I’ve never entered a writing competition before, but a few weeks ago I came across a 1000 word short story contest being run by Barrington Green. I needed a break from my work-in-progress, so I took some time out to dash off something in a totally different style. I didn’t win, but I made the shortlist. Hurrah. More importantly, I returned to my novel with renewed vigour, having got some jokes out of my system.
Here it is.
What’s in a name?
Jim wiped clammy hands on his trousers and fixed his eyes on the clock to avoid catching anyone’s eye. Even after six months, this bit was so hard. ‘The longer trousers didn’t stop people sniggering, so I just do my best to ignore them.’
Jim sat down heavily and the girl next to him squeezed his hand.
‘Well done, Jim!’ said the group leader, leaping to her feet and nodding encouragingly. Barely into her forties, Jo’s easy-iron dress added at least ten years, but you couldn’t fault her enthusiasm for the cause.
A tall thin man in an ill-fitting suit pushed back his chair, metal legs screeching against the school hall parquet. ‘My name is –’ he stopped abruptly and looked apologetically at Jo, a crimson flush creeping up his neck.
‘A brave start, Cliff,’ she said, ‘let’s try again next week.’
Cliff nodded earnestly and sat down, wiping his brow with his sleeve.
‘Now,’ said Jo, brightly, ‘let’s hear from one of our ladies.’ Scanning the room, her eyes fell on a plump woman in a yellow dress, a wide red belt dividing her neatly in two. ‘Vicky?’
The woman nodded and stood up. ‘My name is Victoria Sponge,’ she said, breathing a sigh of relief, now the worst was over.
There was a ripple of applause.
‘I’ve been coming to the Comedy Name Support Group for two years.’ She looked around the room and smiled at a stocky man in baggy combats, who scowled at his shoelaces as though they’d offended him. ‘Like most of us here, it’s the jokes that get to me, especially when I’m actually,’ Victoria faltered, ‘eating cake’. She took a deep breath. ‘But knowing I’ve got this group, well, it keeps me going.’
There was a collective ‘ah’ of appreciation as Victoria sat down.
The door opened and in strode a dark-haired man in a checked shirt and jeans. ‘Sorry to barge in, but I saw the sign and thought I’d pop my head round. I’m Ben Dover.’ He gave a mock bow.
‘Hello, Ben,’ Jo swept forward and grasped Ben’s hand firmly, ‘I run this little group, and you’re most welcome.’
‘Ah, your name’s on the door,’ Ben grinned, ‘you must be Jo King.’
Jo winced imperceptibly. ‘Ben,’ she said gently, ‘here we focus on the person, not the name.’ She ushered him to a free chair next to a pretty redhead and smiled around the room. ‘Let’s hear from our newbie, shall we? Hugh, why don’t you start by telling us your full name?’
The man in the baggy combats continued to glare at his shoelaces, speaking in a low growl the others had to strain to hear. ‘Hugh Janus.’
‘Brilliant!’ Ben guffawed, bouncing on his chair. ‘That is superb, mate!’
Victoria looked at Jo nervously.
Hugh transferred his scowl to Ben, rising slowly from his seat. ‘Are ye taking the piss?’
Jo leapt between them and placed a soothing hand on Hugh’s arm. ‘Do carry on, Mr Janus.’
He sank back onto his chair, casting a suspicious look at Ben. ‘Ye can laugh all ye want, but it’s nae funny tae me,’ he said. ‘And as fer ye wimmin,’ he jabbed a finger towards the female members of the group, ‘it’s alright fer ye – ye can get married!’
‘That doesn’t necessarily help,’ came a soft voice from the far side of the circle. ‘I’m Crystal Maize,’ she proffered, ‘my maiden name was Ball.’
Ben snorted, and his pretty neighbour stifled a giggle. She leant towards him as Jo began to scrawl coping strategies on the board. ‘I’m Eileen Dinn,’ she whispered.
‘Great name!’ Ben said, with a chuckle, and she grinned back.
‘Do you really think so?’
Jo shot them a disapproving look. ‘Next week,’ she said, ‘we’ll hear from ex group-member Phil McCavity, now living in Hull under the name Mark Jones.’
‘Poor bloke,’ said Ben. ‘Fancy having to change your name.’
‘I’d change mine if I were brave enough,’ said Cliff.
‘And me,’ muttered the girl next to Jim.
Jo nodded understandingly. ‘I’ve got some fact sheets here which might help,’ she began, but Ben cut in.
‘Surely we should be celebrating our names, not hiding them?’