At Least Society Makes Fat People Cover Up So They Don’t Have To Get Sunburned, Seriously, Guys, You’re So Lucky

“This girl was unattractive. I’m not going to say in what way, as beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So if you think brunettes are unattractive, imagine she was brunette. If you are a racist, imagine she was the ethnicity you dislike. And if you’re me, imagine she’s fat and disgusting. You’ve been a wonderful crowd, thank you so much!”

He left the stage. Came down backstage. I love him, I love him so much, one of my favourite friends and a genuinely good comedian, despite… Well, that. Yet I couldn’t congratulate him on a good set. I couldn’t make myself do it. 

“You’ve been in the sun all day?” another comic asked him, as his face was bright red.

“It’s because I’m ginger and I forgot to put on sunscreen today,” he explained with a sadness in his voice, “I don’t think you guys understand how hard it is. How many comments I have to listen to every summer. From friends AND strangers. You guys don’t understand.” he said.

And looked me in the eyes.

Everything Stand-Up Comedy

A comprehensive list of everything about stand-up comedy. Please comment if you know of anything that should be on the list, but isn’t.


Funny People

Man on the Moon

King of Comedy



Sleepwalk With Me

Funny Bones

Mr. Saturday Night


(Nathaniel Metcalfe did a detailed list of comedy films here)





Lead Balloon

It’s Always Funny in Philadelphia, S9.E1: “The Gang Broke Dee” (where Dee does stand-up)


I am Comic

Comedians of Comedy


The Improv: 50 Years Behind The Brick Wall


More Boys Who Do Comedy

Girls Who Do Comedy

Inside Comedy

The Aristocrats

Why We Laugh: Black Comedians on Black Comedy

Why We Laugh: Funny Women

What’s So Funny?

Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work

Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop

95 Miles to Go with Ray Romano

When Stand-Up Stood Out


Talking Funny

Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee by Jerry Seinfeld

The Green Room with Paul Provenza

The Comedy Roundtable with Ben Stiller

In Bed With Joan Rivers (some are comedians)


WTF with Marc Maron

Comedians’ Comedian with Stuart Goldsmith

You Made It Weird

Never Not Funny

Marsha Meets…

Richard Herring’s Leicester Square Theatre Podcast

Comedians Telling Stuff

Seven2Ten with Christian Talbot

Ron Bennington: Unmasked Interviews



Born Standing Up – Steve Martin

Stewart Lee: How I Escaped My Certain Fate

Last Words by George Carlin

Bossypants – Tina Fey

And Here’s The Kicker… by Mike Sacks

Comic Insights: The Art Of Stand-Up Comedy by Franklyn Ajaye

I Killed: True Stories of the Road by America’s Top Comics

I’m Dying Up Here: Heartbreak and High Times in Stand-up Comedy’s Golden Era

Marc Maron: Attempting Normal

The Comedy Bible by Judy Carter

Beyond A Joke: Inside the Dark Minds of Stand-up Comedians by Bruce Dessau

Truth in Comedy: A Manual on Improvisation by Charna Halpern

Zen and the Art of Stand-up Comedy by Jay Sankey

The Comic Toolbox: How to be funny even if you’re not by John Vorhaus

Pryor Convictions: And Other Life Sentences by Richard Pryor

The Naked Jape: Uncovering the Hidden World of Jokes by Jimmy Carr & Lucy Greeves

Satiristas: Comedians, Contrarians, Raconteurs & Vulgarians by Paul Provenza

Rationale of the Dirty Joke by G. Legman

Ladies & Gentlemen: Lenny Bruce

Successful Stand-up Comedy: Advice from a Comedy Writer

Be a Great Stand-up: Teach Yourself by Logan Murray

The Comedy Store by William Cook

Live From New York by Tom Shales

Getting the joke – The Inner Workings of Stand-Up Comedy by Oliver Double

Stand Up! On being a Comedian by Oliver Double

Stand-up Comedy in Theory, or, Abjection in America by John Limon

We Killed: The Rise of Women in American Comedy

Frank Skinner on the Road: Love, Stand-up Comedy and The Queen Of The Night

Thanks For Nothing by Jack Dee

Comedy at the Edge: How Stand-Up in the 1970s Changed America

I Laughed, I Cried: How One Woman Took on Stand-Up and (Almost) Ruined Her Life

(Thanks for contributions to: Sebastian Dorset, Karl Schultz, Christian Talbot, Nathaniel Metcalfe, Tim Wells, Martin Croser, Jakob Svendsen, Jake Pickford, Henriette Thuesen Dissing, Cameron Loxdale, Robert Coupée, Rasmus Hetoft Hansen, Pelle Jørgensen, Andy Malt, Matt Smith, Gerard Carroll)

24 Things Denmark Taught Me About Being a Comedian

Denmark is paradise, if you want to start doing comedy. Every night you gig with experienced, famous and professional comedians who are eager to teach you everything they know – as stand-up is still so new, that it’s in everyone’s best interest that no one sucks at it.

I have attempted to remember every single thing I’ve picked up from the Danish stand-up circuit. You may not agree with them. You may not even recognize them. And sure, since I moved to the UK, I’ve learned other things, that are in direct opposition with some of these rules. But as it is with most rules or pieces of advice: Only listen to the ones that make sense to you.

1. Never say ‘no’ to a gig. In Denmark there are very few gigs. In Copenhagen there is a total of five or six open mics a week and around 30-40 people wanting a spot each night. Stage-time is precious, so do it whenever you can. And no matter how shitty it seems, you can always learn something from a gig.

There are very few gigs in Denmark, so you better appreciate your stage time.
There are very few gigs in Denmark, so you better appreciate your stage time.

2. Taglines, taglines, taglines. I didn’t now how much taglines meant in Denmark, before I moved to the UK. When you watch a Danish stand-up set, it’ll be packed with punchlines followed by several tags. It’s a thing – the comedians watch each others’ sets all the time and offer each other ideas for new taglines. I almost want to say, that in Denmark, if there isn’t a tagline at the end of a punchline, the joke isn’t done.

3. Know the terminology. Punchline, tagline, heckle, callback, callforward, one-liner, pull-back-and-reveal (in Denmark called a ‘decoy’). Know the basics – why a ‘k’ is funnier than an ‘s’, the rule of three, the rule of no lists, etc. It’s a craft as much as it’s an artform. Read the books, study it.

4. If the joke doesn’t work all the time, make it funny or get rid of it. The actual quote I think was, “If the joke doesn’t work the first time, I throw it out, because no matter what, it will never have worked 100% of the times and then it’s not a perfect joke.” said by a really incredible one-liner comic. It’s quite harsh – and I’m not sure if even he lives by that rule all the time. But the point is strong: How many times does your joke work? 50% of the time? 90% of the time? Aim for the highest possible percentage. Or throw it away – or make it funny.

The Danish comedy club Comedy Zoo. Capacity 150ish people. Mondays and Wednesdays are new material nights for the experienced comics. Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday there's professional shows.  New material nights cost around £7-9 to get in and the professional nights are between £15-20.
The Danish comedy club Comedy Zoo. Capacity 150ish people. Mondays and Wednesdays are new material nights for the experienced comics. Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday there’s professional shows. New material nights cost around £7-9 to get in and the professional nights are between £15-20.

5. You need to be more than funny. This theory was presented to me by a Danish comedian, who is very geeky and intense when it comes to studying stand-up. It’s his theory, but I agree. It takes 7 things to become a good/successful comedian:

  • Funny bones – You have to be funny. This cannot be learned. You either have it or you don’t.
  • Writing technique – You have to be good at writing jokes. You can learn this by reading the books and doing the studying.
  • Delivery – You have to be able to deliver a joke. You can learn this by gigging loads.
  • Passion – You have to want it. There are loads of people wanting to be comedians. It’s very, very hard getting there. Lots of dying, sweating, tears, time and money. Want it.
  • Originality – You have to be able to bring something to the table, that hasn’t been seen before. Be yourself.
  • Persistence. You have to keep going.
  • Realistic and analysing mindset – You have to be able to look at yourself and your abilities realistically. You have to be able to analyse everything you’re doing with your stand-up – why is it funny, when is it funny, how is it funny? Why are they laughing, which kind of laugh are they laughing?

6. Film all your gigs and practice daily in front of the mirror. I got this advice from a great act who walked out during my set. Afterwards, when I confronted him, he told me that he had to go, because otherwise he’d die of boredom from watching my show. Then he gave me this advice, which is possibly one of the best advices I’ve ever heard.

7. You’ll die the first 10 times you gig. And the next 80. And it’ll never stop. I remember the first time I bombed in Denmark. Like, really fucking crashed and burned. I was sad beyond sad and went and told the other comedians. They all patted my back and congratulated me – because, as they said, for the first time, I was learning. And I was slowly becoming an actual comedian.

8. Just don’t wear the cardigan. It’s a lovely story that I’ve always remembered: Comedian Mikkel Malmberg was just starting out and told much more experienced comedian Thomas Warberg that he felt like he had to wear a cardigan every time he performed, otherwise he wouldn’t be funny. Warberg turned to him and said, “Then just don’t wear the cardigan.” – Basically, if you have any weird rules in your head for when you’re going to be funny or not, fuck it. There were lots of rules when I started out: Don’t wear shorts on stage, don’t have your hair down, etc. Kill it. Do it. And be funny anyways.

This is almost all of the Danish comedians in one picture. Imagine that.
This is almost all of the Danish comedians in one picture. Imagine that.

9. No writing on your hand. No bringing notes. And no water. I would always bring notes and water to the stage, when I was starting out. Until a comedian said to me, “You don’t need it. You have to learn how to remember your material. You’re just doing five minutes, you don’t need water. Water shouldn’t be necessary until you’re doing twenty-minute-spots.” (I’d still do it. Then he started ripping it out of my hands as I was walking to the stage. Turns out I didn’t need it.)

10. Don’t be nervous. He was really nervous. He told me. I said the good ol’ line, “It’s good being nervous! It means you care!” and he stared me down and said, “Comedy is the one thing I can do. I can’t be nervous.” and for some reason, that has always helped me in certain situations.

11. Don’t read from a piece of paper. Learn it by heart. Remember it. Reading makes you seem unprepared and lazy.

12. There are different kinds of laugh. Genuine belly-laughs, pity-laughs, wow-this-is-awkward-laughs, laughing-AT-you-laughs, laughing-with-you-laughs. Sometimes it’s not enough that they’re laughing, the laugh has to be right.

Myself and comedian Ivan Andersen in front of Den Glade Gris. It's the venue that first had stand-up in 1987. Back then it was called Din's.
Myself and comedian Ivan Andersen in front of Den Glade Gris. It’s the venue that first had stand-up in 1987. Back then it was called Din’s.

13. If you do material about a certain group of people, but you can’t do it in front of them, don’t do it at all. Comedy in Denmark is only 26 years old, meaning that there are a lot of, uhm, let’s say, inappropriate jokes going around. You know, casual misogyny and ironic racism thrives. So it quickly became a saying. If you edit out a joke because there’s someone in the crowd you’re scared of offending, you shouldn’t do the joke.

14. Do your material again and again and again… I was recently criticised by a British open mic’er for “always doing the same set”. I realised it was another thing, I’ve picked up in Denmark, but I have no idea exactly where it came from. All I know is that a joke is never finished. It can always get better. Not just the words – but the way you say it. You change as a person as well and so your material will have to change with you. I never “just do the same joke again and again” – without always trying to push myself to think of new taglines, new ways of saying it or new intros, endings or angles. Actually, a British agent once told me that what he did, when finding out if he wanted to sign someone, he always asked them how long it took them to write their best jokes. He said he’d only sign people who said, “Years.”

15. It’s never the audience’s fault. It’s just not. Never. Ever. You just weren’t funny enough. Don’t you dare trying to place the responsibility on anyone or anything but yourself and your lack of talent, hard work or skills.

The very first Danish comdians, 26 years ago.
The very first Danish comedians, 26 years ago.

16. Kill. When I was about to do my 8th ever gig, the MC said to me, “You have to kill tonight.” and I panicked and tried to explain to him that I couldn’t – I was nowhere near good enough. He said, “I don’t care. You have to. Otherwise, I’ll never put you on another line-up again.” – and I ended up approaching the gig with a mindset of “I have to kill, so I will kill.” and that made what seemed to be a horrible threat be a really, really good lesson learned. No excuses. Always aim to be the very best. Better than you think you are.

17. … But killing is hard. In Denmark, killing means that at no point during your time on stage, did the audience stop laughing and applauding. At no point. You have to think it’s slightly annoying that you cannot get to your punchlines, because the audience are making too much noise. If they “just” laugh at all of your punchlines, that’s “just” a good show. You were great. Awesome. But it wasn’t killing. Killing means that no one can follow you. That the audience were crying with laughter. You don’t throw the sentence “I killed” around loosely in Denmark.

18. Always open. The story goes like this: Anders Matthesen (probably the biggest comedian in Denmark) would always show up at open mics and demand to open the gig. The room is cold, in Denmark especially, as there will always be people in who’ve never seen stand-up before. So he’d open and take the punches and get really good. I’m not sure if it’s still like this – but when I did the open mic circuit in Denmark, when the MC asked, “Who wants to open?” everyone better fucking put their hands up, otherwise you’d get a dirty, dirty look, saying “Oh. You don’t want to be good? You just want it easy? Fine.” and you could expect to be offered fewer spots from then on.

19. If you take a break from comedy, you can just give up completely. I know the attitude to this has changed a lot and that a lot of people disagree, but when I started out, the comedians I listened to had the rule: If you are capable of taking a break from comedy, that means you are not taking it seriously enough. It means you don’t want it enough. It means you don’t need it, like so many others do.

20. Open with B, put C in the middle and close with A. I get the feeling it’s the same in the UK. Close with your best joke, open with your second-best joke and put the rest in the middle. Another comedian gave me this recipe: Open with something about yourself, put the dirty/edgy stuff in the middle and close on something nice.

21. Don’t do new material to people who have paid to come to a professional comedy show. Open mics are for new material. Pro nights are for tested material. There will be people in the audience who have a busy daytime job and four kids and they only have a budget for ONE night a month to go out and have fun. They’ve paid £20 (Welcome to Denmark…) to go to a comedy club and even more money on the dinner beforehand and the babysitter had to be paid as well. Then how dare you show up with your notes and untested jokes? It’s not only disrespectful to the audience, it’s also rude to the comedian who has to follow you and to the booker who has booked you.

22. Don’t do TV before you’re ready. It’s an actual scare in Denmark. There are so few comedians and stand-up is still booming, so within the first years of performing, you’ll most likely be offered some kind of TV and it will most likely be too soon.

In Denmark you can't make a living from doing comedy clubs, as there's only one club. So you sometimes have to accept a TV-offer to be able to pay rent. Sometimes the TV show will demand that you get naked and wear a thong. Did I mention that a lot of Danish comedians are quite good-looking - even in thongs? (Especially in thongs)
In Denmark you can’t make a living from doing comedy clubs, as there’s only one club. So you sometimes have to accept a TV-offer to be able to pay rent. Sometimes the TV show will demand that you get naked and wear a thong. Did I mention that a lot of Danish comedians are quite good-looking – even in thongs? (Especially in thongs)

23. PUNS SUCK! It’s probably the thing I love the most about Denmark. Puns are evil and cringeworthy and will only be accepted if it’s done extremely well and by someone who’s already respected and established – and even then, it’ll probably be delivered very sarcastically. It’s considered too easy and lame.

24. You’re not a comedian. There are different definitions, depending on who you ask, but the the most popular rule seems to be that you are not a comedian, before your main income comes from comedy. You are not allowed to call yourself ‘comedian’. You are, however, allowed to say that you “do comedy”.

It’s important to point out that not all Danish comedians will agree with all of these points. Some of them will probably never have heard of most of it. It sounds like I am making a generalisation, so consider this a disclaimer: I do not speak on the behalf of the Danish stand-up circuit. I have merely gathered all the rules I try to live by in comedy and I’m pretty sure Denmark was the place, where I picked all of them up. Either from a loose backstage-chat or from one comedian in particular or maybe just from experience. Also, some of these rules are probably taken from comedy books or autobiographies. I’m not saying we invented rules.

Oh, and I am also not saying that I follow all of these rules always – but I do feel guilty, when I don’t. If I write my set on my hand, if I feel like it’s the audience’s fault or when I get really nervous before a gig, for example.

Basically, the best advice I have ever heard, I’ve heard from both Danish and British comedians and it’s very, very simple: Don’t take anyone’s advice. 

more like #nomakeupselfiSH, amirite?

I’ve been meaning to cure cancer for a while. Breast-cancer in particular, because if we didn’t have boobies, men would be sad and there’s nothing we hate more than sad men. Remember International Women’s Day? So many men were so sad and it made it very, very hard to masturbate with the vibrating pieces of plastic we’ve replaced them all with.

Whilst attempting to cure breast-cancer, I have also been attempting to watch all ten (!) seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. Not because it’s good. Trust me. Not. Because. It’s. Good. But because I am curious to what they are going to do when each doctor runs out of family members that can either die or fuck the other doctors’ love interests. And when will McDreamy realise that Meredith is a boring brat? And when will Sloan start taking off his shirt more? Diagnose me, Sloan. Diagnose me.

Watching terrible TV has gotten in the way of curing cancer. So when #nomakeupselfie became a thing, I was on it! ON IT LIKE CALLIE ON GEORGE IN SEASON FOUR! I posted a picture of me not wearing make-up. Phew. That was close. And just to make sure, I double-checked my boobs. I do that often, but I have no idea what I’m searching for. Lumps? They are lumps. Anything unusual? They’re big weird meat-lumps in the middle of my chest-area. They seem quite unusual already.

No one told me I was brave for posting a picture of myself not wearing make-up. I was disappointed. I barely got a thank-you for attempting to cure a dangerous disease. Ungrateful bastards, I thought. That night I went out without make-up on. YEAH, LIKE A FREAKIN’ HERO. Take that, girls-with-low-self-esteem. No biggie. No. Biggie.

The world was my oyster. I had cured breast-cancer in one morning, by posting the picture. Going out without make-up surely must have cured lung-cancer too or at the very LEAST testicular cancer (the worst one of them all! No testicals means no kids OR NO TEABAGGING!).

“What’s next?” a bitter voice sounded, “To raise awareness for stomach-cancer, we all post pictures of our bare stomachs?”

Heart drop. CODE BLUE. Page Doctor Burke. Yes, I know they fired him from the show because he was a homophobe, but he’s a better doctor than Doctor Hahn. What, with her being a WOMAN and all. If showing my stomach to the world meant that I would for definite cure all kinds of cancer, AIDS and the flu, I would still have a good and long think about it. A good and long think.

When I was 16, I hated every single part of my body. I’m 25 now and I’ve learned to really love most of it. I mean, I am almost angry that I can’t look at my legs, thighs and ass as much I would like to. It has taken me a while, but my face is freakin’ awesome. My boobs are good boobs because they are boobs and they are mine. You can quote me on that. They are there, they’re doing their job (attracting unwanted male attention) and eventually they’re going to make someone very happy (a man, not a baby. Ever.). I’m fine with my arms – there was a time where I would NEVER show my arms, not even the un-wobbly part, because I have dark hairs on them. Then I met a kick-ass teacher who always wore tank-tops and she yelled at me, “Do you think I’M disgusting because of my hairy arms?!” and I only thought she was cool. So I started showing my arms.

I have even learned to live with my huge feet.

But the stomach. Oh.

I started noticing that men who were sexually interested in me, had a tendency to touch it. They would just place a hand on it. Just like that. Like they wanted my fat-baby to kick or something. Like they were testing it before taking it for a ride, like men who kick car-tires do. It was terrifying. I’ve learned to take it as a compliment, even though my insides curl up into a little ball and press against my heart. Every time.

One day I’ll do a #noshirtonstomachselfie. And that will be the day I have won. Because I have never had a man tell me, that he didn’t find me attractive because of my stomach. My fat, sure. But my fat is everywhere – ass, boobs, chins. But it has never been the stomach alone. It does not deserve this hatred. I have been taught to hate my stomach by women’s magazines, commercials, MTV, Weight Watchers, fitness centres, movies and so far, five seasons of Grey’s Anatomy, where the token plus sized women are pear-shaped (If you don’t know what pear-shaped means, good. Live in happy ignorance of that little pearl of knowledge.) or dying because of a large-ass tumor in their stomachs.

So many have declared war on the beauty industry recently. Or maybe I have just started noticing it now. Either way, it’s happening. Poetry slammers, comedians, models, actors, websites, musicians. On Twitter, Instagram, blogs, Tumblr, Facebook, Vine. Women (and men) are getting stronger and tougher and dare to speak up. We are now posting our gorgeous make-up-less photos on the internet. Fat men and women are posting beautiful pictures of themselves naked. Disabled people are taking over the catwalks. LGBTTIQQ2SA people are claiming their rights to be represented. It’s inspiring.

So really, not only have we just cured all cancer, we’ve taken quite a bit step. Another big step. Martin Mor said it. Angela Barnes said it. That maybe one day, #nomakeupselfie will be nothing but a Wikipedia-page about this weird point in time, where women thought smearing chemicals all over their faces was essential for going outside. And that there were people for whom just the thought of showing a part of their body would result in cardiac arrest. There was a time where a bunch of old men in suits ran this beauty industry that was basically killing people all over, by the weapon of self-hatred.

There was a time when Derek still thought Meredith was awesome, when Alex still hadn’t dealt with his mommy issues, when George and Issie still hadn’t found each other and most importantly, there was a time where “cancer” was a thing. That, of course, was before Sofie Hagen cured it by posting an awesome photo of herself online – with loads and loads of filter, of course. No one’s THAT confident, that they’d post it without filter.

Fatphobic People Say The Darndest Things

This blogpost was first featured on Huffington Post.


Like most fat people, I have had a lot of mindless, hateful abuse spat at me.

Strangers have either shouted “Fuck you, fat b*tch!” after me as I walked down the street or simply added a “You shouldn’t eat that.” if I eat anything but lettuce in public.

Maybe this sounds unbelievable to you, but this has become such a normal part of my everyday life that I barely notice it anymore. It’s so common that there is now a word for it: Fatphobia.

I have found a way to deal with empty hatred. A way to make the inner voice loud enough to silence them. I remind myself that I am good enough. And that every fat-hating thought they have is a product of brainwashing by media, where body image and exploitation of low self-esteem is a multi-million dollar industry.

But there’s something else I’ve been encountering – fatphobia that comes from a well-meaning place, and I have no idea how to react to it.

In my stand-up comedy, I sometimes talk about being fat. It’s all fat positive. I wish to promote the message, that you can love your fat body and that you can love other fat bodies. This has triggered some strange reactions.

I have made a top three:

1. I was being interviewed by a journalist, who had seen my act. At one point, he leaned in and said, “I love the fact that you talk about being unattractive.”

I don’t. I talk about being fat. It is not the same thing. It. Is. Not. The. Same. Thing.

2. During a gig, in the midst of my jokes about being fat, a very happy fellow on the first row lit up into a huge smile and shouted, “Fat girls are always friendly!”

What a sweet and kind prejudice, but nevertheless, a prejudice that’s based on the fact that being fat is looked down upon: lots of fat people go through years of bullying and end up as people-pleasers in order to not be bullied anymore. To make a long story short, we had a little chat and he changed his mind.

3. After a show a man came up to me and said, “I really loved your set, especially the part about men who like big girls. I can relate. You see, I don’t often get what I want. Sometimes I have to settle for fat girls too. Can I buy you a drink?”

It’s almost an excerpt from Romeo & Juliet. Was it not Romeo who first said the words, “Meh, you’ll do.” or was it Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights?

I have learned to deal with idiots, but what makes this – and the rest of the comments – hard to listen to, is the fact that these guys meant well. Which means that fat-phobia is so engraved in our society that we don’t perceive these attitudes and opinions as prejudice, we see them as reflective of facts.

All I can do, is to look on the bright side of things. It’s a step in the right direction- at least we are discussing it. If some half-brain shouts “Die, fatso!” after you in the streets and you attempt to chase them down to give them a lil’ piece of your mind, nothing apart from a restraining order will come from it.

But if someone takes your hand and says, “You are fat, but you look good anyway”, you have the space and time to explain to him, “No, I am fat and I look good. Period.”

You can take him out for a proper meal and teach him, like you’ve had to teach yourself, that being fat does not equal being a person unworthy of respect, love or attention. That beauty is in fact subjective and some people are attracted to fat people, some people are attracted to skinny people and some people, believe it or not, do not care about looks at all. And most importantly, teach him that his opinions are irrelevant, as your body was not made to please him. Or anyone else.

[I realise that the woman in the photo is pregnant, but there are no photos of fat women in the stock photo archieve and this was the closest I got to one.]

You’re fat and I don’t mind that much so let’s have the sex now okay?

After my gig, a man in a silly sailor’s costume walked up to me. Here we go. Another stag-do-freak-a-ton. He introduced himself as Mark and explained himself. See, Mark was an actual sailor and worked for the Royal Navy in an actual nuclear submarine, where he spends three months at a time and then has ten days off. This was his first day off. He nodded towards the three big suitcases, he had brought with him.

Now. It’s really hard to not fall into the trap of slightly liking men in uniforms, but it’s without a doubt impossible not to indulge yourself in a fantasy, where your boyfriend spends three months in a closed space with only other men. The perfect man.

“I loved your set,” Mark said, “Especially the thing about men who likes fat girls. I can relate.”

Oh, can you? CAN YOU? Because you absolutely love us fat girls? Because you’re the perfectest man in the universe? In and out of water?

“Oh. How so?” I asked.

“Well, I’m a sailor.” he smiled, “Sometimes, we don’t get what we want either.”

“… What?”

“Yeah, we often have to settle!”

“You mean… Settle for a fat girl.”

Mark paused,

“Uhm. When you say it like that, it sounds offensive.”


“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“No, thanks, I’m tired. I’m going home.” I excused myself and left. On the bright side, I’ve never before thought there was anything at all positive about a nuclear war. And men in uniform are somewhat less interesting now.