Seasonal QOTW
oh wait IT'S NOT FUCKING CHRISTMAS TIME YOU FUCKERS.

Yeah I was a sheep har fucking har har.

Seriously if I wanted it to be Christmas 24/7 I'd buy several dogs and dress them up as reindeer, drug my housemate and dress him up as Santa and then get so fucking drunk I'd believe I was actually the Christmas fucking elf here to bring you all a good slice of good will and fucking harmony but seeing as it's MARCH I am bitter and twisted and as such refuse to read any of these fucking dull as shit QOTWs that seem to have not only excluded women in the past weeks penis malarky but now you're discriminating again Jehovah's Witnesses. Way to go asshole they don't get to dress up as mongoids in the plays they have to sit outside and dream about fucking Mrs Claus or something. Probably suck having to go door to door at the North Pole trying to convert elves though.

I diagress. Fuck you QOTW I'm more likely to get fucking Christmas spirit than you are likely to get a decent fucking suggestion from the hundreds of pages of decent fucking suggestions. Sheesh a question just called "Fucking amuse us you fucktards" would be more fucking inventive than this Christmas shit.

So yeah. Fuck off.
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 22:33, 15 replies)

A BRIEF HISTORY OF NATIVITY PLAY VIOLENCE
I absolutely fucking hated Simon Jones.

Why?

Because he was a cunt.

That's why.

Simon Jones was the kid at school who had everything. His glamorous mum would pick him up in her brand new Ford Capri (a fucking flash motor indeed if you grew up in Coventry), he was always the best at sport and was school captain at everything, his teeth were pearly white, his hair immaculate and wavey, and no doubt his shit had the fine fragrance of fucking roses.

I absolutely detested his perfect fucking guts.

And to top things off, Gemma Buckley, my first ever girlfriend at the age of five (a girl who let me look at her bits in the playground, all bald and pink and puckered up like Popeye sucking a lemon), dumped me so she could go out with Simon-twat-features-Jones.

God, even now I want to rip the cunt's head off and shit down the hole.

So, its early December 1981. My teacher, Mrs Facey, explains that we're going to put on a play at the end of the Christmas term. She also explains that she's going to pick who's going to have the best roles.

"Can I be Joseph!?!" I demand.

Mrs Facey ignores me.

"PLEASE!!! I'd be really GOOD!!! I was BORN to be JOSEPH!!!"

Still, she ignores me, she's talking to the entire class, not just young Spanky, she explains. I'm only six, so I take the only reasonable course of action. I storm to my feet, knock over my desk and chair, and pull my pants and trousers down. Then I stand, triumphant, hands on hips, my tiny pink maggot on display for all to see.

Now, this tactic usually got results. But not today. No.

The plum roles were cast. I was fucking livid. Gemma Buckley was going to be Mary, and Simon-cuntface-Jones was Joseph. And I was cast as...

...a fucking squirrel.

A FUCKING SQUIRREL!

And I only had one line: "Jesus, please take these nuts."

Did they even have squirrels in Bethlehem? I shouldn't complain though, my mate Terry was cast as a giraffe.

Anyway, fastfoward several weeks of burning fucking resentment and self pity (the lot of an actor is hard, you know). Its the big night. The PE hall is filled with parents, looking bored, wishing they were in the pub, wondering how long this utter shit would last before they could go home.

Simon-cocking-Jones is playing a stormer. He's acting and looking like Leonardo Di Caprio, the cunt. He has the crowd in raptures strutting round the stage with a tea towel on his head and a beard made out of brown felt strapped to his chisled chin. He looks like a bronzed adonis, a living god.

I'm dressed in a brown leotard with a feather duster as a tale and I've got whiskers drawn on my cheeks in mascara. I look like a fucking twat.

Then its my time, time for my line. I shuffle forward and lob a load of nuts into the baby Jesus' manger.

I take a deep breath, this is my moment, the crowd is mine, and scream at the top of my lungs:

"EAT MY NUTS, JESUS!!!"

And a ripple of chuckling goes out across the audience. Fuck! Did that wrong. I look to the side and see Mrs Facey getting ready to come and take my hand and lead me off stage. So I improvise another line while I've got the spotlight. I hollar:

"HMMMMM-HMMMMM, MY NUTS ARE LOVELY, JESUS!!!"

More chuckles, and then I feel Mrs Facey lifting me up and carting me off stage. Fuck me, that teacher could move faster than Wonder Woman when she had to.

And then we're back to Simon-cock-munching-Jones. Its like he's been performing for the Royal Shakespeare Company for thirty years. And Gemma aka Mary is lapping it up.

I stand at the side of the stage, arms folded across my chest, my bottom lip protruding out a mile. I'm grumbling to myself.

And then the nativity ends, Simon-wanker-Jones takes a bow. And its over.

Oh, apart from the violence...

As my arch nemisis is taking his second bow to raptuous applause, I come up with a genius plan. This will rescue the evening for me.

When Mrs Facey's back's turned I run back on stage, charging along like a large rabid squirrel, and smacked the cunt right in the mouth.

Simon started to cry. Then I started to cry.

The crowd was angry, I could tell. Shit! I've fucked it all up! How the fuck can I win them over???

Well, let me tell you, struggling out of a leotard with a feather duster strapped on the arse so you can stand there, triumphant, hands on hips, while you show a hall full of parents your pink maggot...

...well, its not as easy as it sounds.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 22:27, 8 replies)

Whats that coming over the hill?
I went to a nativity play a couple of years ago, the kids sang a version of The Automatics song monster. The lyrics were changed to "whats that coming over the hill? Is it Jesus? Is it jesus?"
(nina101, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 22:20, 1 reply)

Realism
You've not seen the ultimate in nativity play until you are forced as a 15 year old to sit through your cousins epic performance in the role of Mary.

Mary, who spent 5 minutes 'giving birth' to a doll, using some very realistic and painful sounding noises and alot of panting.

Back then - God knows how an 11 year old knew what the birthing process sounds like - nowadays I suspect they have ante-natal classes before playtime...
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 22:19, Reply)

A Christmas Tree
I went to a very catholic primary school - nuns, priests the whole works.

Which is why my parents were very surprised to find that I'd been cast as 'the christmas tree'.

Now my Bible recollection isn't all that - but I'm pretty sure there wasn't a fir tree in Bethlehem on the night Jesus popped into the world.

More weirdly the costume was two enormous pieces of card, both cut into christmas tree shapes and decorated with glitter. Then on the morning of the event - I had to lie on the floor while being sandwiched by these two pieces of card while the teacher stapled me inside it, with just my feet and a now green painted face sticking out of it.

And then I had to stand there jigging while everyone danced around me... to the sound of Mel Smith and Kim Wilde's Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.

I needed years of therapy after that fateful day....
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 22:13, 2 replies)

Finally, after years of parts as sheep and donkeys
..I was allowed to be an angel. Not only that, I was allowed to carry a big silver star on a pole too. It was every little girl's dream: the white dress, silver tinsel in the hair, glitter... the works.

Unfortunately, as a kid I was prone to nosebleeds, and even more unfortunately about ten seconds before I was due to go on stage I had the horrible, familiar, warm feeling in my nose as blood started to gush from my nostrils, all over the nice white dress my Mum had made from an old bedsheet. Not wanting to miss my moment as an angel, I stepped out on stage holding my star looking more Carrie than Gabriel. There were gasps of horror from the audience, before my hand was quickly grabbed from the side of the stage by "Miss" who dragged me off the stage and took me to the loos to clean me up, tears now mixing with the blood as I was mortified to be missing the play.

The next year I was back to being a sheep again, and I never did get to be Mary. Ever.
(Ariaxen, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 21:38, Reply)

One year...
because our school did a different Nativity story every year, we often had weird and wonderful parts to play. The weirdest one I ever was (and no, I never played a sheep, although I was once a donkey)...

A Hula Dancer.

Yep, i was a Hula Dancer one year due to the messed up plotline we had about an angel finding where Jesus should be born or something, and one of the places was Hawaii.

In retrospect, the entire thing was incredibly stereotypical. 'Japanese' people with tape on their eyes to make them pulled back, and also ponytails made of horse tail hair. 'French' people with onions, berets and stripy shirts. Hawaiian Hula dancers (like me) with grass skirts, beach shorts and lurid t-shirts. All jolly good slightly racist fun!
(General_Manchego, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 21:30, 2 replies)

Never did get to do any plays
Not that I can remember, anyway. I was in a few dance recitals, though, playing snowflakes or shepherdesses or somesuch. In a way, I suppose it's good that I didn't get involved in any school plays because my little sister decided she wanted to be an actress and it became my job to herd her from rehearsal to rehearsal and audition to audition. Musicals. Why did she have to love musicals? To this day, anything by Andrew Lloyd Webber makes me break out in a rash. Still, my sister is a bit of a success these days, so I guess it was worth it!
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:53, Reply)

The Understudy
I was a tree. I didn't want to be a tree. Trees didn't even really need anyone to act them - it was just so all the kids could get on stage.

A couple of days before the play though, the boy who was the Prince (this was Sleeping Beauty) pulled out because other kids were teasing him about wearing tights.

I was offered the role (presumably due to the incredible depth and pathos I'd brought to my 'Tree' during rehearsals).

I knew I'd probably get teased too. I didn't care. I was Prince Charming and I got to prance onto stage in tights and kiss the Princess.

I played it like Olivier... the charm, the wit, the grace, the prancing!

Twenty years later, when I meet friends from home for a pint, I am still referred to as 'Ponce Charming'.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:52, Reply)

I do not do nativity plays
Read the title? Good.

As a firm non-believer that any deity can be its own father without considering the prospects of locking someone in a cellar for 20 years, you could say the Nativity play was a bit of a sham in my juvenile eyes. However, with this 'everyone's a winner' ethos we've been made to endure for the past decade or two, young FoxyBadger ended up with the high point of Biblical roles.

I was a red Indian.

At Christmas.

In Bethlehem.

With Jesus.

Buddah was in the background.

At least the Equality board weren't complaining.

Why was I chosen for such a prolific role you ask? Well, I don't believe in rocking the boat too much when it comes to making people pay attention to me. I tend to stick to the 'shut up and keep to yourself' path of life, but nethertheless was forced a part with one line.

Young Foxy, in his best Charlton Heston frame of mind, was to come on to the stage, say he was here to see the birth of Christ, and then stand in the corner with his cheeks radiating.

Young Foxy's kneecaps, however, had other interests, and decided to buckle upon approaching the stage. The result; a native American headbutting Mary in the face while screaming 'bollocks!'

Every now and then I whip that video out for a chuckle as a gobsmacked 7 year old is bundled off the stage by a bunch of shepards.

Never did get another role after that.

Narf.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:45, 1 reply)

Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam.
In my primary school's radical retelling of the nativity, my brother was asked to take the part of a sunbeam.

Following rehearsals, he was informed he would no longer be required as he was not cheery enough to play said sunbeam.

Kurt Cobain, eat your heart out.
(axlette, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:32, 2 replies)

Oh god no....
I remember, in my primary school there was a distinct heirachy for nativity plays. First off, you have the two kids who play Mary and Joseph. Then, slightly down the rung you get the Angel Gabriel - then the wise men, the shepards and finaly the donkey and animals in the manger. Then you have the slightly strange kid who no-one shares stationary with who gets the all important job of pulling the rope to begin the play, opening the curtains. Way, way below him you get the sheep. Who get one, five second part playing a damn sheep.

Now when I was at school I attended with my younger brother, a year below me. For some (slightly justified) reason the headteacher decided we where basicaly agents of satan. It might have something to do with the time my brother snuck a chicken in, it might be because of the gladiator style fights I used to arrange between the younger years at break, it might even have been because of my young fumbling steps at graffiti. I remember my dad mentioning that we where "still talked about" in the staffroom - just after a parents evening for my sister who also went there, some three years after I left. (looking back on it, I remember feeling quite hard done by.... much more so than I should have).

Anyway, given these various crimes and such- what part did I always get? The damn sheep. And even then I was told off for baa-ing during rehearsal and putting the angel gabriel off his lines. Bastards.
(Fredz A graveyard of hopes, a dump of ambition, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:26, Reply)

Honeslty, 16 year olds can act like twats.
Every week we had a senior assembly. It was done completely without adult intervention to prove that we can be responsible and organised and work in harmony with one another. HA. Each form would have to present a 'piece' on a situation in the news or a current event or some other bollocks that was happening. We had ours at Christmas, yaaay! So quite unoriginally, we decided on the Nativity. Our collective opinion was that if 5 year olds can pull it off then so could we. How wrong we were. We were given around 3 hours to prepare, however, the majority of our precious time was spent twatting about so with about half an hour to go we had only managed to decide the characters and scramble around the infant end of school for props and the such like. We quickly printed off a brief transcript of the Nativity from wikipedia or some other sceptical source and after a quick rehearsal, unfortunately without adult supervision, we were all set :)

I should probably point out that I went to a hardcore Catholic Private school with 99% of the teachers being very religious (one of them was a neo-Catholic whatever that is) so as you can imagine our haphazard production was not about to go down too well….

Well it went a bit down hill from the start when I, Mary to you, making my big entrance, tripped over the piano cover and smacked my head on the stage (Its ok I don’t think anyone noticed). The boy who was playing Joseph had been off ill for a week and missed the rehearsal so he had no idea what the fuck was going on. The three angels had bound their heads, arms and legs together with tinsel and had kitchen roll for wings, they had not trained to maneuver gracefully as one unanimous being so they spent the majority of the time on their arse and we persuaded a boy with ADDH that he really would be quite a good narrator.

Anyway, after riding the length of the audience on a donkey, or Jack as he was called, I arrived at the Inn (cardboard box). We drew the line at a birth reconstruction so I went to place the doll in the manger and I threw it a little bit and missed, which surprisingly was the part that offended most people. I was then greeted by some shepherds... You know them scarves that were all in fashion with the young’uns? The really big checkered ‘terrorist-esq’ ones? Well, basically the Shepherds were wearing those, attempting to look like terrorist sheep herders, brandishing sticks (Id have taken offence to that). The Three Wise Men were rubbish because, ironically, they were the clever, boring people who wanted to take it seriously and quite frankly nearly destroyed the entire production. In the end it didn’t really end, it just stopped because the narrator had read everything, or ran away or whatever and we just stared at everyone until they clapped and left. The whole situation was mighty uncomfortable.

About an hour later we all got a right good seeing to by pretty much every teacher in the vicinity and anything religious was banned from being in the assembly, and the entire thing was scrapped around February the next year, so in my opinion it was an all round success.
(i should have joined myspace, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:17, Reply)

Not me, my brother
I'd always assumed that in a nativity play the biggest part a boy could have would be Joseph, what with him being the dad (sort of, see last week's qotw) of the main guy (who is usually played by a margarine container. What's that about?)

Now, when he was in primary school they gave my little brother the part of Joseph in the play. I went to watch it with my mum and dad seeing as he was the lead and everything.

How many lines do you think they gave him? Most? Some? A few?

Not one bloody word, let alone a whole line!

School plays are weird.
(europe-who, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:16, Reply)

Joseph
With a tea towel on my head... quite liked the girl playing Mary, although the seven-year-old me would never have admitted to that.

Girls.

Ew.
(Capo, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:15, Reply)

My school decided not to do a Nativity one year
and instead decided to do a play that's story appeared to built from the interaction of abstract concepts. I played "Noise" - which in casting terms was the equivalent level to a Shepherd I suppose. But it did mean I got to run around the stage annoying the shit out of the audience with a football rattle. I was about 8 years old. I studied drama at university, but nothing ever really came close to that in terms of pure fun on stage. Simple pleasures.
( brianftang www.brianftang.co.uk, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:11, 1 reply)

Not a nativity play but it was a school christmas play so what more do you want
I was only in a school play once I got a fantastic part, I played, wait for it...

A MENU!

No actually, not a menu THE menu. I even had my own song, which I remember a bit of to this day:

I am the menu
for this venue
and i hope you have a very pleasent stay
I have a hunch
you'll enjoy this lunch
on this very very merry christmas day

I had to wear a large sandwhich board with the specials written on the front and "It sure beats school dinners" on the back, which I seem to remember got a big laugh, (but in retrospect i suspect they were laughing at the twat who was pleased to play a menu). The worst part of this is that I seem to remember I had a comparitiveley large part, as I was accompanied on stage by three sprouts, a turkey and a christmas pudding and each had their own song.

I still feel guilty for making my parents sit through that god awful play.

Length? Probably about an hour, but I'm sure it seemed much longer
(Charlietron Still can't think of anything witty to put here, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:07, Reply)

My Brothers School
Luckily, maybe not for him, my brother went to a school for the blind.
They did amazing plays and all the parents would go and remark on how amazing these children (some with severe disabilities) were. However I was a heartless teenager with a taste for the darker side of humour.
My parents would ask every year would I like to go and watch and I would say "yes" as I would like to support my brother.
But I wasn’t there supporting my brother.....
I was there to witness some of the funniest things I have ever seen.

Young Children not counting their steps and flying off the front of the stage (into the crash mats they have put there expectantly).

Children singing follow the star and pointing in different directions.

Children walking into sets.

Children facing the wrong way.

Children dressed as various animals just going awol round the stage. (These tended to be the ones with more than just sight issues)

It was brilliant and my proud parents recorded the whole thing on video to watch again. Fun times.
(Muggybonehead95, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 20:01, 4 replies)

I was blessed with the role of Clara
in the kindergarten production of The Nutcracker. I did a pretty good job, apart from intentionally stomping on the toes of the prince when I danced with him (he was my first crush). Oh, and when I was supposed to be pretending to sleep I was in fact turning my head to the side and attempting to stealth-pick my nose. It's all on video.

The year before I had been The Cow in our version of The Friendly Beasts - my costume consisted of a brown balaclava with felt ears glued to it and a brown bedsheet cape with spots painted on. It was pretty scary looking. In the same play I was an angel in a choir robe, halo made of an aluminum pie tin with the middle cut out and wrapped in tinsel. The wings were made of two coat hangers taped together and also wrapped in tinsel. ITCHY.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 19:48, Reply)

Ahh, plays..
At primary school I was renowned for being a pretty good actor, so I would usually get one of the main parts (if not the main one) in the years' production. (Incidentally, I am a failed child actor, after no-one hired me for any major roles, HA!)

The school plays were generally quite fun, as one of the teachers had a habit of sticking contemporary/cool musical numbers in plays (Hamlet was good fun at the time with everyone singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' after our mad Dutchman kills Polonius).

One Christmas, with only the plot and major scenes written by the teachers, the students were given the chance to co-write their own story. In this play I was given the part of the main cultist villain who poses as an OFSTED inspector to invade the school, whilst capturing the attractive girls and making everyone suffer until I get ousted and blown up by the play's heroes.

I think it was the choice of characters that only recently have I truly become worried about what kind of environment I was educated in:

My character was dressed in big white altar boy vestments, the hood spiked up by a peculiar cone; I didn't look cultist, I looked like a fucking KKKlansman.

The worst part? My character name.

David Koresh.

What The Fuck?

Did anyone else have a christmas play that involved David Koresh as a Ku Klux Klansman invading a primary school and kidnapping the girls, only to get murdered by the A-Team?


Length? Messianic.
(Lythium deals in lead, my friend., Thu 26 Mar 2009, 19:13, 1 reply)

Oh god, don't make me remember this
At primary school, we had a nativity show every year, in which every child had a part - in a school of 50 kids, that wasn't too bad, but it meant that I ended up as a sulking angel every year, as did both my sisters, whilst my brother went from sheep to donkey to sheep again depending on which teacher was doing the casting. It was normally shite, tuneless, and badly produced by the frumpy bints who spent the rest of the year shrieking at us about spelling and projects (whilst managing to fit in some borderline racism directed at the 1 black kid, and the few of us who had the temerity not to have broad glaswegian accents).

I'd somehow managed to block the bastard thing out of my memory, but a few years ago, a friend decided we should sit down together and watch a video her dad had made of the show when she and I were in our final year, and our various siblings were scattered through the ranks.

It started well (the video wouldn't start), but sadly someone got it working. 50 children, the majority of them with thick glaswegian accents, screeching their way through 'silent night', 'oh little town of Bethlehem' and 'Come all ye faithful', is not a pretty sound - imagine 50 cats dragging their claws across a burning blackboard, and you'll be close to the cacophany. One child kept wandering off stage left (sadly not being attacked by a bear), another had his finger rammed so far up his nose you could see a lump in his skull, two of the older kids kept trying to push eachother off the stage. However, what really seared the horror into my memory, was Mary W., a child from, shall we say, a slightly rough background, sitting at the front of the stage with her skirt thrown up, and her hands strumming on her knickers, little naked fanny shown to the whole school.

My friend's father has now destroyed the video, lest the police ever raid his home and find it by accident.

Oh, and apparently Mary W (who must be 25 by now) is in a secure mental facility, whilst her 2 children live with their respective fathers.

I'm looking forward to the day I can see my child in his or her first school play already...
( ascorbate, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 19:01, Reply)

Straying a little bit here...
I do have something to share on Nativity scenes in general, at least.

We all know the traditional Nativity scene, right? Joseph and Mary and the three Wise Men and various shepherds standing around a feed trough looking at what seems to be a 40 watt light bulb.

Apparently in Catalan they also have another figure: the caganer. (A better picture of him can be found here.)

I'm waiting to take part in a live Nativity scene one year, just so I can take on this role... I mean, who wouldn't want to lay an enormous poo next to the manger?

EDIT: You can even get George Bush and Gordon Brown caganers, ffs. I think I've found the thing that I need to collect. Check out the various ones you can get!
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:59, 9 replies)

Hooray, I actually have something to contribute!
I was in a few school plays. Right up until secondary school, where they always did musicals. Sadly, I am so horrendously off-key that I couldn't even make the chorus, which irked me no end.

At first school, I was usually cast as one of the Three Wise Men, which doesn't do much for a girl's self confidence - looking back, I realise it was because I was tall and had the deepest voice in the school.

There was one where for some reason we had some sort of rainbow theme. I was yellow, which meant dressing up in a bright yellow hula girl outfit, complete with yellow crepe paper skirt. Before going on, we were all stapled into our skirts - however, one day, I was at the back of the line and the teacher got distracted before she got to me, so my skirt was never stapled. I tried to get her attention again, but I was always the shy and quiet type and didn't get the message across.

Up comes our lilty, Hawai'ian style song and I'm reluctantly thrust onto the stage. Naturally, I keep my hands firmly on my hips - the teacher is by the stage frantically making waving motions with her arms to try and prompt me to do the moves. Pah. You can see what's coming next. I join in with the moves, the skirt drops to my feet and I'm left hula-ing in my baggy old flowery knickers in front of everyone. Not quite Bucks Fizz.
( useful_idiot, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:55, Reply)

Be still my beating heart
I really fancied this girl at school but she had a boyfriend. They were given the leading roles in the school's production of Romeo and Juliet whereas I was given the lighting job. I'd learnt the whole play off by heart hoping for a chance to get a part just so that I could be close to her.

One day they had a bitter row and he walked out not just on her but on the play aswell. The drama teacher was horrified, the opening night was only two days away.

"I can do it" I offered. A few sniggers came from the assembled cast. "Don't be ridiculous Stopme, how are you going to learn the role in two days?" she asked. I thrust the script into her hand, "I already have, test me".

And so I was given the role and got to snog the best looking girl in school, oh hang on, I went to an all boys school. Damn.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:48, Reply)

I'm not bitter...
Growing up in a small village naturally I attended the small village school, full of small-minded bigoted teachers... i wasn't taught by someone who didn't have white skin until secondary school.

Now what's interesting about the final school play i was in (Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Book") is the stereotyping... most of it racial.

My rather rotund friend Adam was given the part of Baloo the bear because of his bear-like size and love of honey.

An Effeminate tosser called Joe was Kaa the snake because of his high voice.

A seehk fella by the name of Hardeep was given the much coveted part of Mowgli (Which wasn't shared with another child!), and this was based on the cold hard fact that he had 8 years worth of hair hanging from his head and was undoubtedly from asia!

Lastly King Louie (The Orangutan King of the Monkeys) was given to a tit I Despised called Ore... he was from africa...

Now my part was Father Wolf and to keep me shut up about the shitty size of it i was told that i was the most important character because if it weren't for me then i wouldn't have found an abandoned mowgli and none of the play would have happened...

Now i realise it was a sugar coated way of saying you haven't a likeness to a good jungle character so deal with it.

Racist shitewanks!
(ganglegoose is cruisin' mos espa, in my delorean, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:45, Reply)

Oh my days... my Primary School
We did many of these... and I dont mean one or two, it was about 3 a YEAR!

I don't remember many of them as I much preffered doing all the 'behind the scenes' stuff, but the ones I remember...

1. A camal leader in Joseph
2. Backing singer also in Joseph
3. Person who moves props to front of stage (Joseph)
4. Tax collecter in the Nativity (I fell on stage, but I made it funny by shouting at the person I was chasing [I was 'chasing' them anyway] "And if you make me fall again, I'll put you in bloody prison!" Bless my 9 year old mind...)
4. 6th child in Trig Trog (I had 8 words... still forgot them)


[The teacher didn't approve of number 4, but I was a hero for abotu a week, until the novelty of swearing wore off]
(one-winged-angel-616 isn't as depressed as she sounds, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:40, Reply)

Not me, but my parents.
My Dad was playing Moses at their church production. They got to the burning bush scene, and a very feminine voice came from nowhere telling my dad to remove his shoes. Dad's thinking, "Boy that voice is REALLY familiar."

Turns out God was out sick that day, and my Mom was filling in.

She'd spent 40 years ordering Dad around, and now it's gone to her head.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:36, Reply)

Bastards. I did mine last week.
www.b3ta.com/questions/god/post390722
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:35, 1 reply)

The director was a cunt.
I was in the Crucible (I had one line: "The deputy governor has arrived, sir.") in high school. To help advertise the play, the director insisted that we wear our costumes to school the day of opening night.

Problem was, that was the day the recruiter from the university I wanted to attend was visiting the school.

The director wouldn't budge, and the recruiter did a good job biting his tongue when I walked in wearing poorly made 1690s clothing.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:30, Reply)

My Nana told me, when I was a little kid, that when you die you go to be an angel.
So naturally, to me angel = dead person.

This later caused me problems at my kids' infant school, as I dreaded any of my kids being chosen as angels because it seemed like tempting fate.

Like, what if they looked so good as angels that they DIED. Just like that.

Luckily my kids were never chosen but it was always hard for me not to rush the stage and 'save' the little angel-kids by ripping off their wings and haloes, wailing 'For the love of God, can't you people see how DANGEROUS this is?'
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 18:29, Reply)