When I was 6
I was first to put my hand up for the Nativity play. First to audition. So certain was I that I'd get the part of the Virgin Mary, I'd already chosen which tea towel I wanted my mam to put aside, ready for my big day. And then?

I was chosen. Mary? No. Chosen to be, above all things, a fucking SHEEP. No bastarding lines in the entire play. The girl who was chosen to be Mary got her comeuppance though. Not only did 6 year old me discreetly flick bogies at her during rehearsals, but when the day itself came she forgot her lines. And CRIED. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
(judeski walked on water and ran through fire, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 21:09, Reply)

In Primary School
I was the lame man that Jesus made all better. Problem was, at crunch time I forgot the blanket to cover my legs. So I legged it off to grab it, of course forgetting that I was crippled. Here's to christmas miracles.
(The Blue Brony Flogging a Dead Horse Since, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 21:09, Reply)

My son's first nativity play aged 4 and a bit .
All the characters wore vest and pants with a tabard denoting who they were supposed to be. My lad was second shepherd and was so nervous that he spent the entire play with his hand down the front of his pants. His slightly shamefaced mother in the audience spent the entire play miming taking hands out of pants. Someone somewhere has a video of the entire thing.
( The Cat's Mother Not a People Person., Fri 27 Mar 2009, 20:42, Reply)

The Triangle
I was in Year One, and had been given the monumentally important task of playing the triangle in in my primary schools Christmas Play. I was so keen that I hit the triangle too early on several occasions throughout the rehearsals, and was thus demoted into the choir.

I am ashamed of this to this day - how difficult is it to play the triangle FFS?
(insert username here, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 20:15, Reply)

Again, uniquely qualified
The play called for a snake-charmer act. And so, I was chosen to play the snake. Oh, all right then, two snakes, called 'lefty' and 'righty'.

I sat in a bin, facing away from the audience, arms painted with stage make-up to look like... well, two arms covered in stage make-up, and waved them about roughly in time to the music.

Woo.

My parents must have wiped away tears at my stage début. Oh, and one night, some kid shouted "They're not snakes! That's someone's arms!" In a shocking preview of my current bitter and twisted personality, I remember thinking something along the lines of "Yeah, kid, I know".

I did stage lighting after that.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 19:05, Reply)

"It wouldn't be appropriate"
I went to a Roman Catholic school for a while. I'll tell some of the stories about it someday.

Every year they did a "Passion Play". Basically, for those who don't know, it depicts how Jesus Christ is supposed to have suffered at the hands of the Romans. Think "The Passion Of The Christ" only with teenagers.

For some utterly unknown reason, the play included a scene on a desert island. Populated by "funny-coloured natives". Now, a little known but true fact about me (and my brother) is that we're dual heritage, making me a sort of 'cafe au lait' colour. A shoo-in, you say?

Not likely. They told me that it 'wasn't appropriate' for me to play a funny coloured native (despite actually being one) and they painted some good Catholic boys black. Shame they all had blue eyes and three of them had ginger hair.

So, the answer is 'nothing, despite being suited for the role'.

Of course, I also escaped being an altar boy, something I'm quite glad about.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 18:55, 3 replies)

I once played an Indian...
In a school version of Annie Get Your Gun, (I have no idea why I was chosen to play one, I looked nothing like one), and my costume involved me being shirtless and wearing a pair of jeans. The rehearsals went fine, with everyone getting to know their respective parts, and it seemed nothing could go wrong.

Until opening night, that is.

The play started well, and everyone played their part well, then, with about 5 minutes to go to the interval, my time came. Bounding onto the stage to deliver my lines (I only had 2 lines to deliver), I managed to lose my footing, and proceeded to skid across the stage and slide off the front and land in the front row, right in the lap of the Mayor and his wife. I couldn't move, as I was laughing too hard, as were the majority of the audience. The headteacher however was completely aghast, and proceeded to frogmarch me out of the hall telling me that I'd never represent the school at anything again.

I however, was more worried about the injuries I'd picked up, the shirtless slide across the stage had caused me to get a massive friction burn on my chest.

Length. Must have been at least 2 feet long.
(Code of Post lives at the moment in time that is..., Fri 27 Mar 2009, 18:09, Reply)

Cry babies
Haha I remember one nativity play were about five or six of the girl actors would suddenly burt into tears when it was their turn to speak.

I think only girl managed to get through the play confidently. Better than that though, a fat girl actually fell off the stage and then started yelling.

Imagine watching the fucking thing. Haha... The teacher filling in every other line and forcing embarassing rounds of applause every two minutes and then CRASH....

Great days.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 18:04, 1 reply)

Still traumatized nearly 40 years later...
My school had annual Christmas shows, and, at age 6, I was chosen to play "i" in Christmas, which involved walking from the back of the stage to the front through a crowd of students and reciting what the letter "i" represented. I was an extremely shy child, so getting this role was a nightmare come true, and I was very nearsighted and required thick glasses to see a few inches beyond my face. The big night arrived and, as I was about to step on stage, the play manager removed my glasses, probably so I would look cuter. Large audience + bright lights + terrified, nearly blind child = failure. I got lost in the crowd onstage, who (demonstrating true Christmas spirit) pushed and shoved me to the front, complaining loudly. I couldn't see where the stage ended so nearly fell off ("r" saved me by grabbing my arm), then I forgot my lines. Stood there silent as wood. After several awkward minutes, a teacher finally recited my lines, and they moved on to "s". You know how, when you're a kid, your parents are supposed to say "good job" or some other encouraging nonsense, even when you totally f**k up? Mine said nothing. No pictures were taken, we left immediately after the show rather than staying for the pot luck supper, we drove home in complete silence ... except for my sobbing in the back seat, the event was never, ever mentioned again. Almost 40 years later, I still remember it as perhaps THE worst, most humiliating moment of my life. But I know my lines.
(bunnybutt, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 17:47, Reply)

Not so much a play, but...
When I was in Primary 1 (so 5 years old), we had a kind of Christmas party that all the parents came along to and I can't remember exactly what went on, except that we did a version of the 12 days of Christmas, with 12 of us doing a day each, and we all did the partridge in a pear tree bit. For some reason I was gifted the hardest day - day 5.

It was all fine, until the 11 pipers piping, because when Simon T (who I think may have been expelled for paying other boys at school 2p to show him their willies) had done his line, he immediately turned to his left and shouted "COME ON THEN" at whoever was doing 10 lords a leaping. By the time it got to 5 gold rings, I was kind of having a giggling fit, so I laughed my way through "fiii-hiiive, goo-ho-ho-ho-hold rings".

I found this lack of professionalism highly embarrassing, and as a result I started to cry. Sadly, there were still the 12 drummers drumming to be announced, and as such I followed up my 5 laughing rings with a collection of noises indicating the anguish of a child way out of his artistic depth.

The headteacher had the cheek to move from the performance to the next item with "the many sounds of primary one there, and so...", and I've always remembered this for some reason too. Perhaps it's because my brother has reminded me of it every Christmas for the last 25 years or so.

Poor me from 1982.
(CeeDas is going back to lurking where it's safe, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 17:37, 1 reply)

I was lucky...
When I got a scholarship to Grammar School, the whole xmas play thing fell by the wayside. Unless, of course you wanted to get involved in drama. I did.

One of the productions we had in my lower 6th was a play written by my (sadly missed) head of drama. It was an adaptation of Out of Africa, but with a steamy love interest thrown in. Oh yes. The reason it needed a steamy love interest is because no fucker can understand the book otherwise, and it needed some kind of plot to keep it together. Personally, I think it was so that the head of drama could watch teenage boys prance around wearing loincloths.

Anyway, I digress.

I was playing Blixen, the main protagonist. He falls in love with a girl from the Kikuyu tribe. Obviously, their love was forbidden, and they had to keep their furious games of hide the sausage under wraps. Sex with natives was a big no-no.

In this play, life imitated art. The girl who was playing the Kikuyu woman who I was supposed to fall in love with was, quite frankly, stunning. I mean, even though I later changed teams she was gorgeous. And she clearly had a thing for me too. As I found on the first night.

One particular scene, I was supposed to hold her close to me in an embrace as the lights dimmed. As the curtain fell, she squeezed my cock through my safari pants and whispered "Carrot, my Dad's in the audience but I've got his car keys. Fancy some fun?"

Hell yeah. His Dad drove a vintage Jaguar. Absolutely gorgeous car. Anyway, we got onto the back seat, where she proceeded to expertly fellate me. We did this every night during the production, including on the last night, when young Carrot lost his virginity. Spluff.

And that is my story of

Native E-type lays.

*Awaits spanging*
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Fri 27 Mar 2009, 16:13, 9 replies)

I think I was confusing it with 'A Christmas Carol'
It turns out that Jud Suss isn't about a miser who learns the true meaning of Christmas. But they liked it anyway - it was a Catholic school.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 16:13, 1 reply)

Accidental Racist Christmas Nativity
In my first year of primary school we were all told that for our christmas play, we'd be having a global celebration of christmas/kwanzaa/etc., which meant different acts with each act representing a country/ethnic group.

So far, so good, and you may be thinking that this all sounds par for the course in a modern school, trying to do it's best at catering to everyone. Only this wasn't a modern school, this was a small school, in a small town, 25 years ago, where the ethnic variation was more vanilla than neopolitan.

It was this combination of attempted good heartedness and slightly confused racial views, that led to me and some of my classmates representing the "chinese" with a rather colourful tunic, a lamp shade, a little skin yellowing make up and a bit of eye liner to give me slanted eyes. I am seriously not exaggerating any of this, I was just one set of comedy buck teeth away from Peter Ustinov at his best.

The other racial groups didn't get off any easier either, all of the "arabs" had tea towels and all of the "africans" had long-grass skirts.

At the time it all appeared perfectly acceptable, and it wasn't until a very long time later that I had cause to remember it and realise just how bad it was, even at the time.

The only real plus side to it is that the teachers at least had the good sense not to use blackface on anybody.

Length? Three choruses of "Christmas Calypso"
(ShiftyBastard won the World Cup on World Soccer Champs 2010!, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 16:05, Reply)

As a wee flim-flam...
...I was gently forced to participate in a variety of dodgy school plays, I played Mary one year in a nativity play (and dropped baby Jesus on his head) and a robin in another Christmas play, this basically involved me prancing around in a brown pair of cords trousers with a brown top and a red circle of felt stapled to my top - classy stuff you’ll agree. Anyhoo the best play came one Christmas, I think I was around 10 and the idea surfaced that doing a nativity play was a bit *done* so all the teachers sat in a room, presumably smoked a lot of pot and came up with the following:

Aliens were attacking the Earth. At Christmas time. Their leader was painted green and housed in a compost bin which had been delivered to our school the week before. The poor boy resembled a rather demented Dalek and was wheeled around the stage with reckless abandonment by his fellow aliens who were also painted green and wearing rather fetching bin bag outfits with paper cone long green fingernails. I should at this point mention that this play was created on a budget, just in case you hadn’t noticed that for yourself!

So yes, where was I? ALIENS! Whilst the aliens attacked and sang songs (as far as I can remember) all hell ensued. Many small children were running around dressed as firemen and policemen and general public, all in a muddle forgetting lines and freaking out.

What, I hear you ask, could make this better? Of course, you know the answer already. A rap.

At this point, me and 5 other kids stroll onto the stage wearing baseball caps (backwards!) with jeans and oversized t-shirts, behaving pretty bad-ass - well as bad-ass as 10 year old kids from a small town in Cambridgeshire know how to be, anyway. Two weeks before the play, there had been a competition to write a rap that we could bust out in an attempt to beat the aliens. At the time, I watched a lot of Fresh Prince of Bel Air and, inspired by the spirit of William Smith, I went and bloody won it! Sadly, the lyrics have been lost over the years – but that might be for the best. I’m not sure I would have made the Fresh Prince proud.

So there we go, aliens attacked the Earth, rappers warned them off with a rap and then I think it snowed and the aliens got colds and fucked off.

The next year they went back to the normal nativity play. (We did not do a Jesus rap.)
(Flim-Flam the Magnificent "You is talking loco and I like it!", Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:54, Reply)

B3ta Nativity play, Act 1
Scene: classroom, B3ta Grant Maintained Primary School. Pasta and glitter glue CDCs adorn the walls. The teacher, Mr chthonic, is discussing the forthcoming nativity play.

Mr chthonic: (soothingly) Okay. Now, let's see... Pooflake, you've been very good this year. Consistent performance, just as expected. Right, you can be Joseph.

Pooflake: Woo!

SpankyHanky: But sir! Sir! That's not fair! I got loads of Best Ofs.

Mr chthonic: Sorry Spanky, but Joseph is a very responsible post. We need a reliable type like Pooflake in that role. You can be the Innkeeper.

(Pooflake belms beams.)

SpankyHanky: (huffily) I don't want to be the Innkeeper. I want to do Mary

Mr chthonic: What was that Spanky?

SpankyHanky: I said, who is going to be Mary?

CHCB: Oh, can I be Mary, sir, can I?

Mr chthonic: No, CHCB. Mary was a Virgin. The Bible is quite clear on that.

Enzyme: Actually, sir, that's a mistranslation-

Mr chthonic: (abruptly) yes, thank you Enzyme. At the risk of typecasting, you can be a Wise Man. BGB will play Mary.

(BGB pokes her tongue out at CHCB.)

Mr chthonic: The other two Wise Men are Sexmonkey and althegeordie. We need to keep them away from the goats so they can't be shepherds. Don't let them stand next to each other. Apeloverage is a shepherd. It's a non-speaking role so we should be safe from punnage. Rakky, chickenlady and rachelswipe are angels. I've got you down as the Archangel Gabriel, PJM, but if you utter a word about unmarried mothers on benefits, I'll have your life. Everyone else is a sheep or a donkey. CHCB, you can be the narrator.

CHCB: (bitterly) I'm always the narrator.

Mr chthonic: your Norn Irish accent puts the fear of god into the others. That seems fitting.
(Claps hands) Right! Rehersals start tomorrow. Spanky, stop pulling BGB's hair or I'll send you to the Headmaster. Remember what happened last time you went to see Mr Rob? Yes, well, not another word out of you.


(Act 2 is here)

( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:49, 55 replies)

CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON & THE WHEELCHAIR KID
During the Autum term a new kid started at my school.

I recall the headmaster introducing him to us in assembly. There was a muted exchange of words between all the little shits, sitting cross legged on the polished floor.

"Now, this is Colin - he's just moved from Wolverhampton with his family. I know we'll all do what we can to make him fit in," said Mr Ozier, the head. "Would anyone like to ask any questions about Colin?"

A few hands shot up.

Obviously, the entire concept of raising my hand and waiting to be asked to respond was as alien to me as washing is to an Armenian.

"Why's he sat in that chair with wheels on?" I shout.

"Because he's disabled, Spanky," says Mr Ozier.

There's a few more hushed conversations amoung the assembled shits.

"Can I have a chair like that too?"

"No, you can't," comes the sharp reply.

And with that Colin is inducted into our little world. Later that term it gets round to planning for the Christmas play. After the whole Nelson Mandella debarcle the previous year I knew my chances of a good part were fucking zero. So I sat at the back of the class and fumed while all the other people got the plum roles. We were doing some sort of Dickens inspired bastardisation of the Nativity this year. It was the Nativity meets Scrooge - all they fucking weird to an eight year old.

To make matters worse Colin was cast as the old miser. Colin was a quiet kid, very well spoken (for someone from Wolverhampton, anyway), and he tended to keep himself to himself. When he got the lead role I was angry. Angry because he'd only got it on account of being a weird loner who couldn't fucking walk (I really was a nasty little shit when I was a kid).

But I hit on an idea.

"Mrs Facey," I ask my teacher. "Colin's going to find it hard to move round and act - can I push him round to make it easier for him? I could wear all black so no one can see me!"

Mrs Facey looks at me slightly dubiously. "Thats... a... good... idea... Spanky..." and the poor woman sounded genuinly shocked, as if she needed a nice stiff whiskey.

Ha! I thought. I get to dress up as a ninja and no one fucking realises it! Result!

We go through rehersals, me pushing quiet Colin round in his wheelchair. Its dull, its boring, its also fucking hardwork for an eight year old. And through all the rehersals my resentment towards the lad from Wolverhampton with the wonky body grows.

I'm very quietly seething away inside.

On the big day everyones in costume. I'm pretending to kill my mates ninja-style off to the side of the stage, decked out head to foot in black with a black balaclava covering my face.

Mrs Facey grabs me, reminds me she doesn't want a repeat of the Nelson Mandella incident, and positions me behind Colin. And we go out on stage.

The play is going fine. Colin is actually doing really well. He makes a very good West-Midlands Scrooge. Fuck this, I think. This fucker's getting all the attention.

As my raging hatred starts to boil, I start to push Colin round the stage with more and more venom. He starts bouncing round as if he's driving a formula 1 car.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, Mrs Facey's arm is round my waist and she's lifting me out the way. It turns out Colin was on the verge of tears. The cunt in the ninja outfit was fucking up his big day.

I scream: "Noooooo!!!" As Mrs Facey lifts me off the stage and plonks me down in the wings.

Colin, to his credit, starts to get his act together - he didn't really need me to push him round, it was just my way of being involved in the production in some way. Colin lets out a little sniffle and starts with his lines.

Until, off stage an itinerant little shit screams:

"THERE WERN'T ANY DALEKS IN THE OLD DAYS!!!"

Then Colin just loses it, and I find myself whisked even further away to sit in a dark room and think about how much of an evil little cunt I was.



If you're reading this, I'm sorry, Colin -




but I bet I could still beat you in the 100 meters dash.



( SpankyHanky, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:47, 4 replies)

When I was 5
my class were to be the shepherds and the sheep. We were each allowed to choose which. This resulted in 27 shepherds looking after 2 sheep.
(HarryTheMole whatever's on my finger is going in your mouth, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:41, Reply)

How about piano recitals?
When I was about nine I took piano lessons. I had to stay after school to do my practice, as my parents were hardly wealthy enough to own one... but I enjoyed the time alone after school with the piano anyway. I was certainly in no hurry to go home.

I had been taking lessons for the entire school year and had gotten reasonably good at it, for someone who had only been playing for about eight months. I was quite proud of my abilities, and would happily play for my teacher.

Then she told me of the upcoming piano recital. All of the parents would be there.

I looked forward to this in the same way that one looks forward to appearing in court. The very thought of performing in front of my parents gave me a lump of limestone in my belly... but they were expected to be there. So I told my mum, who then passed the word to my father.

The recital was on a Friday. I put on my best clothes, such as they were, and was seated in the front with the other students. I could feel my parents' presence behind me, but didn't turn to look. Finally it was my turn.

I rose, went to the piano in the front and played my piece flawlessly. My teacher beamed at me when I was finished, and the polite applause was a gentle wave of relief that swept through me. I got up and turned to go to my seat, and as I did I saw my parents get to their feet. Mum gestured for me to follow, so I got my coat and went with them.

It turned out that Dad was missing his football game on television and was impatient to get back.

I've not played piano since.
(Shimrod, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:30, 4 replies)

rameses the pharoah in The Ten Plagues
was my finest hour.I was very into egypt at the time and decided to go the whole hog as far as historical authenticity was concerned.
Imagine a slightly pudgy,effeminate ten-year old boy with a thick layer of eyeliner to accentuate his eyes,finished off with rouge on each eyelid,stripped to the waist and wearing a long loincloth of 'former tablecloth' linen,a papier-mache ruff with painted macaroni gemstones,a ceremonial hat two foot in length (complete with paper snake) and genuine startrite sandals.
It was proud day for me.years later i resurrected the costume for a toga party and got laid by a Cleopatra!Result.
(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:14, Reply)

i only ever got 2 roles
One was a plebian in Julius Caesar (I literally sat there during the whole play; a 7 year old extra), the other was myself in a play called "All About Me", which strangely enough starred the whole class playing themselves.

How come all the kids who got the lead roles in plays at my school were:

a) fugly
b) obnoxious
c) into horses

...and went on to become:

a) overweight
b) obnoxious
c) parents at 16

Well, I work in I.T. now so the jokes on them.
( valoukh newsgash.wordpress.com, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:00, Reply)

Wasn't a nativity
but a school 'talent' show.

I had to play the famous tune 'Mr Macnamara (The Leader of the Band)' on the tambourine.

Pissed myself and cried but struggled on to the end.

Aah, sixth form, I miss it.
(Waspard has your wank bank account details, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 14:54, 5 replies)

.........................
Junior school, many many many years ago, no idea
what play, 3 lads in tshirt and pants getting
moustaches painted on faces by one of the
teachers. Cue all the girls in the play coming
in to get their costumes and see some pants!

Some of them saw my pants off too :( but that's
another story.
(Underpants, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 14:49, 3 replies)

Delete as appropriate
I was a tree/sheep/rock/eskimo/dancing walrus I wore a dress/sheet/large piece of cardboard, I cried/hit somebody/pissed myself/was really embarassed by my costume, my teacher/parents were proud/shocked/angry.

Shall we move on?
(Banjax, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 14:42, 3 replies)

fuuuuuccckkk.
i voted for THIS
www.b3ta.com/questions/questionsyoudliketoask/post393437
and we got THIS?What a fucking orange tictac.
(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Fri 27 Mar 2009, 14:41, 1 reply)

Shame and Rabbits...
For some unknown reason I liked doing am-dram when I was a kid/teenager :there's not much to do in rural north Worcestershire when you're tired of smoking fags and drinking cider in the park. Hence I appeared in some of Hagley's finest dramatic productions. Being the token "fat kid" I turned A Christmas Carol into a comedy by playing Scrooge's supposedly frail little sister in the flashback to Xmas past scene. When the Ghost of Xmas Past uttered the line, "Such a frail, dear little thing" the whole of Hagley Community Centre pissed itself laughing. Even my parents. Nice.
Other amusing Nativity related anecdotes involve my mum's class rabbit escaping from its hutch, hiding under the stage then chewing through the lighting cables during the Nativity, leading the deputy head to shout, "That fucking rabbit!" in front of a bemused group of primary school kids....apologies for length.
(SpongyMonkey is an honorary East Anglian on, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 14:30, 2 replies)

The very pinnacle of my stage career...
...'third cow' in our school nativity. It beat being 'eighth slave' in the production of 'Joseph' the following year.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 14:29, Reply)

to all the naysayers
who complain about every Question of the Week: I think this is a good one.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 14:25, 7 replies)

Is there any room at your Inn?
Yeah!! Come in, there's LOADS of space back here!
(MrOli is ugly, but in the morning you will be sober, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 13:59, 2 replies)

What'china Do?
I once played a Chinaman in our nativity for Chinese Xmas/New Year, or whatever the fuck it is.

My part comprised of me shuffling my feet and shuffling round a Cot with a kanckered chewed baby in it.

My hat then fell off. I then cried.

Mrs Crawford took me off the stage, I wee'd in my pants then I went to Kevin McDonalds for Spaghetti and Chips and we watched Sooty.

The fucking mute twat
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 13:58, 2 replies)