Sick Children

I haven't posted anything here for a while, but that doesn't mean I haven't been generating ideas. I've kept notes of all the interesting things that have passed through my brain over the past week, and I will discuss them in turn.

My notes read as follows:

1. Shop polite - good day to you - trousers
2. Dead child on back of bike story
3. Race for knife
4. "8"
5. Overused joke words
6. Newton and the swan
7. TripWire
8. Therape

Actually, these are pretty self-explanatory. Maybe I'll leave it like this.

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PSYCHE!

(Remember when people used to say "psyche"? As though they'd "psyched you out"? Like PJ and Duncan? Remember PJ and Duncan?)

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Shop polite - good day to you - trousers
On Tuesday, we went to the Co-Op to buy some milk, some rolls, some frozen sweetcorn and some Weetabix Minis (which they didn't have - I got Weetos instead).

That's not the whole story.

We were waiting in the queue by the self-service check-outs when a male member of staff approached. I believe he was a member of staff because he was wearing the correct uniform and had an authoritative manner. I suppose it could just have been an unambitious Jackal-style master of disguise.

"Can I take that for you, sir?" he asked. But not in a helpful manner, more in the manner of someone who suspected me of thievery. Waiting in line to pay for your items is the oldest trick in the thief book.

I agreed, because I was in a bit of a stupor. Whenever we walk home, I space out a little bit. It's too far to walk really, but I'm a creature of habit. My laziness is pronounced, but short-sighted. I'd rather incur the pain of constant long walks than use a small bit of energy to change my behaviour.

In fact, I was in such a stupor that I would have agreed to anything at that point. He was wearing a uniform. I barely had enough composure to continue respiring.

"If you'll just follow me to the back of the shop, sir..."

"If you'll just lock that door behind you, sir..."

"If you could just slip down your trousers for me, sir..."

And I'd oblige, sure that he knew what he was doing, but with the slight, nagging doubt that any sexual assault might last so long the sweetcorn would defrost.

Luckily, he was being helpful, and not malicious in his initial request - just speaking in a very formal way. He took our basket to another checkout (one of the ones by the tobacco counter) and scanned our shopping.

He was brusque and mechanically helpful, straddling the fine line between sentient robot and utter sarcasm.

He literally said, after the transaction was complete, "I bid you good night".

Who says that in 2011? "I bid you good night"?

I think I might have accidentally stumbled into a poorly written student play about a Co-Op worker's attempts to thaw his icy exterior by coaxing people towards where they keep the cigarette lighters.


Dead child on back of bike story
This one isn't as funny as it sounds.

Lucy and I were talking about how sometimes you'll see a cyclist coming towards you, and you think they're talking to themselves. It's only when you pass that you see there's a child seat on the back of the bike and the conversation is a real one.

I thought you could write a good/harrowing story about a parent whose child was killed (probably hit by a lorry or something), but who went crazy and kept believing the child was alive.

They'd cycle through the streets, still talking to the child they thought was in the seat behind.

But the parent could never look back, or else the illusion would be broken. It would be like a modern version of Orpheus and Eurydice, except the main characters would be wearing reflective vests and unflattering helmets.

Race for knife
This led into a discussion that I can't quite remember, but doesn't seem that funny in hindsight. It was about someone trying to raise awareness of people being stabbed (the joke being that people are probably already aware of that danger). But I suppose there probably are anti-knife crime charities, so it doesn't really work.

The only real reason to right this down was the Race for Life/Race for Knife pun.

Not really worth it, but I can't edit this out now. My notes are my compass (which must be why I keep drawing wonky circles).


"8"
This one came about from a couple of tweets I wrote:


Deleted scene in Disney's Snow White: an 8th dwarf - known only as '8' - is revealed in the basement: a giant floating telekinetic baby.


Deleted scene in Disney's Robin Hood: after Marian & Robin's wedding, "8" appears in the sky and razes Nottingham to the ground (eye lazers)


I don't know where this idea came from, but I like the idea of a really sinister character being put into cartoons. Cartoon characters are often quite sinister anyway, but it would be good to have something really disturbing.

I think "8" would look a bit like The Watcher from Marvel Comics:

I also like the idea that the character was put into the first cut of every Disney film, but each time they chickened out from leaving him in the film.

"We just don't think the audience is gonna like this weird baby guy slaughtering all the main characters at the end of the movie. Kids don't like that! No-one wants to see Piglet disintegrated!"

That's why Hollywood's in the toilet. No-one takes chances anymore.


Overused joke words
There are certain words and references that are overused in jokes. These aren't always the same - they go in and out of fashion - but there's a weird synergy where particular objects or concepts become de rigueur.

(I've never written 'de rigueur' before. There's something about the sound of that phrase that's repellent; like the term itself wants to make people sound disgusted at having the temerity to use it.)

This is particularly common in surreal comedy, where people need 'weird' references to sound unconventional. (For reference, see every single post of this blog)

There's nothing intrinsically funny or unfunny about these words, it's just about what's expected and what's unexpected. If words are used too frequently as surreal reference points, they become commonplace and so are not funny. Then a whole new school of words take their place.

Historically overused 'surreal' references are to badgers and voles. (Bill Bailey - who I love - uses these, but so do lots of others) I don't know why woodland creatures are seen as emblems of oddity, but it seems they are. Now, whenever I see a comedian joke about a badger, it seems awfully cynical and unimaginative.

In fact any reference to badgers in writing, stand-up, or even internet usernames, is a clear sign of a lack of imagination.

The word that has recently come into fashion is 'tears'. Including 'tears' in your analogy or flight of fancy is all the rage.

If I had done my research, I'd have a good example here. But I don't. Probably because my screen is obscured by salty eye-discharge.

(Just search this blog for 'tears'. I do it all the time.)

People should stop using 'tears' for a while, just until it gets weird again.

Not quite the same is terms used in one-liners, particularly on Twitter, but also in live sets. Everyone seems to have an easy joke about OCD and dyslexia now. It's all a bit formulaic:

"My dyslexic friend invited me round for lunch - turned out we were hanging a black man with the Ku Klux Klan!"

"My friend's an Obsessive Compulsive pyromaniac. He sets fire to thing, but always in the right order!"

(I just came up with them - you can see how easy and rubbish it is)

So maybe people should see the proliferation of these subjects in jokes and lay off a bit. Then again, anything can be funny of you put enough thought into it. My friend Tom Greeves has an excellent bit about OCD, so I should probably abandon this rant.

I'm probably too obsessed with jokes being original, but sometimes the pool of comedy references seems so shallow. I want people to spread their wings.

Speaking of which, I once knew this dyslexic badger with OCD. He kept insisting on being called a Abdegr!

Ah!

Ahaha!

See what I mean?

Newton and the swan

My mum was staying at St Hugh's College recently, and we met her there. On arriving, we noticed a swan motif above the doorway. We speculated about whether there was some quirky Oxford anecdote about the swan, like the one surrounding the Boar's Head Feast.

Lucy suggested that there might have been a Newtonesque moment of scientific discovery, when a swan landed on someone's head.

We wondered what Newtonian physics would be like if they were mostly swan-related, eg: "A swan remains a swan, unless acted upon by an external force", "Each swan has an equal, but opposite, goose" etc.

Oh how we laughed.

It turns out the swan comes from St Hugh himself:


Hugh's primary emblem is a white swan, in reference to the story of the swan of Stowe which had a deep and lasting friendship for the saint, even guarding him while he slept.

The swan would follow him about, and was his constant companion whilst he was at Lincoln.

Now, I don't want to be sceptical here, but I question how deep a friendship can be between a Saint and a swan. I'm not saying there was no affection there, but I'm not sure if the swan would have been capable of connecting with Hugh on a spiritual and intellectual level.

Unless Hugh mainly honked.

The above information also implies that the feelings of friendship predominantly belonged to the swan, and that Hugh was perhaps ambivalent. I think it was at least 50/50.

Apparently, Hugh is the patron saint of sick children, sick people, shoemakers, and (of course) swans.

Sick children and sick people. It's good to be both, just in case personhood doesn't kick in until 18.

I wonder if a shoemaker has ever made shoes from swans. That would really test Hugh's loyalties. I reckon swan slippers would be really comfortable.

Unfortunately, only the Queen is allowed to wear them by law.


TripWire
I think it would be good to watch alternate episodes of The Trip and The Wire, and imagine they're taking place in the same universe.

Both are close to reality, but not quite real.

Of course, each takes place in a different country so there would be no crossover between the two. But still. Imagine it.

The TripWire.


Therape
I'm writing a thing with a friend about relationship counsellors. We've only just started, but I'm sure it will win awards, kudos, plaudits, pludos and awudos.

I've been saving my documents related to this project in a folder on my desktop. Because I'm an annoying idiot, I like to name my computer folders stupid things. They're not even jokes - just pointless wordplay. I get annoyed by other people that indulge in such things, but can't help myself.

So this folder is about therapy. I thought I'd name the folder after this, but amusingly spell it with an 'e;' at the end, in the Greek style (a la Penelope or Calliope).

So I named it Therape.

It was only a while later that I realised that this could be misconstrued. Any other person (be they friend or policeman) wouldn't have the knowledge of my mindset, and would think I had a desktop folder called The rape.

It could get me into trouble.

It would be a strange thing to have a folder like that. For only rape-related files. And not rape in general, but a specific one. THE rape.

You'd probably at least hide that folder somewhere on your hard drive. Don't put it on the desktop.

I'd almost admire someone with that level of organisation.

"Hmm. Well, I've got lots of stuff related to The rape - rope receipts, sketches, mp4 files... Should probably create a folder.

Now should this go in 'The rape' or 'Pictures'? Hmm. Best make a copy and put one in each."


I'm sure you're all aware of my distaste for rape jokes, but remember: this one is about accidental wordplay. The noblest of all humours (except maybe yellow bile).

So this is all fine.


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Right! That's what making notes gets me! Possibly too many words.

I should do this gradually in the future. Or just forget things, and make up content on the spot. It's worked so well in the past.

Now all I need is a blog title.

Normally I like to choose an oblique phrase, which somehow links the disparate content. But this content has been so disparate, I couldn't gather it together with an infinite dustpan and overarching brush.

I'd better just pick something.

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LATE NOTE:

I just did the spell-check, and it suggested I correct 'Weetabix' to 'Wetbacks'. That can't be politically correct, can it?

I guess Blogger hates Mexicans.