Photo from Facebook
I was once asked by a psychiatrist about the possibility of losing one element of your life and which element would be the most upsetting to lose. She didn't mean the ability to walk or talk or anything serious like that, she was actually referring to a particular 'thing' that gives you enjoyment (don't be disgusting) and what thing would be the worst thing to lose. It was based on waking up one morning having lost that part of your brain that supplies that enjoyment while you were asleep. It might sound complicated but I admit that I haven't explained it very well.
Imagine you love knitting. You live for knitting and you wear your creations with pride, be it a jumper, cardigan or scarf. One morning you wake up, have breakfast, shower, turn on the radio and settle down in your favourite chair with your knitting bag by your side and then realise with a feeling of unease that you can't be bothered with the whole knitting thing. What makes it worse for you is that this isn't a memory wipe, it might not be so bad if that was the case because all you would experience is a slight bewilderment that your house contains a knitting bag and an inordinate amount of wool, but you suddenly don't enjoy it. Is that any clearer?
It happened with me and football. I was at one point a big lover of the game and knew pretty much every fact and figure to a John Motson level of obsessiveness. As a Middlesbrough supporter (I don't even know if they're still going or if they are, what league they're in) I even used to collect every copy of the pink supplement. That isn't gay speak for something, The Evening Gazette used to (and might still do for all I know) produce a newspaper on pink paper that came out almost as soon as the final whistle went. In the days before the Internet this was an amazing achievement as it contained full match analysis and photographs, even from away games - how the hell did they do that without email? Anyway, I had loads of copies of this paper along with a head full of knowledge. I can't pinpoint the exact day it happened, but I was watching a match when I realised that I wasn't bothered. During an England match in the 2004 World Cup, I walked out of the pub halfway through because I just couldn't be arsed with it. At first I was sad but I got over it.
My two great loves are of course comedy and music (in joint first place) so to suddenly not want to listen to music anymore would be devastating to me, especially new music or even worse, live music. Comedy would be just as sad a thing to lose, but not as sad as something else; my love of the ridiculous. If I could make a living from ridiculousness then I would knock radio, podcasting, writing, journalism and everything else on the head.
When an idea strikes me as funny (but not in a 'ha-ha' kind of way) I see it through to the end until I have strangled every last breath of life from it, and when it is dead at my feet I pick it up and carry on. I don't do it because I think that whatever I have done is still funny, but because the continued repetition of tired humour is, to me at least, even funnier. For example, if Mandi tells me she bought something in the pound shop I will always, and I mean always, ask her how much it was. It isn't the joke itself that's funny but her reaction. If we are walking past our local garage and we need to buy something I will always sing "T-E-S-C-O" to the tune of the popular floor filler 'D.I.S.C.O.' by Ottawan. I even have my own words:
"T- buy some tea bags
E- get some eggs (you have to elongate it to 'eh-eh-ggs')
S - bag of sugar
C - get a coconut
OOOOOOO-range-juice"
I am quite a catch eh ladies? You're thinking how lucky Mandi is because I do that every time. Every time. Mandi used to laugh at it, and the fact that our local Tesco garage doesn't even sell coconuts.
One of my comedy heroes is Richard Herring and I have taken a lot of inspiration from him with regards the DIY approach to my work and even the idea to write a daily blog in order to combat writer's block. Fans of his may be aware of his podcast series Me1 vs Me2 Snooker in which he plays a snooker match against himself as two different versions of himself. This began as a quirky thing to do on Twitter one night on tour when he found a snooker table in his dressing room and tweeted him playing against himself. Finding an idea for a series, he went to the trouble of buying a snooker table for his house in order to carry out the plan. Herring also provides a service in which he retweets every football related tweet from Alan Sugar and any praise that Richard Dawkins has retweeted. This is the man who wins Twitter every International Woman's Day by one posting thousands of variation of the same message. It is the sheer joy of time wasting that makes these stunts so entertaining (to those of us with the patience). My own contributions are the two blogs I occasionally add to, A Plate Full of Skittles and Badly Painted Disney Characters on Ice Cream Vans, which could be the things I enjoy doing the most even though they are the projects of mine that attract the least attention, and that is combined figures. My crisp reports are also something I enjoy doing too, as I like to thing I am providing a consumer service but all I do is clutter up Twitter.
This is why you should be contributing to the PayPal account, aside from using your money sensibly to make films and stuff, I would be able (if a lot of you made regular payments) to draw a modest wage and dedicate my life to crisps, Skittles, and ice cream vans. It would also give me the time to devote to my often overlooked career as Nottingham's premier kazoo player. My kazoo obsession is another case in point, as I said yesterday the chance to book a huge venue just for a kazoo recital that hardly anyone went to would be better than selling the place out because if it becomes a success then the joke doesn't work.
Today though, I discovered something that knocks all of my attempts at conceptual art into a cocked hat. There is a Facebook page called, (and I have hyperlinked it as proof) The Same Photo of Jim Carrey Every Day. What this page does, would you believe, is post the same photograph of the comedian Jim Carrey every day. The phrase 'it does exactly what it says on the tin' wore a little thin when first adopted from the advert but never has an expression been so apt, the same photograph of Jim Carrey every day with no other postings on that page. Whoever came up with this should be handed the keys to Facebook because he/she has won it. This is an idea I wish I had thought of because it is beautiful in its simplicity and uselessness. Even the choice of person is somehow inspired as Jim Carrey is neither a huge superstar nor faded 'where is he now?' type of film actor, he is simply someone who is always there and we can't imagine life without him. Part of the reason it is a good thing that I didn't think of this is the task of coming up with the person to pay this bizarre tribute to. I would have got this concept wrong by choosing a deliberately ironic celebrity name such as Andi Peters, Jim Bowen, Reg Varney or some such nostalgia based cheesiness and that would have spoiled things.
Incidentally, a few people have asked if I am behind this page but I have to say with sadness that I am not and for that I will forever be sorry.
The Sunday Alternative Podcast #43 (Saturday edition) is available from here.
The Sunday Alternative Podcast #44 is available from here.
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June housekeeping
The audio book of Bowie Day (a short story inspired by A Christmas Carol) will be released on August 31st. In the meantime the book can be downloaded to your Kindle from here.
All donations made using the PayPal button will go towards making podcasts, comedy sketches, live video sessions, documentaries, short films and more that will be made available online for free.
The Sunday Alternative bag and t-shirt (and other products) can be purchased from my shop page. All money raised will go into the fund to create free content.
steveEoliver@gmail.com
