The things you say. You’re unbelievable. Really though.
There are some things people say with utter relaxed conviction that are
remarkably offensive. To me. Like...
You: “Knock yourself out”
Me: “No. Really. You knock yourself out. I just wanted the empty chair sitting next to you.”
Or
You: “I’m a perfectionist.”
Me: “Oh, are you? That’s interesting. I’m a lazy fat
feckless arsehole whose response to pretty much anything is ‘yeah whatever –
that’ll do (burp/fart).”
Or
You: “Take care of yourself.”
Me: “Sorry? What? Thank you for your concern. I was going to
play dodgems at Bristol Airport but now, having spent some quality time with
you, I think in fact I’ll ‘take care of myself’ instead.” This is especially
shaftish given that it is normally uttered as you are leaving a
property/passing through some sort of threshold so that you don’t have time to
come up with a decent riposte like... “Shutyerface fatso” or something like
that. Also, it’s also unlikely anyone who you genuinely really like will say this to you. Beware. Be very. Ware.
Or
You: “Take it easy.”
Me: “Inappropriate. My wife has just been assaulted. (she
hasn’t, and I’m not married but she might and so might I - what does this
chafool know?) I think on balance ‘taking it easy’ is not the required response
right now. Going mental would probably be better. But thanks for your concern.
Take it easy m8.”
Or
You: “See you at the tech” (an actors' joke for when you’ve
done a read through of the script on the first day of rehearsals for a play. Still not making you laugh? Further explanation required - the "tech" referred to is the "technical rehearsal" where all the lights, sound and set are all co-ordinated at the end of the rehearsal process so that the show looks professional when it opens to the public. The joke is that after just one reading of the script, the actors are ready for the public, but of course, they're not!).
Me: “Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Or
You: “She’s a special
girl. You’re a lucky guy.”
Me: “I am, yes, in many ways. Firstly to be talking to you,
you recently divorced middle aged ‘silver fox’ leering all over my pregnant
girlfriend of twelve years, and secondly to have retained the affections, after
all this time, of someone whom without your timely reminder that she’s nice I
would treat like old oily rag in the bottom of a thing. Don’t know how I
managed before you sashayed along in your chinos. Thank heavens all round for
you.”
Or
You: “Fuckin A, man.”
Me: “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Or
You: “The thing about communism is that it’s a great idea
but it just doesn’t work. Look at what happened in
Russia.”
Me: “Wow. No, you’re absolutely right. That is a fascinating insight.
Or
You: “I don’t take no for an answer.”
Me: “Is that why you’re such a nice person?”
Or
Marc Bolan: “Life’s A Gas.”
Me: “No, it’s not – it’s deadly fucking serious. As The
Flaming Lips (I’m not actually a fan, no) correctly observed, “everyone you love,
one day will die.” The stakes are higher than a bit of fatuous gas...Mr Bolan.
There is intolerable pain around every corner (cancer, bereavement, divorce,
toothache), which is why we have to embrace life, live it to the full and laugh
whenever the opportunity genuinely presents it. Because, as you well know, life
is terrifyingly fleeting and when it’s over what awaits is an eternity of
nothing so please, let us not labour under the misapprehension that “life’s a
gas.” Rather it’s a tiny flickering flame on the end of an ever shortening
match stick, so highly strung though I might be, I’m going to take it seriously.
Me babba.”
