I can tell I’m not a bad boy because I can’t swear properly. My potty mouth is very unconvincing. Slumming aristos come to mind when I make up my mind to be rude out loud.
It’s like that episode of Miranda where she realises that she is middle class because she can’t say the word “sex”, she can only make a nasally under-the-breath “thehx” noise. Incidentally, my MA tutor is the only real person I know who does this. And he doesn’t have the excuse of being semi-fictional. I also know I am not a bad boy because when I get angry with someone I spend the next week apologising.
Although I do like to be controversial in my seminars. We were having a heavy-duty debate about Michel Foucault, when I asked “What would Foucault have made of Simon Cowell?”
Our tutor looked up, sneered and said, “He would probably have tried to fuck him”.
I was shocked. “Wash your potty mouth out” I wanted to say, “You’re meant to be an adult”.
Lisa: “I’ve just come up with part of a song:
“I’ve got fifteen fingers and I’m already dead”.
We wait for more.
“That’s it so far. It’s kind of a song about Chernobyl survivors,” she adds.
“Maybe it’s best to leave people guessing the meaning,” says Esther diplomatically.
Latest news overheard when half drunk (so not verifiable), ”snoods and legwarmers have been banned for footballers”.
Esther has decided that she is a “stress dyslexic”. This means that she is normally competent with language (yeah right!) but then when she becomes anxious, she stops being able to read and write properly.
Esther has also decided that I am a “stress autistic” because when I’m under pressure I lose my empathy and spend hours obsessively working out pathetic puns.
I think that the symptoms of autism are the same as those of masculinity: selfishness, lack of emotional expression, obsession with details and collecting stuff. And 90+% of all the autistic people I’ve worked with have been male.
I got the fear last night that maybe I was autistic and everyone knew it apart from me. I got a cold sweat for a bit and then got distracted by Embarrassing Illnesses. It is the best opportunity to see nipples at the moment, without having to turn over whenever Esther comes in. It is on her list of acceptable TV programmes.
Note to self: I’ve never read the bible- perhaps I should? Everyone is always banging on about it, killers in films are always quoting it, and men in the street are always shouting about it.
Tasteless Joke no. 1:
Japanese man: “Ha! Just try and fight me! You and whose army?!”
God of weather: “Me and Tsunami, that’s who!”
I think this joke needs some more tweaking personally.