Life and Laughing_ My Story - Michael McIntyre [98]
Since Kitty had told me she loved me in Villa Bianca, we had not spent a night apart. When we first got together, she said to me, ‘This is it, you know, I’ll be with you for ever, you’re the one.’ As happy as I was, I couldn’t really believe her. But she was true to her word; she loved me like I loved her and after a couple of years of living together, I withdrew the last of my savings and found myself browsing rings in Tiffany. I knew she wanted to get married. You know what girls are like – she would drop occasional hints, like whenever I bought her flowers, she would throw them over her head.
My proposal formed the basis of my first big comedy routine. So before I tell you the story, here’s me opening the show at Jongleurs Leeds, Cardiff, Bristol, Oxford, Portsmouth, Southampton, Glasgow, Nottingham, Birmingham or Manchester, week in, week out:
I’m engaged, ladies and gentlemen. I bought her a beautiful diamond ring that cost me a fortune. But you’ll like this, I had it engraved … with the price.
I got her a Tiffany ring, and I think she was more excited about that than us spending the rest of our lives together. She was like, ‘I can’t believe it! It’s Tiffany! Is it really? Is it really a Tiffany ring?’
‘Of course it is,’ I said. ‘Look, it’s a Tiffany box, it’s a Tiffany ring,’ I replied.
‘Yes, but you could have just got a Tiffany box and put a shit ring in it’ and I was like … ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’
Girls get hypnotized by diamonds – it’s like they turn into Gollum from The Lord of the Rings: ‘Precious. Master, give me precious. Precious is mine.’ You look outside any jeweller’s and you’ll see single girls staring in the window saying, ‘Soon, precious will be mine.’
I took her to a lovely Italian restaurant to propose. I was so nervous; this is a major moment. I got the ring out and said, as if in slow motion, ‘Will … you … marry … me?’
And she was like, ‘Michael, start again.’
‘What do you mean, start again?’ I said.
‘Start again and do it right, you have to get down on one knee,’ she said.
‘Hang on a minute, you’re not directing this scene, I’m proposing, this is how I’m doing it.’
‘Michael, stop, I have been waiting my whole life for this moment, it’s romantic, it’s traditional, you have to get down on one knee.’
‘Now listen,’ I said, ‘I have just spent the equivalent of a small car on this diamond ring, why don’t you get down on YOUR knee?’
That was more or less my joke, and it always got a big laugh. It’s not what happened of course. I’m not that rude. The only truth was that I did buy her a Tiffany ring. I suppose the shock of the price inspired the routine. I did also take her to an Italian restaurant, Villa Bianca, her favourite, where she finally succumbed to my two-year harassment. I envisaged this to be the perfect romantic setting to pop the question. If Kitty suspected anything, she didn’t let on. We were just going out for dinner. I was naturally tense, I wanted to get it right, for it to be perfect. I booked the same table that we sat at before. I thought I would ‘pop’ the question at the end of dinner. I had a whole speech planned in my mind that I was going to launch into after dessert. But after we ordered, I was struggling to make normal conversation as my mind was preoccupied with the proposal and constantly checking that the most expensive thing I had ever bought was still in my back pocket.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Kitty said, sternly.
‘Nothing,’ I said, defensively.
‘You’re acting really weird, really rude. You’re not really listening to me.’
‘Sorry, what did you say?’ I said, fidgeting with my pocket again.
‘You’re not even listening to me now are you?’ she snapped.
‘What?’ I said, with a blank expression.
‘Why don’t we go home, Michael? What’s the point in going out to dinner, if you’re not going to talk to me or listen to me?’
We were in danger of having a row. This wasn’t the plan. I realized I had to change the plan, I had to propose now before we fell