Translator: Rachael Williams
Reviewer: Denise RQ Went to China Town; there were too many bright lights, asked them to dim sum. (Laughter) Thought I'd start with a haiku. (Laughter) Hello, I'm Harry,
and it's nice to be back. I'm about to finish my degree
at the University of Bristol, and so I'd like to share
a couple of poems from that time. This first one is called
"How I fell in love at Freshers' Fair", and I'd like to dedicate it
to the genius in Bristol who opened a late night kebab van
and called it Jason Doner Van. (Laughter) "We locked eyes from across the room. Her smile drew me in like the smell of Jason Doner Van
on a Saturday night. I walk over before I realize
what I'm doing. Heart dancing awkwardly
like Jason Donovan on a Saturday night. They called her Bex,
breathtaking Bex, brilliant Bex; one look, I'm already erect on my neck... the hairs... It's poetic! That's right Bex,
beautiful Bex, brilliant Bex, one look and I'm thinking of sex. She [won't put] on a set theory that states, at this stage,
we can't really define what a set is. But even a naive understanding
of a selection of elements leads to various paradoxes like the set of all sets
couldn't really be a set otherwise it'd have to include itself. And if I said she'd the beauty
of all the women in the world it would lead to a similar contradiction, but if she was a set
she would be fine-ite. Bex. She puts bubbles
in my stomach, like Beck's. Bex, we all agree
that she's attractive like Beck's. I want to send her a text
that ends in an x maybe even a smiley face
so I could pretend that was fun. And as her lips begin to part like crowded lifts with stinky farts she asks, "Have you ever
considered pole dancing?" I tell her, "Not really,
I'm not really that bloke." She said, "Girls love it
when guys come along." I said, "That's a joke. Surely any guy that goes
to Pole-Soc must be a pervert, a confused Eastern European, or both. She maintains it's a great way
to stay in shape, and there's a free taster session
where you can discover your potential. In my head I'm thinking
less LA Fitness, more LA Confidential. By which I mean
the scummy Gentlemen's Club in Ealing not the 1997 Kevin Spacey crime thriller. Either way, I say, "I do not think
I have the arm strength." At which point, a mate chimes in,
"Show him your arms, Bex." Now imagine Popeye, on steroids,
seen through a fisheye lens, but beautiful. And it's the first week of the term
so I didn't have many friends. Well, it's the first week of term
so I didn't have any friends. So it's nice that's someone
that wants to talk to me. Especially when she's pretty. So I carry on this conversation
even though I'm iffy. For every perfectly reasonable question
there is an equally reasonable answer regardless of the the fact
that I'd be the world's worst pole dancer. I ask her if she'll be there. And this is what she said,
"I can give you your own personal lesson." Obviously, I play it cool
like I see all my friends are doing but I am definitely
at this taster session. (Laughter) if only so I'm united with Bex. Oh Bex, bewitching Bex, beguiling Bex, I should have expected
what happened next, bloody Bex. There are 50 people
at this taster session, and I didn't really have to be
a week into my maths degree to work out I was the only boy. (Laughter) And despite all those flirtatious lies
Bex had said to me that's precisely the way it's meant to be
'cause after the third time, the instructor addresses
everyone as "ladies" followed by an apologetic smile
in my direction. I realise I'm about to spend
the next 55 minutes trying to hide my... ...embarrassment. (Laughter) Not only do I stand out because of my stand out
Adam's apple, I am also noticeably terrible which can't be helped by the fact that my palms are sweaty,
knees weak, arms are heavy. There are friction burns
on my calves already. I'm nervous, but on the surface
I look calm and ready to pole dance but I keep on forgetting that I can't. (Laughter) So once again, I jump and swing,
and knees slam into laminate flooring causing even more bruising
of my ego and knees. Bex makes her way over
for that lesson she promised me and whilst I still very much
appreciate her company her comments of,
"I can't believe you actually came!" do little to encourage me. (Laughter) And as the Pole-Soc Social Sec
announces the end of the session any breath that I have left
forms an almighty sigh of relief. Any dreams or delusions
that haven't been crushed yet are soon to be [expelled] She says, "We've got a couple
of socials coming up. Next week there's a joint pub crawl
with the American Football Team. The next month there's the annual
Pole-Soc photo calendar shoot. And as she hands out last year's calendars
of sexy girls in lingerie, I share a look with Bex that says
everything I want to say because my mum brought me up
believing in equality of gender. And as much as I would love for this face
to represent November (Laughter) it's not quite worth
the 15-pound registration fee. (Laughter) Even if it does come
with a free pair of hot pants! So as I make my way to a free meal
put on by the Christian Union, show them my hairless sections of leg, and tell them that Pole Fitness
is a legitimate form of exercise, and it's difficult, I tell myself I need to start
learning to say no to stuff or at least bring a friend
with me next year. Cheers. (Applause) I grew up in London, and one of the best things
about growing up in London is whenever you go anywhere else
it seems very friendly (Laughter) and Bristol was no exception. And the other thing about Bristol
in comparison with London is that it was relatively close
to the beach. It just happens that the beach that it was relatively close to
was Weston-super-Mare. (Laughter) These people have been
to Weston-super-Mare! But term started in September-October. I was really excited, but I thought we should probably wait
till the appropriate time. So this is a poem about
what happened when we did go, and it's called
"Weston-super-Nightmare". (Laughter) Picture the scene: a group of giggling teens. Two on the left and the right, you're in the middle with me,
riddled with glee. So excited, you're worried that the piddle
will be trickling free warming up that back bit of your knee but you hold out;
now very aware that it is cold out and wearing just swimming trunks,
flip-flops, and a t-shirt feels bold now. It looked a lot warmer out the window. But when you're inside it's difficult
to know how the wind blows and right now there's
mini-hurricanes around my shins. So this was the plan: go in, arms out,
maybe get a bit of a tan, and then race across the glistening
sand, flip-flops in hand, and swim about. Bring a towel, be in and out by sunset; then, while it's hot, start drying off,
let everything get un-wet and rewarm. But that ain't how it goes, and so you wish
you could have been prewarned that it's the 25th of February and just 'cause it's the first day
the sun has properly come out in ages that don't change the fact
that it's technically winter, and it's a lot colder than you thought. Even with that towel
around your shoulders for support and that spare pair of trousers
that're now over your shorts, you've just arrived, and you're already wearing all the clothes
you brought, and you are still cold. You realise sometimes,
we do things that are stupid just so we don't feel old. I'm 20 in a couple of weeks. And to remedy this
everybody's come to the beach. There's Vanessa, Rebecca,
Mandala McGregor, Suzie, Sue, James and us, and whatever the weather
we're in it together so why bother making a fuss? Weston-super-Mare
a.k.a. Weston-super-Mud. My foot hits the ground
with the less than super thud; more of a squelch if I'm honest. But I honestly don't care a bit. I'm knee deep in faeces,
I'm very much aware of it, but I'm the type of guy
that likes to see the sights. So as we're beside the seaside
me and Mandy decide we won't leave till we've tried the ocean. Stop motion. Snapshot of us mouths open desperately trying not to swallow mud. Not quite full hippopotamus, but there're bits of sludge
going in and around the lot of us. No concept of worrying about tomorrow,
just wallowing in what's left of today 'cause today is potentially adventurey, and 100% of me, fundamentally believes the fun is meant to be done inventively and whenever and wherever possible. That doesn't mean drunken teens
[vomiting up] and screaming, "Yolo!" That's as a kid thinking,
"How laxative exactly is a pack of Polos?" And actually having
the audacity to find out (Laughter) quite a lot. (Laughter) It's carefully considering
the current consequences and coming to the conclusion of "Why not?" Maybe that's why I almost joined
the pole dancing society at uni, or decided to try rapping
for my German speaking presentation, or ended up stripping
for my German speaking presentation (Laughter) or was one mark off a first
for my German speaking presentation! Or, emerging from the sea
freezing cold and nearly naked, a little part of me
cannot help but feel amazing. Even if, by this point,
one of my flip-flops slipped off, tracky bottoms got so sodden
they had to be ripped off, t-shirt and towel were teasing the tide
and ended up a bit got, so now I'm just in muddy trunks
and fiending for a chip shop. But the guardian of the pier is there
to make sure I stay put. He says, "You cannot come in here,
you might get splinters in your foot." (Laughter) Now, in a West Country accent
you can say anything. It's very difficult to sound menacing. (Laughter) But I realise at this point
this place ain't quite what I thought. There is something inherently creepy
about a seaside resort at night time in the middle of winter. So I think it might be time to go home,
but the next train isn't for three hours, and by that point,
I would definitely be dead. (Laughter) So instead, I valiantly vow
to continue with my quest. Some people want to get rich,
some want to get famous. I just want to get dressed. After getting kicked out of New Look,
which was probably for the best, I'd like to stress, other than death,
I only had one option left and usually my innate fashion sense,
powerful street cred, or inspirational moral fibre
might prevent what happened next, but these are running low
and everywhere is closed, so, "Let's all go to Tesco,
where Harry buys his best clothes, la, la, la, la, na, na, na, na. They sell dressing gowns and flip-flops
I'm desperately in need of na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na." Every little helps! (Laughter) I love the beach,
and I love swimming in the sea. I love having adventures
because I love feeling free. I love people who are up
for stuff and spontaneity. The truth is I love life,
and I love people who love life like me. Sometimes it's for the glory,
sometimes it's for the story, mostly it's because I believe
we weren't made to be ordinary. So, at the end of the day,
what's done is done, and nothing beats fun because fun is fun and stuff is approximately 40%
more fun in a dressing gown. (Laughter) Especially if you're naked underneath. (Laughter) Imagine the fun that you're having,
and then adding the feeling of fleece. (Laughter) Combine that with a cool breeze
and the fact I love feeling free. It is having the audacity
to find out quite a lot. It is carefully considering
the current consequences and coming to the conclusion of "Why not?" Thank you. (Applause)
