Phew! Something smells funny in here -
like a mixed metaphor.
Last night I joined a throng of parents
at the Linder Auditorium for our sons’ speech day. I approach speech days with
much the same sense of inevitable tedium I did at school. Ours took place on
Saturdays under a marquee that smelt ghastly with an ambient temperature of
hell. Nothing like as swanky as the Linder Auditorium.
We all duly queued in clasping our
Blackberries, IPhones and IPads like comfort blankets. Some of the more
experienced dads had a helpful hip flask. It was my first time. The dad I sat
next too gave me some helpful pointers, like at which point to leave.
It started true to form with some rather
nice speeches from the headmaster, the chairman and the graduating class of grade
7s. The keynote speaker was then introduced. I probably shouldn’t mention his
name. He has a voice like melted chocolate and is
obviously much in thrall to its melodic sounds.
If he had ended at the 20 minute mark we
would have clapped loudly and said, “What a lovely speech with just the right
mix of humour and wisdom.” But he
didn’t.
He led a round of applause for all the
grade 7 boys who had their first kiss at the recent school social. That was a
little odd, but we clapped.
He went on to explain how these young
teenagers will soon become enamoured by the subtle dips, curves and valleys of
the female form. How the mysterious female will befuddle the brain and confuse
the senses.
And then...
How as more and more attention is given to the female of the
species with no relief in sight, they will find themselves often “shaking the
hand of the unemployed”.
I turned to my neighbour and asked, “Did
he just say what I though he said?”
Apparently he did.
The auditorium was silent expect for the
mildly hysterical giggling of myself and my neighbour.
The speaker carried on
past the realm of slightly inappropriate into totally X-Rated.
The speaker’s son was in the audience as
one of the graduating class. I shared my sympathy for him with my neighbour and
we agreed that the poor chap should not come to school for the remainder of the
term and maybe transfer somewhere else next year. No-one is likely to let him
forget the day his dad stood in front the school and talked about masturbating.
Like our kids aren’t embarrassed enough
by us already?
Once the horse was well and truly dead
it was flogged a bit more and only when a small toddler finally began to yell,
was the speech wrapped up with a bit of Rudyard Kipling. Can’t go wrong with
Kipling.
My son also won an award.
I was
speechless.
But, not as speechless as when he came
out of the auditorium and asked me what “shaking the hand of the unemployed”
meant.
