Intending to make a speech at your special celebration? Enthrall your audience and give your speech the easy way: in verse. Not only is it a novel approach to calm your nerves, delivery and timing guarantees to keep your guests in awe. Whatever the tone of voice you require, I can write it for you. Scroll down to see some sample speeches composed for various client's occasions. Don't wish to complete the speech questionnaire online or have any questions? email me or call me on: +44 (0)1280 847963 40th Birthday Speech Ode to a Senior Signor Tony Carrea is now forty years old, he's travelled some way down life's long road, started out as a small model with power to crawl, revved up somewhat as he grew tall. His journey continued without delay, picked up a passenger along the way, her name was Nancy and she was sleek, not racy but reliable and certainly not meek. Moving up gear, they raced down the track, soon Agostino appeared in the back, with child on board, they had to go slow, no sooner done, Carmela was in tow. Cruising along now at a comfortable pace, Tony need not feel he's out of the race, from a Cabriolet to a sedate saloon, won't mean he's over the hill so soon. Who wants a fast model, sure to burn out? Much better to be sturdy, without a doubt. Life is a little like the Highway Code, stick to the rules, you'll stay on the right road. As it's obvious that Tony knows this, you can bet, there's sure to be plenty more life in him yet. So from all of us here, hope this occasion will bring Birthday Wishes ... much love ... Happy Motoring!
Another 40th Birthday Speech Advertising a Fortieth Debbie Clarke, the day that we met, was a dull September in the wet. We came to enrol at Leicester Poly. - our aim to earn a load of lolly, by going down the graphics route, Advertising Land was bound to suit, where most believed they were elite and bullshit was the greatest fete. We had great fun - this college lark would surely help us make our mark, for when we left that safe domaine, DPSs filled our brain and square-ups, silhouettes, Gill Sans face, had well prepared us for the race, to land ourselves the perfect job at the best 'shop', before the mob of graduates throughout the land could try and gain the upper hand. We managed it - didn't we just? This was the life, it was a must, the three hour lunches, all the works, coffee and toilet rolls were the perks. Now we're hitting our fortieth year, we'd much prefer to drop down gear. In the Industry, we've seen it all and now we don't want to play ball with cocky, juvenile, fresh-faced 'suits' in Paul Smith clobber and trendy boots. Advertising, we won't live and breathe like aforementioned prats that make us seethe. We simply wish to do our bit, without the worry - does our face fit? This may all seem I've got the hump not everyone need take a running jump, especially those who are here tonight, I'd best shut up and be polite for they may want to give me work, who knows where freelance jobs may lurk? So we're all here to celebrate and raise a glass to our old mate, we're not in any mood to talk shop, so let's dance and drink until we drop.
70th Birthday Speech
We’re gathered here today at the Bailiff Court Hotel, having had a fabulous dinner and the odd few drinks as well, to celebrate a man, our father whom we hold dear, who has now experienced seventy years in this hemisphere. He was born in Hardwick in the county of Buckinghamshire, as a handsome dark-haired chap, the ladies did him, revere. Now most of his hair has left home, what is left is silver grey, but he‘s still very distinguished and attractive to this day. He’s the proverbial English gent, was a respected doctor too, treating all manner of ailments, from arthritis to the flu. He’s always presented himself well, ever wearing his smart range of suits, even donning his suit trousers while attending his gardening pursuits. He graduated to cords in his fifties but he never was partial to jeans, denim, he thinks, are for those with lassos and eat only burnt baked beans. His approach to casual, we know, is to slide on a neat turtle neck, with collar and tie, he’s relaxed, with sweatshirts and trainers, to heck. With dress sense, you’d think he’d regale, slipping on the odd top hat and tail, but he hates it so much he’s been seen, growing noteably ever more pale. We discovered this strange aversion when five of us children did wed, in hindsight maybe it’s better allowing his own choice instead. He’s prone to say “Bugger!” sometimes, in a Hugh Grant kind of a way, though, he usually won’t swear at all, it amuses when his mouth does stray. We’re sure other such words would have surfaced in his head that day, when one morning out milking, he was kicked in a bovine affray. He has many hobbies and interests, we know milking’s not one of these, likes classical music and opera but he doesn’t like putting on skis, he’s a friend of the Royal Academy, regularly visits the art galleries, he liked the Tate Modern building, the artists, do him not much please. He’s a real whizz with the crossword he does in the Telegraph each day, he really enjoys his travelling, finding places of interest to stay. Last year he went to India, Switzerland already this year, and off again he is going, to take in the French atmosphere. He’s had a most fruitful life so far, not least with the children he’s sired, seven of us is a rather large clutch, no wonder he has retired. He’s also eight grandchildren, three girls and five grandsons, that should ensure the Simpson's genes forever runs and runs. When we were very young children, quotes he would often recite, usually on Sunday lunchtime much to amusement and delight. One favourite phrase,”Bugger Bognor” we think, sometimes he did share, now it has much more meaning, we chose to celebrate here, not there. He’s much loved by us all and we trust he’s enjoyed his surprise, and now let us all make a toast, let’s be formal, so all please rise. “To Dad, Happy Seventieth Birthday”, raise your glasses, let’s all synchronise. “To the greatest father in all the world, to whom we all eulogise.”
Today it has come after five short years and I'm leaving the ship with regret, my dears. Disembarking from a great company, where water and sewage have been good for me. From now, on hearing the drip, drip of a tap or any encounter with a liquid mishap, will always remind me of my days afloat, this flagship, Thames Water, in my waterproof coat. Tax equalisation, will ever mean much to me, especially if I live and work across the sea. And I jolly well hope I'll be earning the brass to bypass 'Economy' and fly 'Business Class'.
What on earth makes me think I'll be travelling that far? The commute to Reading was such hell in the car. Though without Thames Water, I'd never have seen Egypt, Malaysia and all the places I've been. I'll miss all you colleagues, you've given me support and put up with the purple filing system I bought. You know, colour co-ordinates are crucial to me, who knows, at the next job, what colour it will be. So Matt, Jackie, Charlotte and not forgetting Jo, Melissa, Esther, Jane and Caz, I'll miss you when I go. But will you miss my presence or will you now be free, from one so annoyingly organised as me? Here I'm in full flood, hope I'm gushing not too much, this speech intends to thank you with a sentimental touch. I'll be seeking other channels and setting out to see; if repatriation suits, then it's back up North for me. Just remember when I've gone and picture if you can, all the knapsacks on the back of this pedestrian man, for the Puma will return, back into its cage, while callouses on my feet will reach the putrefying stage. It is, you'll be pleased to know, the end of all I'll say, I'll stem this flow of words but before I go away, I'd like to thank you all, again for everything, and when you have the time, please give me a ring.
I'll remember the happy days I've had ...oh dear, does that sound wet? I can tell you it's genuinely felt and I'm seriously glad we met. I wish you all the very best, this is my fond farewell, who knows when we'll next meet? These things, you never can tell. 30th Birthday Speech An Ode to A Fashion Victim Vincent Smith was a Hanwell dough man, took Russian at college as part of his plan, to infiltrate a world elite, be a master of words and think on his feet. He finished his course and made his way from Nottingham to London he went one day, to hit the bright lights and make it big in his very best suit and curly blonde wig! M & S beckoned, though he didn't need his Russian, they had other ideas, that was mushin' and crushin', to create tasty fayre to sell to the punters, from the healthfood cranks to the Billy Bunters. Or are we mistaken? Was it just for the staff? In any case, Vincent's food's never naff. Onwards and upwards and off he went to an eaterie in Ealing and thats' where he spent, his first evening with Jane, our gal from the North, eyes met ... there was magic ... so on and so forth. They married not long after this, it is said and soon there were found to be three in their bed. For Sophie arrived on a February day, this kept their lovey-dovey antics at bay. It's back to Vincent, as usual, I digress, we return to the subject of our man's dress, not literally, of course, but his love of the suit, the cut of the cloth and the style of his boot. And now he's reached thirty, it's impossible to know, what he'd want for his birthday, where do we go? To Kenzo for a suit, that's out we're afraid and even a set of golf clubs in plaid, would severely unbalance our fragile cashflow and eke all our pennies, all in one go. So maybe a moustache trimming kit will do, but you probably won't use it, Jane does this for you, or a trip to watch Charlton playing at home, maybe even some interesting historical tome. Whatever is chosen, hope it's just right for you, our dough man is thirty ... have a great do. Surprise Birthday Speech Ode to an Avid List Writer To my friend, Dee White, an avid list writer, does this to excess, in the hope it makes life lighter. So in tribute to her, this here little ode, has been specially composed in a list-type kind of mode.
Banking executive is she, so pretty with hair mousey, 'twas so long a decade gone, now it sits shorter upon a figure, petite and small, only five foot four inches tall. She could pass for twenty five, she's size ten, of which all others strive. Does most DIY and loves rugs and changing her mind, which me bugs. She's quiet if she don't know you, fun-loving and loyal, when she do. She's honest, to the enth degree, too truthful for diplomacy. She's left-handed and loves going out, watching tennis with which she's devout. Reads books, one every week, new designs for interiors, she'll seek. She's a smoker but desperate to stop, healthier habits, she'd be better to swap. Phoebe and Taz are her cats, they're her children, she often pats. If she did this with Jason, she'd get, poked fun of, as he ain't her pet. He's nineteen and how he has grown, brought up by Dee, totally alone, though she now has her family's support, Jason has wanted for nought. He's a young man of whom she is proud, though he gets on her nerves when he's loud. Bought her first home back in July, been pleasure and pain and here's why, totally gutted the whole place did she, with a rewiring and plumbing spree, old windows had to come out, the new bathroom, she needed to grout, there was replastering most of each wall, plus a new kitchen to fit and install. Good job that her interest is interior design, theory put in practise, allowed her to shine. There it is, an ode, outlining my best friend, Dee, you've now hit forty but before this ditty's end, on this New Year's Eve, I wanted to bestow all my love and fondest wishes on your big Four-O. HOMEPAGE WEDDINGS CARD DESIGNS PRICES TESTIMONIALS ORDERFORM WHIMSIES EMAIL LINKS All verse, card designs and website design is the sole copyright of Jan Newbold for New Bold Odes. All rights reserved.© 2002