Friday, 30 December 2016

Miandad

This story begins with a boy, me, more precisely.

I asked my Mum when she first realised I was 'funny', she thought about it for a long time and then told me the tale of a 1 and a bit year old still largely unable to talk who was watching the cricket on Grandma's knee.

Pakistan were playing and one of the greatest players of all time was at the crease, Javed Miandad. That his last name included almost the full breadth of my vocabulary at the time apparently brought quite a chuckle, how funny it was that the player's last name be "Me and Dad".

You could call me addicted to laughter, at the very least susceptible to its charms.. "crushing hard" the kids might say, except they probably wouldn't, maybe "I is sick in the head for funny yeah bruv". Kids.

And I have tried to ignore it, put it down to personality rather than passion, but right now I'm sitting in London.. an awfully long way from home in New Zealand. Not because like so many Kiwis I am enamoured with the fatherland, I'm not. Not because I like big cities, I don't. But because this place of all places is my best chance to make a living being funny and I just can't ignore that desire any more.

So here I am. Flying in the face of common sense or financial stability, personal relationships or family, leaving behind all the good graces of a country people call 'God's own', to be here. Now.

Let's go back a bit and find out how I got.. here.



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