How to improve your presentation skills – By @CharlesHueWill1

By Charles Hue Williams


How to improve your presentation skills


SCA is great at opening you up to new experiences. From innovative school routes to a singing penis, you’re definitely exposed to items that you’d never have guessed pre-starting. 

Our newest experience is one to benefit presentation skills and although it makes perfect sense, I never thought I’d be covering it at ad school. That experience is stand up comedy. We participate in routine building exercises on a weekly basis, culminating in a final performance. ‘Comedy club’, you think it would be a laugh, right? Well it’s actually a surprisingly nerve racking experience. 

The reason it puts you on edge, is because it asks you to be you. To play off your truths in the hope they’ll amuse others. This consists of putting yourself out there. A mind set we should maintain going into every pitch. 

The first task at comedy school was to recount an embarrassing story, in which you end up, the butt of the joke. So in the practice of putting myself out there…here we go! 

Back at Uni, for my second year, I lived with seven girls. It was a good group and as you could imagine, we’d share stories and gossip…and cosmetic routines. Well on one particular occasion at least. It was early on in the year and the girls hatched a plan to rid me of my curse like back hair. After silver failed, they decided to proceed with the weapon of wax strip. A tool which, up until this point, I was unfamiliar with. After convincing me that this was the only course of action and a guaranteed plan to get me laid, I decided to proceed with their wishes. The first strip came down, as my hairs rose to meet the ominous chill of impending anguish. Pinned down, a firm female grip on each limb. Finally after a graceful press, the first lashing occurred as the strip was ripped upward. In hindsight, I’m not sure why I made such a fuss but at the time it was a completely new experience. I was told I couldn’t quit and it was onto the next. Second strike came hard and fast, in a brand new area to the previous war zone. I felt myself beginning to crumble but thought we must be nearly there. The third strike however delivered a fatal blow, a whip crack went the crooked strip and the beast was done. I was nowhere near completion and had no intention of continuing, think ‘Forty Year Old Virgin’, so I threw in the towel. To be honest, by this point the pain had shattered my ego and I was reminded that my chances of getting laid were back to slim. 

The night quickly rolled round and I put my game face on, hitting the town with my posse. It was a huge success, I got loads of female attention…from all my housemates. The romance never came but the drinks made up for that. We stumbled home and I headed straight to the kitchen to prepare a feast. After twenty minutes of fumbling around, achieving nothing, there was a knock at the door. None of my housemates responded, so I went to investigate. I opened the door to have Lucy burst past me. Bear in mind I didn’t know she was Lucy at this point. She strolled up the stairs to be confronted by one of my more fearful housemates, who marched her straight back down. It turned out that Lucy lived next door and had got the wrong house but on realisation, she decided to stick around and hang. Picture an impromptu first date at the bottom of the stairs. She had packaged ham and cheese fresh from the twenty four hour Tesco. I had 

no bread, so we shared ham and cheese straight from the hands. Once we’d filled our bellies I offered to walk her home, but I never made it back to mine. 

My recollection reappeared when I woke up in the morning. I had a little reminder of why I was there and then decided to make a start on the day. Got dressed and headed for the door, but there was one problem…I couldn’t find my top. I looked and looked but it was nowhere in sight. By this point I’d followed Lucy to the door and suddenly something dawned on me. Now sober, I was exposed to the mental picture of how my back would look when I began my walk of shame. The thought of the MOMA masterpiece, that is, the pioneering cubist movement on my back, being drenched in crisp morning rays. This image may sound culturally stimulating, but I assure you, in my mind it was going to be horrifying. 

I therefore proceeded to take action, circling round her via a hug and proceeding to exit the property backward. I awkwardly moonwalked my way down her path, waving as I went. Then crab shuffled across to my own, still looking directly at her, hoping she’d just head back inside. Finally to side skip my way down to the finish line. I’m sure it comes as no surprise that Lucy is still staring at me in disbelief, thinking this is probably the weirdest man she’s ever had over. I can’t blame her but alas it was okay, I was back to base. 

After the incident I got dragged to the local salon for a proper upheaval (if you ever have the choice, always go pro) and I am now proudly walking, patch free. 

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