[INT: A STAGE.  A MAN IN A WHEELCHAIR WHEELS UP TO THE MIKE STAND.  iT IS FAR TOO HIGH.  HE TUTS AND ADJUSTS THE STAND TO THE CORRECT HEIGHT]

Bloody stage crew!  I told them I was 6 feet 2.

Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. Look, I’m sorry about this. Not really sure what this evening is going to go like. In fact, I’m not really sure what I’m doing here. I’m in a bit of a state, well, you would be too. You see, I’ve just been visited by my Fairy Godmother. She asked what I wanted to do most in the world. I said ‘stand up’ and poof! I was here.

Oh, go on. Don’t be shy. Fill your boots. This is the one and only time in your life that you can laugh at a cripple and not feel guilty.

Sorry, sorry. I said the word ‘cripple’. My wife doesn’t like me describing myself like that. She prefers the term ‘useless twat’. Actually, she called me that before the wheelchair. It’s like she knew I was going to be involved in that freak accident with the ironing board before it happened. Spooky!

People ask me how I can joke about being crippled and be so cheerful all the time, and I tell them to mind their own bloody business. But it’s like my old Dad used to say, ‘Son,’ he’d say, because he could never remember my name. ‘Son, just remember, there’s always someone suffering more than you.’ Because he was blessed with the ability to laugh at the misfortune of others.

But what I like to think he meant was, it’s all relative.

[REACHES BEHIND HIM AND PULLS OUT A CRUTCH FROM THE BACK OF THE WHEELCHAIR]

Take this crutch, for example.

[HE HOLDS IT CAREFULLY UPRIGHT, FOOT RESTING ON THE STAGE. THEN HE RELEASES IT. IT FALLS TO THE GROUND]

Look at that. Bloody useless without me.

[TO WOMAN IN THE FRONT OF THE AUDIENCE]

Love, would you grab my crutch for me?

Thanks. Are you here with a boyfriend? I mean a real one, not an imaginary one. Fancy doing some charity work after the show? [BEAT] Why not? [BEAT] Because I’m married? I think that’s very shallow of you, not having sex with me just because I’m married.

It’s not the wheelchair, then? Because I may be dead from the waist down, love, but I never stop talking. The tongue’s a muscle, just think how pumped it must be.

You wouldn’t believe it, but I’m not very good with women. I start to talk to them and I go all weak in the knees, then I just collapse at their feet. A friend said I had to treat them mean, so I refuse to stand up when the enter the room.

Well, my time is almost up, so I’d like to leave you with a little tip to save time. When crossing a one-way street, you only need to look one way for traffic. Here’s another little tip. If you want to save your legs, look the other way in case there’s a bloody great lorry reversing the wrong way down the street.

Thank you and goodnight