Jack Whitehall: At Large

Please welcome Jack Whitehall.

Show business, baby.

Show business.

Wow! How amazing is this?

Here we are at the record of my first ever Netflix special.

Yeah.

I don't know why I'm talking into this. I'm on a head set.

I doubt that's even on. I doubt that is even...

I mean, not even plugged in. Literally just a prop.

This is an international show.

I've realized, right, trying to do the international show,

that the cultural divide is much greater than we think.

The biggest difference, I realize, between us and our American cousins,

when I went to California, was the attitude to drinking.

Completely different.

I heard sentences in California that I've never heard before. Like this:

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Did you see Larry?

Larry had four glasses of wine with dinner.

I think Larry...

may be an alcoholic."

Yes, I know.

Four glasses of wine with dinner in America: you're an alcoholic.

Four glasses of wine with dinner in Britain: you're the designated driver.

Nothing, though, sums up the differing attitudes to drinking in the UK and the US

than what we encourage our children, our little babies,

to leave out Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

Do you know what the kids in America leave out Santa Claus on Christmas Eve?

Milk and cookies.

"Hey, Santa, I'm gonna leave this big old glass of milk.

It's packed full of calcium so your bones can be strong and sturdy.

Love you, Santa. Santa Claus, love you.

I love you, Santa Claus."

What do the children of Britain leave out Santa Claus every Christmas Eve?

Sherry.

Neat liquor,

which we have our children believe Santa Claus is downing at every house,

whilst operating a sleigh.

"Could we leave him a cookie, Daddy?"

"No, eating's cheating, you bastard."

"Go grab some tinnies for the elves, you little..."

"Daddy?" "What?"

"Why am I American, and you're from the north of England?"

"I don't know. Jack messed up your voice.

Now he's messing up mine. I've gone Jamaican."

Every time.

I probably should have asked, before I launched into all of that...

And before I ask you this question as an audience as well,

I need you to understand something very important.

This...

is a safe space.

Seriously, OK? This is the trust tree.

Everyone climbs and nobody falls.

Yeah, even I find that one a bit camp, but...

Trust tree. OK? Safe space.

Do we have any non-drinkers in?

Burn the witch!

Sorry. Sorry.

Yes. That was very loud.

This guy nearly shat himself. I'm sorry.

I didn't meant that, madam. Sorry. I have a huge amount of respect to you.

I come from a family of heavy drinkers. My dad, he drinks a lot.

This is how big a drinker my dad is.

I took my dad to a McDonald's the other day, for the first time ever.

He asked to see a wine list.

Very confusing, McDonald's.

They've got salads, carrot batons... I swear, we are a year away from McQuinoa.

That's why I like KFC. KFC, they know what they are.

There's no healthy options in a KFC.

No airs and graces with a KFC.

Here is some deep-fried shit for you to eat out of a bucket.

We'll even chuck in a wet-wipe because we can't trust you to wash your hands.

Go on, eat it piggy.

"I wonder what the Colonel's secret blend of herbs and spices is."

Salt!

It's not rocket science.

I just want to make clear, I've never complained in a restaurant.

I'm British. I would never complain in a restaurant.

If I'm with someone that complains in a restaurant, I die inside.

"Don't say anything. Don't make a scene. Just eat the nut, all right?

We have an EpiPen at home. We will deal with it later.

What? No. Everything's wonderful. She's loving it.

Her neck is always that big. That's very normal."

Ex-girlfriend, Ella.

Or Nut-Ella, as we used to call her. No, no!

Oh, God rest her soul.

The other thing my dad can't get his head round is technology.

I've got a great prank that I play on my dad. You've got to try this.

If your parent is a bit of a technophobe,

what I do, is I wait for my mum to buy a new bit of machinery for their house.

Doesn't matter what it is: laptop, coffee machine, new printer.

And then I tell my 76-year-old dad

that said piece of machinery...

is voice-activated.

Oh, my God, you have not known true joy

until you have seen a 76-year-old man tell an electric blanket to go fuck itself.

I'm not being ageist, OK?

I think it's very important that we respect our elders.

I was visiting my granny recently. My dear old Nan.

You know. Got to check the will...

Check they're well. Check that she is well.

My granny is very much from a different generation.

Oh, my God, we were clearing out her house the other day.

We found some quite dubious things on her shelves.

Oh, dear.

I know. I know.

I took her aside. I was, like, "Granny, come on. It is 2017.

Who is still using VHS?"

Yeah, the racist doll is not great either.

Also, this is exactly as I found it in her house.

If you're going to have your racist doll out on display,

which you shouldn't,

please do not have your racist doll out on display

above your copy of Nelson Mandela's Long Walk to Freedom.

She's unbelievable, my granny.

She's in a nursing home now, and she sits there in her commode.

You know, the chair with the potty underneath it.

That's not the funny bit, mate!

She sits there on her potty, knitting, watching Murder She Wrote. Right?

And she doesn't have a lot of fun.

And it got me thinking,

because I saw this article recently about the writer, Aldous Huxley.

This is such bullshit. I saw a tweet.

Do you know what Aldous Huxley asked for on his deathbed?

LSD.

Now that is the attitude more old people need to be taking.

More of the elderly need to start experimenting with recreational drugs.

I'm not saying do drugs when you're younger. That's a bad idea.

You might get into them.

But when you're 85, living in a nursing home,

fuck it!

If I lived in a nursing home I'd get on it all the time.

Also, they've got the perfect set-up:

disposable income, nurses on call, daytime television,

a chair you can shit yourself in...

It's bloody perfect.

I'm just bored of hearing people talking about their grandparents

when they go, "How did your granny die?"

"She died in her sleep."

Like that's a good thing.

Who wants to die in their sleep?

I want my granny to go out all guns blazing.

I want people to ask me, "Jack, how did your granny die?"

"She dropped an E and had a stroke whilst doing the worm to Antiques Roadshow. "

Don't do drugs, kids. That's not what I'm saying.

I'm not into the drugas.

I did have an experience recently. I went away on a lads' weekend.

Oi, oi! Lads! Lads! Lads!

I was with Digby and Rupert and...

Quite the threesome...

That sounded less gay in my head.

That's the most overrated thing in the world: the threesome.

Sorry, this is a bit of an aside.

I had a threesome once, at school, OK?

It was with this beautiful Italian exchange student called Maria

and this chap called Monkford, and...

No, you just get in each other's way.

Eventually I had to be, like, "I think it's best if you leave us two together."

Fortunately, she was very understanding.

Monkford. Odd chap, but a bloody good teacher.

So, lads' weekend. Lads' weekend, OK?

We went to Amsterdam.

So, we're in Amsterdam and me and my chums, Rupes and Diggers,

we're down this kind of back street,

and one them, Diggers: naughty guy.

Diggers is smoking some of the weedy puff.

I'm not into it, as you probably guessed by the fact that I called it weedy puff.

"Weed." That's how normal people talk, Jack.

So he was smoking some weed, and he turned to me and he went,

"Jack, do you want a suck on this?" Not... not suck. Not suck.

That is not the word that he used.

That is not what he...

This is going well.

"I was with my friend and he asked if I wanted to suck..."

That is not...

I'm having a brain burp. Not suck. What's the word?

Puff! Thank you to the crack whore down the front.

"Do you want a puff on this weed?"

Anyway, I said no because, you know, we're in public.

It's not a great look. What if someone sees?

He went, "Jack, two things. Firstly, it's legal.

Secondly, we're in Holland. No one knows who the fuck you are.

Smoke it."

Now, I'm not proud. I gave in to the peer pressure.

This is why you cannot smoke a spliff on the street in the year 2017.

I shit you not.

As I put this spliff to my lips I looked up,

and the bloody Google Maps car with the 360 camera was driving past.

I read something about Google the other day.

You know last year, in the UK, from advertising alone,

Google made 66 million pounds.

Which, after tax, is 66 million pounds.

We're going to some highbrow territory this evening.

We have silliness and gimmicks at the beginning,

but this is a sophisticated show.

I'm nearly 30 now. OK?

I had a dinner party the other night. We talked about mortgage rates.

Sophisticated show for a sophisticated audience.

So, dick pics...

This is actually a very serious story, OK? Very serious story.