so we just let ourselves in, threw our bags down and put the kettle on before he quickly jumped in the shower.
With him in the shower and me short of something to do, I clocked his grandmother’s stairlift, which was alongside the biggest, grandest staircase you have ever seen. The temptation was too much and I sat myself down, fastened the seatbelt and tried on his grandfather’s flat cap.
I was half way up the stairs at 0.5mph when in walked the entire family who until that point, had been excitedly looking forward to meeting me.
What made it even better was that I didn’t immediately stop the stair lift and was still going up at 0.5mph when I smiled and said to them “Hi… I bet you’re really hoping I’m only a burglar aren’t you?”
Put yourself in awkward situations. It is quite therapeutic in many ways…