5024/17944
If I was Keith Vaz, every time I came on someone I'd say, "You've been Vaz-jazzled". I'd rock at being Keith Vaz.
No wait, I'd say you've been Vaz-jizzled. Damn.
But then I would probably have to say - you know, like vajazzled.
So wait, I'd actually say, "You've be vaz-jazzled, or should I say Vaz-jizzled?...... by the way my surname is Vaz, that's quite important.
So wait, I'd say, "Hi, I'm Keith Vaz", then I'd hold on my finger for person to wait for punchline. Masturbate to orgasm. Come on them.
This might take some time as Keith is middle-aged. Then once that was done. I'd say "You've been Vaz-jazzled. (wait for laugh) or should I say "Vaz-jizzled". (wait for bigger laugh). You remember my surname was Vaz, right. Just it took me a while to come.
So wait, no, I'd come in, not say a word, start masturbating. Then when I sensed ejaculation was imminent I'd say, "I'm Keith Vaz".
Then I would come on them and say "You've been vaz-jazzled... or should I say Vaz-jizzled... you were cool with my masturbating over you right?"
No wait, I'd come in and say, “Are you cool with me, someone you don't know the surname of yet, masturbating over you?" then once I had consent, then I'd do the rest of the joke. Leave on big laugh after vaz-jizzled. Though if they didn't laugh I'd say jizz is a colloquialism for semen.
So I'd come in and say, "Are you aware of what jizz and vajazzling are?…” No that's not sexy. I'd email them in advance with definitions. And then do all the other stuff, then leave on a big laugh. And I don't have to make them come too because I am paying them.
I just wish I was Keith Vaz. That's all I am saying.
As it is Keith Vaz has let down the noble band of Keiths with his behaviour. Paying gay escorts. The rest of us Keiths (middle name Keiths are included) would have used the gay escorts and run off without paying. Not really, we are an honourable lot. e.g., Although loads of Keiths have been murdered (like way more than you’d expect from such an uncommon name), no one called Keith has ever killed anyone. Google it. You’ll see I am right. I just worry for Keith Allen. How must he have felt when he heard the news of Keith Vaz’s indiscretion. He must have had to stop waving his cock around, put it back in his trousers and said, “Keith, why have you made us all look so sleazy?”
We saw Amy Schumer at the O2 tonight. She was really good. Funny and filthy (and though I enjoy the ironic ditziness, I like to see a few more of the bits where she discusses something with her obviously fierce intelligence). I’d paid A LOT of money for seats near the front (because after a few visits to the O2 I have decided that there’s no point in going if you’re just watching it all on the screen) and when the night started with an experimental jazz trio (apparently it’s her brother’s band, but that’s still a big chance to take as an opening gambit at a comedy night). I like words, not music and if I am going to get music, I probably don’t want it to be experimental jazz. Parts of it were so discordant and odd and each “separate” tune so similar to by admittedly untrained and uninterested and annoyed ear, that I did wonder if it was just an elaborate joke. Let’s see if we can get to a point where we perform in front of 10,000 people and I just blow at random into this saxophone.
There were then some clips from the TV show, which made me worry it as going to be a night of filler, but that was just to get the instruments off the stage. Once the stand up began with a very strong support act and then immediately Amy herself (no interval - again an odd choice as the show ran at over two hours and Amy did about 90). Funny, confident, sexy as Hell (though I am led to understand that men find those things intimidating, not sexy - you certainly see enough of those pricks hiding behind anonymity on the internet, but surely anyone who goes outside and is sociable likes people who are funny and confident and finds them attractive and admirable). Someone had warned me that her set was short, but if anything it was a little long (for one sitting, after some ear-bending jazz). There was an odd warning not to talk or heckle or take photos. But at the end Amy said it was OK to take photos, which I think was a mistake as it was distracting and took me back into the (massive) room. I’d say either let them do photos at the start or just don’t allow photos. No one seemed that bothered. I took one just cos it seemed rude not to. But look how rubbish it is.
Warning people not to heckle - especially in a room where you’re not going to be able to hear anyone more than 20 ft away. Seems weird. I don’t want people to heckle me, cos it’s mainly rubbish and disruptive. But to forbid it? On pain of ejection?
Hmmm.
Good night out and it was 100 days since I gave up drinking (though I ended up drinking on 3 nights) so I had a pint of beer that I struggled to drink. You know it was OK. But I can't say I've been missing it.
