Embarrassing and funny stage bloopers

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I 'm a bit of a scatterbrain, so I've suffered countless figurative setbacks as a presenter, compère, MC and entertainer. You wouldn't believe how many times I've stood in front of an audience, impeccably dressed in a suit, but with my pants unzipped... And everyone staring at your fly... you can tell!

But it could always be worse…

Michèle was an entertainer at Vogue Club, Eritrea, Greece. During a cabaret show for the holiday club crowd, she lip-synced a number in a long white dress. I was the technician and found the act rather bland. I suddenly had the idea to turn on the blacklights. These make everything white fluoresce very brightly, always a striking effect. Unfortunately, the dress turned out to be a pale ecru that didn't pick up the fluorescent light. Unlike her white underwear underneath, which made it look like she was singing in her lingerie. She was so angry afterwards!

Marc, one of our beach boys, wasn't exactly a stage animal, but all the entertainers were supposed to also go on stage, so we suggested he take over Louis's bilingual sketch. It goes like this: He comes on stage and says he wants to recite a poem. And then he starts: "Here I come, today I come down..." There was no further text, but by then you hear another entertainer from backstage shouting , "Hey, Louis, where's my jacket? You're wearing my jacket!" and he comes onstage, cursing, demanding his jacket. The same thing happens with another entertainer for his shirt, and finally another (reluctantly) for his pants. And when he's standing there in his underwear, a female entertainer who had sat down in the audience jumps up, shouting, "Hey Louis, but that's my knickers!" And one after the other, they sprint off. Always plenty of hilarity.

So Marc was going to do that. But we, sneaky bastards, decided to trick Marc. And when he got to "Here I come down," nothing happened. No shouting, no intervention. Result… Marc was dying on stage. We, on the other hand were cracking up.

To convince him to go back on stage next time, one of us had gained his trust and given him a cheat sheet to put in his pocket just before we went on stage, ready to serve as further text in case we tried to pull the same trick on him. And so it was. We were silent. And again, we did nothing. Marc pulled out his note and began reading aloud the most inane, bilingual nonsense we'd prepared. The audience was completely baffled. We, on the other hand, exploded!

One of my many jobs was interpreting. While I often presented in various languages, the captain of every cruise ship I worked on, gave his traditional welcome or farewell speech in English, and I, alongside him, translated into the necessary other languages.

In a farewell speech, Captain Panagiotakis said, "I hope you enjoyed the cruise ," to which I heard myself say in French, "J' espère que vous avez bien joui" Unfortunately, it should have been bien profité or something like that, because jouir also means "getting an orgasm" in French. All French passengers, of course, reacted in stitches. The captain frowned surprised. I, on the other hand...

In high school, a big show was performed in the theater. As the lead dancer, I performed the famous West Side Story jump to the music of that musical, right up front on the stage. Unfortunately, I was wearing vintage jeans that were much too tight, and during that jump, all the buttons on my pants broke off simultaneously.

I had a similar experience with tights that were too small and kept slipping down during a modern ballet performance. This forced me to improvise, dancing my way into the side wings, pull the tights up as best I could, and then dance back down. Unfortunately, it was a long choreography, so I had to repeat this several times. Quite annoying.

Another time, for a Sunair promo show, we had a jazz ballet in bare feet but with leg warmers (80s!). The curtain rose. Turns out I'd forgotten to take off my clunky shoes backstage before coming on.

1976. I'm studying elocution, diction, and drama at the conservatory. For drama, a female co-star has to take an exam in front of a professional jury, including the late Nand Buyl, in the otherwise nearly empty SSB. It's a clown act, and I have to knock a plate on her head, after which she has to stagger and feign unconsciousness. Of course, you don't actually hit her, and I practiced hard, knocking her head so it looks like you're hitting her, but you quickly pull back just short of it. I'd mastered it. But nerves, I suppose? I slam the plate on her head, completely lacking reflex control. The sound of the knock elicits gasps of horror from the entire room. She swoons but doesn't fall down, and with her face contorted in pain under layers of clown makeup, she continues. I never knew if she passed.

MS The Meridian (Celebrity Cruises). I'm ready to jump on stage. To get a little pumped up, I'm prancing around like a boxer, pumping up my energy. My American assistant, Ralph, will announce me backstage. The credits are playing. Five more seconds and then he'll yell into the microphone: "Ladies and gentlemen, your cruise director... Viem Vèèn Bèsijéén!" My pump immediately turned into a letdown.

At the Font de Sa Cala holiday club (Mallorca), there's a need for some entertainment help early in the season. Sometimes I call on guests to help out. I had the idea to sing " If I Had a Hammer " with my guitar, and then halfway through the song, a certain Steve, painted as a clown with a hammer, would cheerfully and subtly tap along on a table full of empty bottles. Just before the performance, he turned out to be completely out of sorts with nerves and stage fright. I got a bottle of whiskey and gave him a drink of courage, and then started the show. Steve stayed behind in the wings. When I started that song a while later, Steve appeared, clearly shaky and far away, and while I was singing " I hammer in the morning, I hammer in the evening... ", drunken Steve effectively hammered all the bottles to pieces. The shards flew everywhere.

Not a blooper, but funny nonetheless. Sunclub Pollensa . Fourth of July. We're turning the French national holiday into a real theme day for the many French, including a Tour de France with holidaymakers on all their rental bikes and a "storming of the Bastille" to a tower on the estate where entertainer Frederique proudly portrayed the warrior Marianne in a fluttering dress and with one breast exposed (cf. the famous painting by Delacroix).

There was also an evocation of Asterix and Obelix with all the animators in a Gallic comic strip character where several typical scenes from the series were re-enacted as one long funny sketch.

Because I regularly perform with my guitar, I became the so called Cacofonix, the bard. And sure enough, when I suggest it might be the right time for a song, I get a firm swat from the fisherman Kostunrix : "Non, tu ne chanteras pas! (no, you won't sing!)" with, yes, a real, enormous, fresh fish slapping my head.

For eight years, I produced Opel Belgium/GM 's "decoration party" event, a kind of personnel party where workers and employees were decorated for 25, 30, or 35 years of service. This always attracted 350 to sometimes 800 people. During the academic ceremony, I would project a homemade video about 25, 30, and 35 years ago, respectively. A fun, prehistoric-style clip with highlights, miscellaneous events, and so on, set to music from that year. It was followed by what happened at Opel itself that year. Great fun job. For the actual party, we always had an artist and band, such as Dana Winner, Bart Kaël, and other Will Turas. One year, it was Günther Neefs.

As usual, I was sitting at the HR department table, and those somewhat older ladies kept talking about his famous father, singer Louis Neefs. Günther was about to finish his act. I was the presenter, so I rushed to the stage to off-announce him and heard myself say, "Ladies and gentlemen, your applause for Louis Neefs!" Günther, who had thrown himself into the dancing crowd, started yelling at me: "Günther! Günther! Man, oh man, my cheeks were red..."

In the photo below: Wim as a gladiator/lion tamer during "Roman Night", Vogue Club, Greece.

1995. Finland, Sweden, and Austria joined the European Union. I produced an educational project in collaboration with St. Ryckevelde in Oud Sint-Jan, Bruges, for hundreds of final-year high school students. Various fun activities and a show featuring a huge alphorn, a Finnish folk dance group, etc., highlighted elements of this accession and these diverse countries. Afterwards, a dance party was scheduled in the Ambassadors' Hall. As host, I announced, "There's a party coming up." A mix of snickers and jeers erupts from the audience. It turns out that the word " party " (called a T-dansant in my days) has become a hopelessly old-fashioned, unhip, ridiculously wrong, and unfashionable word for young people back then. "Dan ce happening" would have been more appropriate. I instantly felt that my youth was definitively over.

Not really a stage blooper but still embarrassing .

Being a cruise director is a constant parade of dressing up (with little time). So, one day you might have to show up in the morning in company uniform, jacket and tie, along with those eternal white pants and shoes. I will never wear white slacks or shoes anymore for the rest of my life. I swear. If you can go ashore, then it's: Hooray, putting on "a loud shirt "! Then back on board: again uniform, but with company T-shirt (the exact color changes daily), sometimes Bermuda shorts, always white, yes. Then in the evening, a suit (business attire with a tie) or gala attire (formal, tuxedo, dinner jacket, black tie, whatever you want to call it), then in show-presentation attire for show announcements or interventions. Then back to the attire of the day.

And if you, as a cruise director, have to attend to about five cocktail parties in the early evening (private, group, in lounges, or regularly in the captain's quarters), there's little time. One day, I was late joining the Master at the opening of the captain's cocktail party to greet the passengers. I had a quick shower and put on my dinner jacket and suit, picking a scab - or pimple? - non aware from my chest. A few minutes later, I was standing next to the captain in time when one of the first passengers pointed in dismay to a huge bloodstain that was oozing through my white shirt.

Similar: I'm standing at the gala reception, waiting by the door next to the captain in my white Hong Kong tailor-made tuxedo, when I absent-mindedly sit in the middle of a full ashtray. Or: realizing during the flight that I washed my hair with shaving cream and tried to shampoo my beard. No. It doesn't get any crazier than that.

Watch a photo-video montage about Wim as an entertainer (between 1975 and 1993) here.