Thanks very much to everyone who entered my Moranthology competition. In the grand tradition of Caitlin Moran’s embarrassing stories, you shared some truly cringeworthy moments in your lives. As she came with me to the book launch (and therefore already has a copy of the book herself), I asked Amanda to choose who should win. After much thought, she decided that public nudity and humiliation in front of an audience is probably about as embarrassing as you can get. So, the winners are… Jade and Allie! I’ll be in touch to get your postal addresses so that the publisher can send your books to you directly.
During my first year of Uni, I went to a cocktail bar with some friends. It was having some kind of soul/jazz/other sophisticated kind of music night, so I was attempting to demonstrate that I, on occasion, could too be sophisticated. I was doing this quite successfully by drinking cocktails out of ridiculous tiny glasses (and avoiding the hearty Tequila Sunrise, which came in a pint glass and looked like value for money) and by not going to the toilet ever, so that it wouldn’t be obvious that, in heels, I walk like I’ve got skis strapped on.
However, after too many Barbie-sized cocktails, I remembered that I knew an artist who might be considered soul. Or jazz. Or something sophisticated. He wasn’t a cool, obscure musician that I could chat about for hours (I only had his Best Of album, which I’d pinched off my Dad) but I could go up to the DJ, quietly request the song (Let’s Stay Together by Al Green, that isn’t the embarassing climax), and hopefully an amazing song would come on next and everyone would attribute it to me and they’d go, ‘Wow, she is the queen of sophistication’ and I would go, ‘A-thank you, a-thank you’ and tip my glass at them. The plan made far more sense at the time than it does now.
So I lurched over, on my skis, leaned in, and whispered my request to the DJ. He stared at me quite intensely, so obviously I assumed that my beauty was so bewitching, and my song choice so excellent, that he was lost for words. I actually smiled at him, sexily (drunkenly), and flapped my eyes around a bit. Then I realised the music had stopped. My boobs had fallen out of my dress and onto the record. My boobs had stopped the music. In the whole bar. And everybody was now staring at me. Except for my table of friends, who were laughing so hard that each had gone a different shade of purple and one had his inhaler out.
The DJ, God bless his soul, did not break eye contact with me but instead calmly peeled the record from my breasts, placed the record back on the turntable, and carried on like normal. I don’t really remember the rest of the night, probably because I actually died of embarrassment and my ghost had to carry on with the evening instead. And also because of the cocktails
When I was 16, I was a very avid thespian, and I took advantage of any chance I got to do a bit of acting. One day, as part of my classes, I was scheduled to take part in two little class performances, playing a male role in both. I thought it was a fantastic idea to bind my chest, but the best I had to do it with was an Ace Bandage (something used to support joint sprains usually). So I did my hack job binding, donned a froofy silk shirt and went with it.
The first skit (in which I played Lysander) went without a hitch, but by the time I reached the second skit, I noticed that my Ace Bandage wasn’t staying in place quite as well as I’d hoped. I didn’t have time to check it though before I went on as Greek stud Adonis. As according to the script, Persephone and Aphrodite fought over me, each taking an arm and pulling back and forth….until suddenly the buttons of my shirt were flying everywhere. I looked down to see that, given the sad state of my bindings, I was pretty much standing bare chested to the whole room. The whole class, including the teacher (who was video taping this, I might add) burst into hysterics, while I hastily closed my shirt and asked to be excused for technical difficulties. I quickly realized that there was no salvaging the shirt, so I acted out the rest of the skit desperately holding my shirt closed. I got an enthusiastic round of applause.