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A private grief
It is a terrible moment in a young man’s life when he first realises that absolutely nothing is funny.
I mean, the implications are staggering.
For a kick-off, he’s going to have to walk around with a face like Leonard Nimoy or Dismal Jamy for the next fifty years, unless someone hastens his demise with a well-applied machete, which starts to sound like a good idea.
Even worse, he’s morally obliged to tip his energies into futile legal actions against the BBC Television comedy department under the Trades Descriptions Act.
That’s until he’s ruled a Vexatious Litigant and has nowhere left to turn except the drop-in centre and the letters page of the Mortician’s & Necrophile’s Quarterly Snivel-Fest (‘Indispensable!’ Mr F. Kafka, Prague).
Worst of all, what the hell is he going to put in his humorous blog?
That’s the dilemma with which I’ve been wrestling for the past fortnight. I deliberately didn’t mention it here as I didn’t want to burden you with it.
That’s right. My motive for not posting was solely altruistic.
I was refraining from writing Toasty’s Futon for your own good.
So let’s not have any more of this unfounded nonsense about me being an idle sod, or going on a two-week bender in the seediest bars in Ibiza or wherever it was, you do lose track after the thirtieth pint, not that I’d know of course as I haven’t been doing whatever it is you say I’ve been doing, so stop saying I’ve been doing it because I haven’t, is that clear?
Well, then.
Next week: Did you know that if you look at the street plan of Philadelphia from underneath, it spells out the full text of Linda Lusardi’s Fat Bastard Gagbook (1985)?
Also: Is your penis SMALL? Learn how to make it S-M-A-L-L-E-R!
DAVID HADLEY said…
It is a terrible moment in a young man’s life when he first realises that absolutely nothing is funny.
WRONG!
That's as wrong as... as... wrong as an over-lubricated emperor penguin in a Swedish lesbian's boudoir.
It is precisely at the point when you find that 'absolutely nothing is funny' that you realise a whole new career path beckons and you set off to become a script-writer for ITV sit-coms.
THE MERKIN said…
I agree and disagree whilst respecting your right to remain silent go on tell us your inner feelings etc.
If you are in any doubt about your mirth-producing potential, try watching UKTV Gold 2 and realise that inane blogging about your bowel movements or neighbours cat is funnier than some of the regurgitated (normally ITV) crap thereon. Hitherto. Etc.
So, more tales of aardvarks, and less about penis reduction surgery (already achieved after following a link in my Hotmail account. I'm deeee-lighted with the results).
PS Your WORD VERIFICATION today was "innynoo". Is this a sign?
THE HUMANITY CRITIC said…
good post. Just passing through, cool blog.
SPINDLESHANKS said…
what about curb your enthusiasm - that's funny
TOASTY replied…
Nice to see you all lining up promptly again, chests out, shoulders back, knees dislocated, arches fallen, bunions inflamed, fine body of men, credit to the blog.
David, do try to keep up – I’m already writing an ITV sit-com, it’s called Nightscreen, funniest thing on ITV, goes out at rather an ungodly hour, bit of an acquired taste maybe but sure to become a cult, you wait and see. Check out those grammatical ‘errors’ – and I compose the ‘music’ too!
Spindleshanks – only when said in a menacing East European accent, surely?
Humanity Critic – thank you, and anyone who lists Bill Clinton as one of his interests is welcome in any gin-joint of mine.
Merkin, you have a new photograph (oho, you have to get up early in the morning to put one over on Toasty, oh yes). It is, as you doubtless planned, impossible for the reader to work out which one is you, but would you mind sharing the date of the picture, and the town or city where taken? I ask because the ‘ready-for-anything’-looking guy in the centre with the ciggie is the dead spit of one of my oldest cronies, who twenty years back was living much the same way Humanity Critic seems to be living now, as it happens.
I expectorate on your UKTV Gold 2, but so do you I imagine.
The meaning of ‘innynoo’ may not be revealed to those who are not in the Craft.
THE MERKIN said…
Toasty, you ever-expectorating fellow, the chap with the ciggie was universally known at the time as "Erik the Viking". The location is classified, but see if you can get it from the following clues:
1. The venue can be best described as The Eastgate Hotel, High Street, Oxford.
2. It's not in Africa.
Can you tell what it is yet? Oh, the year. Same time as Frances Ruffelle entered the Eurovision as the British entry singing "We Will be Free (Lonely Symphony)". We woz robbed - and came 10th, I seem to recall.
TOASTY replied…
Damn, ten years too late. (You probably still have all your own hair, teeth, limbs, etc., despite the company you keep.)
But remarkably enough – and this is true – the Eastgate Hotel was the first place I ever got drunk, and the person tipping it down me was my crony who looked exactly the same as your crony, and for whom ‘Erik the Viking’ would have been a vastly suitable name.
Maybe they keep cloning him in the basement.
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