An|weisen - To Instruct

I’m possibly the worst person to instruct anyone in doing pretty much anything. If I had a special power, it’d be Super-Inept Verbal Communication, with a minor in unjustified mid-sentence first-letter capitalisation. I find it difficult to explain anything, from that hilarious exchange with a Peter Sutcliffe look-alike in Tesco Metro, to the plot of that really clever Jonathan Creek episode where the killer time-shifted his murder by cuing up a CD recording of a struggle taking place to play two hours later, but somehow (Mr Creek deduces precisely why when she answers “yes” to the “Do you buy your fish food at the market?” question) an old woman hears the CD in her sleep the night before the offing and convinces herself she can see the future. If that made any sort of sense textually, then hooray! But to get a feel for my spoken-word account, just divide that written comprehension factor by about thirty two. Then down eight pints of Best and a bottle of Cilit Bang. I’m not kidding. Well maybe a little - I am aiming for slightly funny after all. So don’t try drinking Cilit Bang - instead ask yourself, What Would Barry Scott Do? and you’ll be fine, if not still very drunk and confused. So anyway, getting back on tenuous point, even the simplest of descriptive or explanatory things I struggle to get out, like a fat kid from a swimming pool. I’ll open my mouth to comment on a situation without thinking of the inarticulate mess that’ll inevitably follow. After committing to a story I shit myself and usually look for an easy out, like “Actually it’s really uninteresting,” or “Look out! There’s a massive fucking spider!” This works less effectively when there are no spiders or I’ve introduced it enthusiastically by saying “Oooh! An even more crazy thing happened to me this time…” Balls. A Chronologically muddled and disordered heap of monologued turd almost always results, casting an awkward silence someone will invariably break with talk of last night’s TV or girls with big tits.

So (and I’m getting closer to the point of this piece than ever before), when it came to showing the newbie projectionist at work our basic operational procedures and explaining why we do certain things, I felt the same uneasy awkwardness I get with any public speaking. Even though I was talking about a subject I knew very well, I sounded like a bumbling, incompetent idiot. Boohoo. Super-Inept Verbal Communication with a minor in unjustified mid-sentence first-letter capitalisation really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Now, as I’ve reached a particularly sorry and depressing conclusion, there’s clearly no way of ending this entry on an even slightly funny note. Instead I’ll simply say Tits To It All and be done with it.