You ‘guest’ it, it’s a tough gig
ONE major risk associated with life as a human being is that you find yourself at a fundraising dinner. It has happened to me on umpteen occasions.
Sometimes it is because, in yet another unguarded moment, I‘ve agreed to say something in those awkward minutes between the end of the main course and the arrival of the dessert. I have to spend weeks trying to think of something slightly funny to say that hasn’t already been said on another occasion, to most of those who will be present.
This preparation is usually done without any advice from the organisers.
Who, why and how many are likely to be present? What will have been their likely grog consumption before I get to my feet?
Organisers must not necessarily be blamed for these advice oversights. They probably have no idea themselves. Anyway, “we only want you to speak for not more than 12 minutes and you can make it up as you go along”.
Yeah, right. Eaaasy-peeesy. A doddle, no worries, can’t see what all
The public address system at almost every dinner venue anywhere in the world is designed to fail just before the speaker gets off his seat.
the fuss is about, anybody can get the attention and interest of two hundred-odd half-p****d blokes and their lovely partners......
“No worries, Pete, she’ll be right. They’re only there for the grog and because there’s probably not much worth watching on the tellie that night.....”
“Last time I heard you speak I thought you were pretty c***p anyway, so nobody’s going to be listening. The committee only agreed to ask you back because they can’t think of anybody better or cheaper.”
“Anyhow, the caterer tells us we have to be prepared to fill in the time after he’s collected the dirty plates and while he gets the ice-cream out of the fridge.”
This last bit is good news. It’s far preferable to the alternative in which students and ham-fisted washers-up click, clank and clunk the crockery just as you are struggling towards your well-prepared conclusion.
So eventually the day arrives. You’ve discovered that the function is a black-tie dinner to mark the 103rd anniversary of the foundation of BAFDA, the Brotherhood of Auditors, Funeral Directors and Accountants. You know it’s going to be a tough gig.
The MC is one of those who thinks their main task is to be funnier than the guest speaker. His attempts to call the guests to order are largely unsuccessful. He’s not realised that microphones are strangely ineffective unless they are reasonably close to the mouth.
Furthermore, as everyone knows, the public address system at almost every dinner venue anywhere in the world is designed to fail just before the speaker gets off his seat.
Just in case those within earshot happen to be listening, the MC will profusely thank all the sponsors, trying not to forget anyone important. By that time he’s forgotten the name of the guest speaker.
He tries to cover himself by using the well-worn “ladies and gentlemen, our guest speaker tonight needs no introduction from me”. He then adds to the horror of it all by telling a joke he heard down at his golf club only last week.
He assures the people on the front tables that, “Our guest speaker is a very funny man and I know you are going to enjoy what he has to say”.
This removes any last chance of success you might still have. You brace yourself for one of those events when no cause is worthy enough to coax you back again.
“Ladies and gentlemen please give a real BAFDA welcome to someone who has travelled a long way to be with us tonight.......”
In truth, it’s often not quite that bad. I probably live just round the corner and I’ll be home in bed by about 10.30. People can always nod off, anyway........