Luisa Omielan - What Would Beyoncé Do?!

I would like to thank all the men in my life, the plot points of my story; I wish you a lifetime of love and happiness. Thank you for helping me grow.

I want to thank the women in my life who have carried me, shaped me, loved me, listened to me, inspired me, supported me, wiped away my tears, held my hand and continue to make me absolutely howl with laughter.

Big love to Delia, the most talented person I know, thank you for your amazing illustrations. Katerina Vranarama for being such a generous goddess of a woman. Pasqualey, my date for all my Valentines Days and adventures. Zoe, wifey and comedy sister from Lord knows who.

Della, angel of my life, one of the kindest people I know. Wendy, for all the teens, twenties and ages to come! Smirnoff Ices, jelly-leg dancing and green tea. Ray Ray for being so kind and loving and keeping sand out of my mouth when I was high on Valium and wanted to be a mermaid. Lau Lau for awesome boy analogies and wise words. Am I factually correct in my assumptions?! #GoldenSuitcase. To Ellie T for being an absolute legend. Sajeela for being my comedy mamma. Suzi for the best Old Skool Exhibit days. PS FYI.

Vicci promo 4 life.

Flat party: Kat for actively encouraging my go big or stay at home and cry ideas. Sophie for your endless hair-braiding skills. And Birdy for being such a kind, sweet soul.

Thank you to George, who read and re-read my drafts even though he was bored to tears and helped me go on Tinder. Oi-oi, what do we want? Deep and meaningfuls. When do we want them? Now! Olly for the Meat Loaf and Beenie Man tunes!

Thank you to Mark Bishop for believing in me from the days of the derelict classroom, and Debi Allen who believed in me from the days of a derelict room above a pub.

For Padraig for aways sharing his chips and for Muirrean for being part of the family.

For Francesca who has shown a ridiculous amount of patience and has gently dragged my procrastinating butt all the way through to publication.

Thank you Johnny for always encouraging and supporting me. To my brothers, who I love and adore (butt-butts). To Joasia, I dont care how old you are, to me you will always be my favourite twelve-year-old of all time.

And thank you to my mumma, the woman who has shown me more love from one parent than I could know in a lifetime from two.

Finally, for you, my beautiful audiences who come and play with me, thank you for making my dreams come true and my heart sing.

Big Love

Luisa xxxx

Luisa Omielan is a stand-up, improviser and actress. Her debut solo show What Would Beyonc Do? was an underground smash hit at the Edinburgh Fringe, and has become one of the most successful debut shows to come out of the festival. The Guardian called it one of the biggest stand-up hits of the decade. Luisas follow-up show, Am I Right, Ladies?!, was met with equal critical acclaim.

You know when you find yourself approaching thirty and your dreams are broken? Youve got a temping career going nowhere, a student debt thats mounting and youve just had to move back into your mums house.

Then to top it all off, you get absolutely annihilated with heartbreak because of an ex, who is just not ready but then manages to be ready, a week later, with someone else.

FML.

Luisa Omielan is a stand-up comedian who turned her life around after she answered the mantra every person needs in their life: WHAT WOULD BEYONC DO?!

Here is the beginning. PS I am really sorry if you think this book is going to be all about Beyonc. In this book, I am Beyonc. In fact this book is my Adele 21, bitches.

AND WE START.

So growing up I always thought Id have the same lifestyle as Beyonc, I thought Id be really rich and famous, but God decided to give me a very different set of cards, ah shes hilarious. Its weird, because Ive always had an affinity with Beyonc, like in many ways me and her are really similar: were both fabulous, both have booty and both our mums still make our clothes. In fact very often people get us confused; only the other day someone stopped me on the street and said:

Have you had an accident or an injury at work lately?

I was like I have hot sauce in my bag, swag.

At 21, I graduated from uni with a first-class degree. Even though I didnt have an agent and was living in a run-down estate in Salford, I was adamant fame and fortune beckoned; just give it a year or so Luisa. I mean, look at Keira Knightley, she was like 19 and became huge. I mean, sure, I am a little older, but thats OK, you just wait, in a few years time I am going to be massive. I genuinely thought that by 28 I would have it covered. Career, marriage, a house with two garages, babies. Tick, tick, tick. That was where my 21-year-old self saw me.

So when at the age of 27 I found myself moving back to my small home town of Farnborough and sleeping in my old room, even though my mum had turned it into an office (it was really fun sleeping on the photocopier every night), I wasnt where Id thought I would be at this stage of my life. The photocopier did come in handy when I found myself making up waitressing experience on my CV trying to score a job in Costa with a first-class degree (who the fuck needs to write a CV for a coffee shop; what qualifications do I write down? I bet Beyonc isnt in her local library typing warming milk as one of her skill sets. Its just coffee, FFS, I prefer granules anyway. No, I didnt get the job).

This is how it started.

My brother (who is 26 and also lives at home, though he actually doesnt mind as his biggest ambition is to do handstand press-ups) blocked the toilet with a really big poo, you know, one of the massive long, thick ones, like if it was a penis, you would be well in, but its not, its a poo. He ran out of the house and my mum told me it was my job to clean the toilet. Me? Why is it my job? Its his shit!

Yes Luisa, but he isnt here and you cant sit around doing nothing all day.

What? But thats not my fault. Its gross, cant you make him do it when he gets back?

No, hes too lazy, you know better; now clean the toilet!

So Im there with the toilet brush, desperately trying to make it go down the one-way system, but its not moving and the water is spitting back in my face and a splash lands on my eyelid and I nearly vomit. Its not budging.

My mum comes in to check on me, like she wants to make sure Im doing a thorough job. Shes Polish, the stereotype is true, they do make the best cleaners. She actually teaches English as a foreign language, which is ironic really because she always gets her English wrong, but hey, dont hate the player, hate the game! My favourite English she ever got wrong was Luisa, Ive noticed you have been going through lots of toilet roll recently. When you go, how many slices do you use? Classic. Anyhow, she is the worst to clean for as her standards are unmatchable. So there I am, elbow deep in the toilet basin trying not to vom, and somehow I have managed to get rid of all the water but not the giant shit.

Luisa, thats not going to work, you have to do it properly. Go to the garden and fetch a stick.

What! FML, Im not getting a stick!

Listen, if you want to achieve anything in life, you have to work for it; whether its a career and being famous, or unblocking the toilet, its all the same, its your attitude that counts. So do it properly, go fetch a stick.

Thats how, at the age of 27, I found myself walking around my back garden looking for a reasonable-size stick to break up my little brothers poo.