Life and Laughing_ My Story - Michael McIntyre [71]
‘What do you do here?’ somebody shouted at me.
‘Well, nothing now, I’ve just resigned,’ I said then, cool as a cucumber. I beeped open Pete’s double-parked Mercedes, jumped in it and sped off.
I was exhilarated by my latest joke and told everybody in the office. Pete summoned me and told me in no uncertain terms that what I had done was very funny, but if it came back to him and Partizan in any way, he would have to fire me. I nervously watched the news that night, but nothing was on it. My job was safe, I could continue with my reign of mischief.
One reign that was about to come to an inevitable end was that of my Triumph Spitfire. My car struggled to stop in perfect driving conditions, so when snow and ice entered the equation, there was little hope. Driving home from work in wintry conditions, I applied the brake and skidded serenely. While skidding, I couldn’t remember the advice I had been given; was it to brake, not brake, pump the brakes? By the time I’d remembered, I’d crashed into a parked Volvo Limousine.
I have honestly never seen a Volvo Limousine before or since. Volvos are renowned for their strength and limousines are renowned for being long. So it was hard for me to avoid this long strong car. The result was that my car crumpled into an unsalvageable heap, offering no resistance whatsoever. It was almost as if the car committed suicide, like it had been waiting for the right car to crash into and spotting a Volvo Limousine was too much to resist. I was unhurt, as was the Volvo. I may not have remembered the skidding rules, but I did remember being told that if you’re involved in an accident, do not accept responsibility. The fact that the car I crashed into was unoccupied didn’t seem to affect my denial of blame.
The limo was parked directly outside its owner’s house on West End Lane in West Hampstead. He heard the impact and came rushing outside.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he cried.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I said, leaping out of my wreckage.
‘Have you been drinking?’ he accused me.
‘Have you been drinking?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but I’m having dinner with my family. Are you insane? I’m allowed to drink and eat. Have you been drinking and driving?’
We exchanged details, he returned to his dinner and I awaited rescue. I had lost my car, but I had another funny story to add to my expanding repertoire. The next morning when I went to Partizan, I wasn’t depressed to be on the bus. I couldn’t wait to tell Zelda and everyone else how I’d hit the only Volvo Limousine ever made and blamed it on a man who was eating dinner at the time. The story got big laughs and that made me happy.
Making people laugh made me happy.
15
As my ‘gap year’ neared its end, I had no idea what my next move would be. ‘Clearing’ is a process whereby universities advertise places they still have available and the grades you need to be considered. So I found all the courses that accepted A-Level grades of C, C and D and they tended to be at former polytechnics or working as a janitor or security guard at one of the more prestigious universities.
Then, surprisingly, I found a course at Edinburgh University that only required C, C and D at A-Level. Edinburgh is a top-notch seat of learning. I’m not really sure what the course was; I know it was either Biology or Chemistry or maybe a bit of both. All I knew is that after a few phone calls I was accepted. I was off to Edinburgh.
I packed up my belongings and, after an emotional farewell, I left home. I was fleeing the nest and heading to a student flat where I would be living with two unknown flatmates. When I arrived, they were already there. We said hello awkwardly, like at the beginning of Big Brother. It was immediately obvious that my new flatmates were partial to smoking marijuana. One of them was wearing clothes