Why does nobody understand my David Brent impression?

A wise man once said “A good idea is a good idea forever.” Back in the sixth form, my parroting of Ricky Gervais’ timeless comedy creation, David Brent, was going down a storm.

Now I’ve been trying to bring the Brent to Bristol. So far however, my impressions have fallen on deaf ears – and this should be a source of alarm.

Don’t worry, I’m not going around calling myself “The Mongboy” in an attempt to make friends: there is a certain weight of intellect behind my comedy.

Take the recent Falstaff Society 50 Shades furore, in which the planned trip to see the ghastly film triggered a Facebook argument on the event page, with many complaints regarding the film’s supposed endorsement of abusive relationships and perhaps even rape culture.

Amongst the increasingly reactionary comments, one “chilled-out entertainer” decided to comment a link to Brent’s outrageous riposte “I THINK THERE’S BEEN A RAPE UP THERE!”

I’m available for motivational speaking conferences

The comment received one measly like – and that was from my sister. Dumbfounded, I felt that the audience didn’t perhaps get the joke and I was going to lay down a link to Brent’s “…Women are dirty…” remark, but realised that might be a sure-fire way to get the gender police on my case.

However, it’s not just in the virtual realm that my Brent gags are falling flat. In Bunker, when I whipped out a fusion of flash-dance and MC Hammer shit, instead of the fellow revellers cheering me on, I was met with one guy threatening me with a beating.

I answered back with “Yeah, against karate?”, but he’d already moved away. Shame. Truth be told, it’s not looking good on the ladies front either, despite one girl actually offering to buy me a drink in Syndicate recently.

Instead of acting like a normal person and requesting a shot, I gestured to some random fellas and slurred “Me – lager, Finchy – lager, Gareth – lager, sometimes cider. Different drinks for different needs…”

She never did end up buying me that pint, so if anyone knows who she is, sling me her number.

I’m sure Texas couldn’t run and manage a successful paper merchants. I couldn’t do what-, well, I could do what they do, and I think they knew that, even back then. Probably what spurred them on

Moreover, a girlfriend (not like that!) in halls happened to ask what I look for in the opposite sex. My answer of “trust, loyalty, reward, encouragement, satisfaction…. Not sexual!” was met with confusion and general discomfort.

She went down in my estimation that day. As far as I can see, there are two possibilities as to the lack of interest in “The Brentmeister General”. Either people haven’t seen The Office, or they have and they didn’t find it funny.

Admittedly, the first possibility is easier to deal with; you just make them watch The Office. The second possibility is far more menacing, as it suggests an inherent sense of humour failure.

It’s like when someone says they think The Office US is better than Gervais’ original gem – they’re just wrong! It’s not a subjective matter, they’re just wrong. Like most things wrong with the world, one could argue that the blame lies with the onset of #Badockculture.

I find it hard to imagine that the Ellesse sweatshirt-wearing, greasy top-knot sporting, tab-taking monkeys that seem to live outside the ASS library would have much time for Sir David.

They may not all be in Badock, but I’m going to assume they are. It seems fitting to end on some wisdom from “the big man” himself and as usual, he has an answer to my feelings of dejection:

“If you want the rainbow, you’ve got to put up with the rain. D’you know which ‘philosopher’ said that? Dolly Parton… And people say she’s just a big pair of tits!”