Swerve

There's no way to look dignified whilst eating a baguette. Especially if it's full of plasticine cocks.

That was my opening gambit. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm feeling self-conscious today, so will need to swerve erratically between different topics and writing styles to escape my own disappointment.

This Isn't a Popularity Contest

by

Mick Stmedia

Chapter One

Kriss was in denial. And a popularity contest.

Chapter Two

As the votes were tabulated, he tried to make small talk with the other contestants. They were tight-lipped.

Chapter Three

"...and the winner is..." Kriss took a deep breath.

Chapter Four

"Winning isn't everything," said Kriss's dad on the way home, full of a service station fry-up and pride.

The End

Do you ever do that thing where you're waiting at a pedestrian crossing and you see a cyclist? I do sometimes.

But at other times, either I'm not at a pedestrian crossing, or there aren't any cyclists nearby, or both.

I live a varied life.

Seriously though, things have been difficult ever since I lost my leg in a pair of trousers. You'd think that would be impossible. I'd just have to search the left leg hole, followed by the right (or vice versa). It's hardly the hunt for Bin Laden. But it took some time.

Eventually, I realised my leg was poking out of the flies (or "fly" if you're American), confusing everyone at the International Urinal Expo (IUE) 2009.

That's enough moving around. I'm going to stick to a topic now.

I've just seen a link to Captain Beefheart's Ten Commandments of Guitar Playing on the Lists of Note website.

They're excellent - you can read them here.

My favourite is number three:

3. Practice in front of a bush.

Wait until the moon is out, then go outside, eat a multi-grained bread and play your guitar to a bush. If the bush doesn't shake, eat another piece of bread.

I will follow that advice.

I can't really stick to that topic, so I'll move on. I'm like The Littlest Hobo, except instead of helping people, I'm making tenuous comparisons to The Littlest Hobo. And I'm gone again.

It's a shame that perverts have tainted the wink.

The wink used to be an important part of one's facial arsenal. It's a useful cue: a signal of a shared secret, a prompt to read between the lines. The lowering of both eyelids is a mechanical function. The lowering of one is an excited whisper: "...there's more to this than meets the eye". More than the lid, my friends. Much more.

Society needs the wink. That need is made clear by the high usage of the winky emoticon.

;-)

It's everywhere. The saviour of the inarticulate typist.

But nowadays, a wink is too closely linked to the sleazebag, the knowing dandy, the creepy uncle. What if I want to wink at a friend? I can't. They'd take it the wrong way.

"I've been working hard," I might say, and then wink.

In years gone by, they would understand that gesture. It would signify: "I haven't been working hard. Disregard my verbal communication. The eye flap is mightier than the mouth flap. Spoken language is a doddering old fool. An anachronism. An analogue tool in a digital world. Intention is better conveyed through a flicker than a phrase."

It would say all of that. All of it, with only a ;-).

But now, it doesn't signify that. Not at all.

"I've been working hard," I might say, and then wink.

And it would signify: "I would like the two of us to engage in sexual intercourse."

I'd be thrown out of the orphanage. (My friend might work in an orphanage)

Once again, the sexual predators have robbed us of a valuable resource. Just as they did with the kiss-on-the-hand, the shoulder massage and the Lynx body spray.

Maybe we can come up with some kind of wink replacement. One devoid of predatory connotations. How about three sudden claps in quick succession?

"I've been working hard," I might say, and then CLAPCLAPCLAP.

It would signify all the things that the wink used to signify, but with no references to eyelids and more references to clapping.

Try this at home or at work. Let me know how it goes.

Of course, I know I'm exaggerating. There was no golden age of the wink. I'm sure there were just as many sleazebags around in the olden days. More, probably, because they didn't have the stabilising influences of feminism and Botox. 

But still... but still...

I wish I could wink and have people judge me for what I am: a nuanced physical communicator.


***

What's that? You were expecting a punchline? You wanted me to say "it would probably help if I took my hands out of my trousers"?

Or "this also applies if you replace the word 'wink' with 'grope'"?

Well, I'm not going to. I'm making a serious point here. I don't want to jeopardise my credibility.

;-)