I’ve always admired the Guild from afar – mostly the very, very far distance of a Marown Primary School classroom.

For many, the Manx Music, Speech and Dance Festival is an annual highlight, steeped in tradition since 1892 and held proudly each April at the Villa Marina.

For me, until recently, it was mostly a vague memory of being gently (and repeatedly) nudged towards it by teachers who saw potential that I clearly didn’t.

So, naturally, it took my friend Barton to actually sign me up.

And no, not just sign me up - he paid the £6 entry fee himself.

Some friends treat you to a pint. Barton treats you to public humiliation.

I hadn’t entered myself, nor had I ever considered doing stand-up comedy in my life.

But thanks to Barton’s generosity and sense of humour, I found myself preparing for Class D46 – Stand-Up Comedy (Adult) Senior class – at the Guild 2025.

It was 9pm on a Saturday night, and I was in the Promenade Suite with over 30 people waiting to laugh at (or possibly with?) me.

I was up against seasoned Guild names like Graham Crowe and Bruno Barton – veterans of the Villa stage, whereas I’d just about managed to remember where the venue was.

Tom had to get a picture with stand-up comedy winner Graham Crowe (and the very kind judge who scored him 81/100)
Tom had to get a picture with stand-up comedy winner Graham Crowe (and the very kind judge who scored him 81/100) (Media Isle of Man )

I wasn’t alone though.

I brought a gang of my loudest, daftest mates to cheer me on and possibly sway the judges with their laughter (or sympathy).

I’d memorised my script like a pro… until about the two-minute mark. Then the nerves kicked in, and so did the blanks.

But I powered through – mostly with Isle of Man-based jokes, jabs at my pal Barton, and the odd questionable quip about journalism on the island (yes, cats up trees is news sometimes, thank you very much).

I even turned on the judges: ‘How does one qualify as a comedy expert anyway?’

Despite losing chunks of my set to the nerves and glares from my heckling friends, I somehow scored 81/100. Not bad for a first go, right?

I strutted off stage like I’d just headlined the Apollo, then spent the rest of the night proudly waving my scorecard at anyone willing to look.

I even bought myself a well-earned pint – I had earned it.

Tom showing off his stand-up comedy score card like he'd won something important - along with his well-deserved pint
Tom showing off his stand-up comedy score card like he'd won something important - along with his well-deserved pint (Media Isle of Man )

My mum still doesn’t think I’m funny, but I’ve got 81 points that say otherwise - and as far as I’m concerned, that’s 81 more than I started with.

On a serious note, the Guild really is a gem.

From incredible musical talent to poetry, dance, drama and, yes, even stand-up comedy, it’s a true celebration of the island’s creative spirit.

I may not have brought the house down, but I got up, gave it a go and (almost) remembered my lines.

Would I do it again? Absolutely.

Though maybe next time I’ll leave the script at home and just roast Barton for seven full minutes.

After all, that guy owes me – £6 worth of trauma, at least.