LAUGH? I NEARLY DIED

I have always believed in the power of humour, whether satire or farce.  The sharpest of knives is comedy in debunking, clarifying and fumigating.  Which leads me to Ireland and to the “troubles” which always sounded more like a tummy bug than the carnage which saw 3,500 people slaughtered in the latter part of the 20th century. At the time I was running a salesforce. One of my salesman in Northern Ireland said conversationally to me:

“I was Just about to make a call on the House of Frazer when there was a great whoomph sound and the windows blew out, glass and blood everywhere”

“My God” I said, “that’s terrible. What did you do?”

“I strolled down the road and went to call on Woolworth instead.”

My sense of the troubles from this was that people got on with it however terrible things were. More recently  I visited Belfast which felt like going to Berlin, modern architecture, trendy bars and restaurants. The reality a decade before had been tragic – or farcical - depending on how you see things.

Last week we saw “The Lieutenant of Inishmore” by Martin McDonagh.  It first appeared in the West End in 2001 and Broadway in 2006. Back then it must have touched some raw nerves – the Good Friday agreement had only been signed in 1998. Martin has a rip roaring reputation for black comedy and drama. His most recent triumph is writing and directing the award winning film “T.”

The Lieutenant of Inishmore is set in 1993 as IRA violence was revving up. In a nutshell the play is a non-stop farce culminating with a stage covered by four corpses, three of whom are partially dismembered and two dead cats. It includes some gruesome onstage torture – the pulling out of toenails and planning the next outrage “which is your favourite nipple? I’ll be kind - tell me and I’ll only cut the other one off.”

Its roller-coaster hilarity springs from the behaviour of Mad Padraig whose behaviour is too violent for the IRA and subsequently too much for its offshoot the INLA. He makes even Iago look civilised. Knowing there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, his dewy eyed sentimentality about Wee Willy his pet cat creates the contrast and unpredictability between brutality and tenderness that makes for such uneasy laughter. In a situation where three men being blinded by an airgun-carrying teenage girl brought the house down, you have to admit that’s a cool theatrical trick being flaunted. And you also have to admit the overreaction, beastliness and clumsy inanity of everyone in the cast indelibly suggests the absurdity of conflict and violence especially when the cause of it all is a misunderstanding. Desdemona’s
hanky is Padraig’s black cat. And cats are funny in the way hankies aren’t.

It’s reframes our understanding of those troubles and like all great plays has us always on tenterhooks. It’s a masterpiece. It’s also very, very funny.

"DO YOU THINK I'VE GOT TOURETTES?" He shouted angrily

A friend of nine asked me this after confessing to an irrepressible desire to shout abuse at the complacent Michael Gove on TV decrying the value of experts. I told him that at our age we get everything. If I forget something it’s an early sign of dementia, a cough is lung cancer, breathlessness a heart attack. We are doomed. We are all going to die…sooner or later.

“Happy Christmas to you too” I hear you mutter.

But relax I’m as optimistic about the glorious comedy of life as I’ve ever been. The stuff that happens enthrals me. Like my increasing habit of self-debate walking down the street having an argument with my own stupidity. Don’t worry they think I’m on my mobile talking to someone rather nasty.

And recently the madness intensified. I was explaining to my wife as we drove in Brighton in that rather loud, patronising voice I adopt when talking about current affairs. I said Southern Rail management had an agenda in the current dispute vis a vis the RMT and Aslef which was to kill the Unions.

“Why - what have they got to do with this?” she asked
I was a bit irritated and said “well it’s mostly their fault”.
“What exactly have the Indians done wrong?”
“Indians … what Indians?”

Perhaps I had said “Indians” not “Unions”- perhaps I was going mad. But let’s face it being a man I was likely to get much more ill than my wife. Recent research proves man-flu is really serious and that viruses seek out men rather than women.

As I drink another glass of claret and metaphorically smoke a Cuban cigar I reflect on a misspent life of calories and carcinogenic substances and the rather depressing comment made by a friend:- “nowadays I spend most of my life crossing out those who’ve died in my address book.”

Come on. We’re living longer and healthier than ever. And this is going to get better as medical science develops faster and as new generations of young people drink less (not just less but massively less), scarcely smoke at all, or use drugs (it’s older people who are mumbling “peace” and falling into flower beds). Mind you there’s less sex going on too. People are too busy for nonsense like that.

Yet in this youthful world the “old” still own the “hot-seats.” In the USA 40% of Trump’s cabinet are at or over retirement age and 60% are over 60. They are also, with one exception, white which is really strange given the country they serve.

Tourettes? Well it may be our only defence in a breath-taking world where the latest gor-blimey has been Trump’s refusal to accept evidence of Russian hacking. Post-truth has now developed into post-evidence.

I was recently watching“Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium” on TV. Dustin Hoffman said this:
“Life’s an occasion - make sure you live up to it.”

I’ll try Dustin but it isn’t easy.

WHAT AN AMAZING STORY THIS IS

From Eastleigh to Beppe Grillo in Italy to the Vatican shenanigans the script has twisted with turns and oddities. Life is increasingly a comedy.

A friend of mine described joining a group of singers to go and perform in at old people’s homes. They bounded in singing the Sondheim lyrics:
“Something familiar,
Something peculiar,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!”

An old man in a wheel chair shouted “why don’t you just shut up and go home – I hate this!”

Bet he was a UKIP Member, talking of which have you looked at their manifesto?
Now I’m going to be unfairly selective but in essence it’s 75 parts anti-immigration and anti-Europe – the “they-come-over-here-and-take-our-jobs” party – and 25 parts ant:i

• Global warming warnings, 
• Employers National Insurance Contributions, 
• the ban on smoking and hunting.

And it’s pro-defence, wanting a 40% increase.

But Nigel Farage is hugely entertaining (for as long as he lasts because UKIP has had, in the past 20 years, no fewer than eight leaders.)

We British love whingeing and saying “and another thing”.

We were really pissed off that the Olympics was a success. We hate bankers but hate the EU limiting their bonuses even more. We blame the Romanians, Turks, French and any Johnny foreigners for horse meat contamination and anything else we dislike.

The influx of foreign wealth is driving UKIP and their followers insane. One Hyde Park – the Candy brothers London development (with apartments selling on average at around £20 million (although you can top £150 million if you really go for it) has been snapped up by a cocktail party of Ukranian, Nigerian, Russian, Taiwanese and Malaysian plutocrats.

But I love influxes of wealth. It feels like the Renaissance. Anyway would you want to live here?

The ranters are currently having a field day with the NHS, our schools, young people…..bah humbug – to hell in a handcart…

Our divine scriptwriter is on a roll. Private Eye can’t keep up. But there’s one issue that I predict will gain momentum (and enrage UKIP) the increasing campaign against alcohol. The banning of smoking slipped in and was, despite forebodings, immediately embraced – it’s time was right. And doesn’t smoking look old fashioned now?

Next stop booze. We’ll be like California. “Two glasses of wine? Are you some crazy, out-of-control alcoholic?”  You read it here first.

I’d be in favour just to tease Jeremy Clarkson.

And a 20mph speed limit – that’s already here in Brighton as of the end of March.

Life really is a comedy and I love it.


www.colourfulthinkers.com