London Ambulance Service's Battle of the Bands Competition

Related to me?

As a comic, one of our initial tasks as performers is to connect to you guys, the audience, to share both emotions and relative ideas and in this first piece of material I’d like to share with you my love for… breathing.

Yes we all need to breathe. Presumably all animals alike, the fish in the sea, the amoeba growing in the primordial soup, all of us require oxygen to live.

And yes, we all love to breathe. It’s so taken for granted considering that love doesn’t always factor into the equation, we all have to breathe or else we perspire, we fall and our life-force will leave our corporial shells to float away in some inter-dimensional existence, if those robe-wearing monks in Tibet are to be believed. But in my head, I do enjoy the art of intaking a lung-full of oxygen and exhaling explosive carbon dioxide into the clear and present atmosphere, that same atmosphere that provides all life on earth with the ozone (I still cringe at the fact that mathematically I have or will breathe in a remnant of Hitler’s farts).

I even love the moments when I hestitate, the times when I need to hold my breath in anticipation of that big reveal that eventually comes, or the shock that you get when you realize that what you were hoping…actually happens.

Like that last episode of Friends when Ross listens to the message Rachel left on the answering machine when she’s trying to leave the plane, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but I need to get off the plane, ok? I need to tell someone I love them!”

The stewardess says, “Miss, I can’t let you off the plane.”

And Ross screams at his machine, “Let her off the plane!”

Rachel responds, “Oh please miss, you don’t understand!”

And when the message cuts off, Ross leaps to his feet, yells at the top of his voice, “No! No! Oh my God! Did she get off the plane? Did she get off the plane?”

And at that moment, you wait, hoping that with the power of your own mind you change the outcome so positively that nothing else matters. Eventually then, you hear this little voice, stage right, that fulfills that wish, and that line is:

“I got off the plane.”

So, who likes farting?