I got to take part in a rather special event this morning. I had been invited to be part of something called "The Write Club" at a school in Southall in which an enterprising teacher called Chloe had gathered together various successful writers to share their secrets (if any) with the pupils. There were some impressive journalists and novelists there, not least of which was Nick Hornby, who I was personally delighted to meet. I wish I could have sat in on his group and learned some of his secrets, but I had instead to listen to myself droning on about comedy and trying to encourage some young lads to write some jokes of their own.
It is an initiative that I was very pleased to be a part of and I was flattered to be in such esteemed company, but it was all the more enjoyable to be a part of because this was not some posh public school with limitless resources and pupils with a sense of entitlement, but a comprehensive school with kids who might not be aware that writing was a career. Although we probably got to see the cleverer and less disruptive kids on a day like this, I was impressed by the enthusiasm and politeness of the youngsters. Some of them were a bit too nervous to suggest incidents from their own lives that might make for good comedy routines (and it took me until my late 30s before I really overcame the self-consciousness that allowed me to turn my major humiliations into humorous anecdotes), but they all had a crack at thinking of jokes or observations, even if even the more outgoing kids clammed up a bit when it came to delivering the material. But who can blame them for that? Most adults would be filled with terror with such an exercise and most professional comedians would baulk at writing and performing a routine in 30 minutes. In the end the three small groups I worked with did fantastically well, in different ways with the task in hand.
There were a couple of question and answer sessions and I was asked what I would have done if I wasn't a comedian and I said I'd be a teacher like my family, pointing out that the two jobs weren't that different, except a teacher would get into trouble if they slept with a member of their audience. This made the teachers laugh at least. Later, in front of all the kids who had taken part, I managed to find 5 minutes of material that were suitable for the occasion (luckily I had some stuff about school from the Headmaster's Son) and then there was a final Q and A session. One of the kids asked me, "When did you discover that you were quite funny?" Which made everyone laugh more than anything I had said and prompted me to say that I was clearly not as funny as him, even after twenty years in the job. He meant it nicely I am sure, although the understatement was more telling than even the best heckles I have received in all those years. I thought I was really funny all this time and now I know I am only quite funny. But it will have to do.
Though I am sure some of the kids saw this as a good excuse to get away from lessons for a little while, I think some of them were really inspired by it all. It must have been a nightmare to organise and get this all pulled together and I have massive admiration for Chloe for achieving this, as well as for all teachers, because even after just two or three hours the hard-bitten war journalists and political spin doctors and novelists seemed wiped out by the searching questions of these young people.
A reminder, if I needed one, of how cushy and fortunate my life is. But also what can be achieved by anyone if they can sit down and put one word next to another in a pleasing enough fashion.
