Channelling my betters

The other day I dug up a sketch I’d written back in 2000 or so. I’m not 100% certain whether it ever saw the light of day; it’s possible that Tori and I performed it at some point. What’s notable about it is the bit I seem to have bolted onto the front before the sketch gets going. This is fairly high up on the list of sins of sketch writing, as it stops you figuring out what the hell’s going on in the crucial opening few seconds, but even more strange is that it doesn’t sound like my writing at all. If I’d read it in any other context I’d have sworn it was written by John Finnemore:

George Ah, Emily – I was wondering, could you pop in here for a moment?
Emily Certainly, George. Do I have time to put the cat out?
George I would imagine so, Emily. Why don’t you have a go, and I’ll tell you if you’re running out of time.

This occurred to me just now, while walking round Sainsbury’s failing to avoid buying discounted donuts, and it rang a bell. A few weeks ago I was with some friends in the pub, and one of them had to berate me for being macho. Which I’m not. It took me a fraction of second to realise that my uncharacteristic behaviour was pretty much just aping one of Aaron Sorkin’s characters from Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip.

If you notice my doing anything like this in the future, please tell me to stop. I do genuinely have a personality all my own, and it isn’t macho.

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