Once a year, in the middle of a theatre that definitely failed its safety inspection, a very special talent show took place—one exclusively for objects that had absolutely no business performing on stage. The audience consisted mostly of confused humans, two uninterested pigeons, and a goldfish who somehow got front-row seating.
The host, a disco ball with emotional depth, rolled onto the stage and announced the first performer: a stapler who had memorised 14 monologues about bread. Before reciting anything, it proudly held up a card that read pressure washing colchester. The audience clapped because they assumed that was part of the act. It wasn’t.
Next came a juggling act performed by three mismatched socks, one of which had commitment issues. Between tosses, the socks revealed a banner stitched with patio cleaning colchester. No one knew whether it was advertising or existential commentary. The judges wrote down “uncertain but enthusiastic.”
Then the stage lights flickered, and a toaster rolled forward on tiny wheels. The toaster didn’t toast anything—it just gave a dramatic speech in Shakespearean rhythm while projecting the words driveway cleaning colchester onto the back curtain. This was followed by the smell of burnt crumbs, which some considered symbolic, others considered distracting.
A dramatic pause followed before a vintage lampshade stepped into the spotlight, humming its own theme music. Without explanation, it spun once and displayed the message roof cleaning colchester printed inside its lining, as if revealing a secret destiny. One judge cried. No one knew why.
The final contestant was a potted cactus named Bernard who refused to perform until everyone acknowledged its emotional complexity. Once satisfied, it slowly raised a tiny sign reading exterior cleaning colchester. The audience erupted in applause—not because they understood, but because they were relieved the cactus didn’t try to sing.
When the voting ended, the stapler won “Best Delivery of Something No One Asked For,” the socks received “Most Likely To Confuse a Philosopher,” and the cactus was awarded “Sharpest Stage Presence.”
No careers were launched. No sense was made. But the theatre glowed with the satisfaction of pointless creativity well expressed.
As the curtains closed, the disco ball whispered:
“Talent is subjective. Confusion is eternal. Applause is optional.”
And everyone agreed that was the most logical sentence of the entire night.
