There are certain things in life that don't mix; Nitroglycerine and Epilepsy, Sword swallowing and the hiccups, Solitaire and Schizophrenia, to name a few.
One other thing that doesn't mix well is my sense of enjoyment and the good idea department of my brain. Yet again the combination of these has led me to disaster.
Last night, I went out with friends to a local comedy night. There were three comedians and a compere - all of which were very good. We were sat behind the front row of tables, which afforded us the luxury of not being picked on by any of the acts on stage. The compere picked on a few people, but we were safe.
There was a break between each comedian for people to get more drinks or spend a penny, and it was during one of these breaks that the trouble started.
Me and my mate were late walking back to our table due to the number of people queuing for the toilet. Our route back took us right past the front of the stage - where the compere was warming the crowd up for the next act. As I walked past level with him, he said something (i forget what) to me. My respone - and I don't know why - was to reach up and pretend to tickle his testicles. I then carried on and returned to my seat. At the time, tickling the balls of the compere seemed a great idea - I was enjoying myself, I was out with friends, it was all good.
Of course that was it - I was the centre of attention for the next 5 minutes, and was referred to by the compere everytime he came back on stage. To cut a long story short, I came away from that night with the title of "Larry The Ball Tickler".
Naively, I thought that name was only relevant within the confines of the venue. I forgot that many of the people who went to the Comedy night would also go back to the same pub we did afterwards, and that all of them would call me by my new title on sight. So my new name stuck with me last night. How long this will run for, is anybody's guess.
In future, I think I'll keep my ideas, and hands to myself.