Successes
Toastmasters is designed to support individuals and teams to success. Here are some examples of our successes.
Ribones
Contests
We frequently make it to the division contest. Manjana Saleh; Fall Conference 2011, Basel; Humorous Speech Contest (2nd place) Dyane Neiman; Fall Conference 2011 Basel; Table Topic Contestant Dyane Neiman; Spring Conference 2012 Poznan; International Speech Contestant Khushi Pasquale; Fall Conference 2012 Bonn; Humorous Speech Contestant Christine Roos; Spring Conference 2013, Antwerp; International Speech (2nd place) Wendy Wallace Husser; Fall Conference 2013 Budapest; Table Topic Contestant Brent Kerrigan; Fall Conference 2013 Budapest; Humorous Speech Contestant Khushi
If you wonder how we make it here is an example of a humours speech: Terrible, Horrible, No Good At Farming
By Brent Kerrigan
I was born on a farm. A dairy farm.
I’m the oldest child in my family. The only boy.
…the only boy of a farmer who had been a farmer all his life.
….just as his father and his father was since the beginning of time.
So, before their DNA weaved its way through my family tree and descended into my human body, it was clear: I was to be a farmer.
There was only one problem. Turns out I’m terrible, horrible, no good at farming.
Today I’m going to give you three examples why.
When I was five years old, on a cold December morning my dad dragged me out to the barn.
“Son,” he said, “time you milked your first cow.”
I looked at that dirty, shivering cow. And I thought to myself: “That’s where milk comes from? NOOOOO THANK YOU!!”
Still, I wanted to please my father. But I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. But I looked at the teats and I looked at the tail and I put 1 and 4 together.
I stood behind the cow and began to pump her tail (pump slow)
I waited for the milk to begin gushing out.
But you know what? Nothing happened! (pump harder)
At one point, the cow actually turned around as if to say “What you doooooing?”.
For the first time I knew it: I was terrible, horrible, no good at farming.
Things didn’t get better.
When I was 7 we got a bull. I named him Neversaid. Why Neversaid?
Because when the guy delivered the bull, I asked him: “Hey, what’s the name of that bull?” He replied “Never said”. So that’s what I called the bull—Neversaid!
One spring morning I was playing outside and Neversaid the Bull was let out into our field of cows for the first time.
Now, I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a bull that has been kept inside all winter released into a field of cows, but let’s just say that he’s eager to get the ball rolling!
My father came to me, probably imagining a little bonding time and said “son, this is important. This is how we get new cows. This is how we (clenching his fists) strengthen the herd.”
And all I could say was “look dad, Neversaid is getting a piggyback ride from all the cows!” (gallop across the stage).
Terrible, horrible, no good at farming.
I tried, I really did, but nothing seemed to work.
My mom threw a party for my 12th birthday. I invited ALL my friends—all three of them—and there wasn’t much to do.
But we had been drinking soda all day and we had to go pee.
I decided to get the party started.
“Who can pee on the electric fence?” I said.
As I said, not much to do in my town.
My friends looked at me…and we’re 12 year old boys so of course they said “OH YEAHHHH!”.
We lined up and I knew…this was my moment of glory.
The kid to the left of me?
Failure.
….couldn’t hit the fence at all.
Kid to my right? Same deal. He peed too high.
But me, I knew this was my moment of glory….my chance to be a real farmer.
I unzipped, aimed and I hit that fence alright, but when I did…there was a spark, and then a blue flame and then: ZZZZZZZZZZZZAP!
(high voice) And I realized that I was still terrible, horrible, no good at farming.
Time passes. And suddenly I’m at the end of high school.
One day I went to the mailbox and found an envelope. It was from a university. A few months back I’d submitted an application and I’d forgotten all about it.
They’d accepted me!
Suddenly the predestination of my youth was broken by possibility of a very different future.
I went back to the house and I looked out the window clutching that envelope.
I saw the cows that I never loved, the land I never learned and my father who was without another son to take over the farm sitting out there, just staring into the distance.
He looked at me and knew what it was.
“So, whaddya gonna do?” he said.
“I…I think I’m gonna go,”
And I he sighed and shrugged his shoulders. He turned away. I’d broken his heart.
(long pause)
But then I looked closer.
Hey! Those weren’t tears of sadness, those were tears of joy!
And he said: “Thank God, because I’ve spent the last five years trying to figure out how to tell you…
I’m letting your sister take over the farm!”.
And I said “WHY?”
He said “son, are you really going to make me say it again?
“It’s because you are truly terrible, horrible, and no good at farming!
Brent Kerrigan is a professional speechwriter who trains people to write and deliver better speeches. Check out his online speechwriting courses at www.globalspeechwriter.com.