For heaven’s sake, you fun busters…
It’s about the style of the humour!
If you do not care for it…then look
way!
Or turn your computer off!
Are we- in this day and age- still
arguing over the validity or otherwise of smutty humour?
These, of course, are the same people
who protest gay marriage.
Because it is ‘dirty’.
Involves 'toilet parts'.
Some find it more relaxing to understand alternative lifestyle choices...
And dispel any uncertainties they might have about these behaviours by laughing at them.
Lampooing even the absurdity of opposition to 'what goes where' by holding it under the spotlight to laugh about it...to the point where it ceases to be a monster!
Healthy toilet humour.
The sort of humour Eddie Hitler and
Ritchie Rich popularised for my generation.
They were by no means the first; but they are my favourite.
Finally...a chance to bring this out in the open.
(oo-er)
Bear in mind…we here in the colonies
are not as fortunate as you.
Some of us have been weaned on the UK variety of smutty humour from 'Benny Hill', to 'Carry On' right up to 'The Fat
Slags'…but this is the first time in history many of us have had the
opportunity to share some sense of camaraderie with others conditioned & shaped by the same ribald socialisation.
Our ‘unsentimental education’, if you will.
See…in Australia, your bawdy code of
anarchic humour always bordered on the cultish; it was NEVER
what you would call ‘mainstream’.
I can’t comment on the impact it had
on Britain in socio-cultural terms- I would have to ask someone who
lived through that time in history- but for us, it was always on the 'fringe'.
So generally speaking, you had to search pretty hard for a lifetime to find people cut from the same earthy cloth.
In the early days, of course, ‘Young Ones’ was a monster hit- mostly
among the young.
Uni students.
‘Filthy Rich & Catflap’ fell
flat.
Why?
The groaning fatigue of the nob, tit, ass
& toilet gags?
Possibly.
But I think it was more to do with the references.
Wicksy Willis.
Gordon Honeycombe.
Anne Diamond.
Sue Lawley.
No fucking idea whatsoever. And without google in those days...
We knew what a tit and a bum was...but any Aussie who got past the opening credits was usually out in the cold with the British cultural references pretty quickly.
These days- I have been able to find out who these people are with the help of the Internet.
But frankly with the benefit of hindsight…i'm not sure not knowing mattered to me much.
I did not know WHO they were talking about…
But I did understand WHAT they were talking about.
"Filthy Rich & Catflap" might have seemed like a string of nob and poo jokes...
But it was always more than that.
It was a scathing assault on the absurdity of fame.
In a nutshell.
(With a lot of poo and nob gags to hammer the point home.)
And I loved it; although most Australians will tell you they ‘never saw that one’.
Sad…because for mine, it was amongst their best work.
‘Bottom’ was somewhere between the two in terms of appeal.
The ‘Bottom’ boys never toured OZ…
Probably because most of OZ did not get them.
Was it the crude, rude and unrefined humour?
Hardly likely! In the colonies? Down under, where men are men, and sheep are NOT nervous 'cos they are used to it??
I don't think so.
Closer to the truth- there was an
undeniable higher brow at work behind the scenes of this comedy.
Nudge nudge wink wink indeed.
These boys were educated.
Not only steeped in British comic
history (I always felt sequences in the drawing room in 'Breakfast Television' owed a lot more to Hancock's 'Bed Sit' episode than was rightly acknowledged), not to mention well versed in classic comic structure and timing, their stuff was quite simply written by well educated, iintelligent fellows.
There were intellectual shoulders
behind that poo bat.
I could sense it. But this always left most Aussies cold.
We are direct, down to earth, in your
face people, for the most part; and we hate
people having a lend of us.
There was something about the new wave
of British anarchic humour that many simply did not trust. Like a toff nudging us about cocks and
tits…all the while snickering at us behind
our backs.
We as a nation might have been right not to trust it.
You might have been conditioning me like a lab rat with massive doses of boorish indelicacy, in order to watch me stumble like a child with an obesity problem.
Unable to find my willy...but well able to joke about it.
I am not going to speculate on where
this humour comes from; to make a living from it takes guts, always
having to be on the guard for those who do not get it.
It's hard enough treating it as a hobby.
The Fundamental Christian Fun Buster vehemently opposed to the humour of the lavvy may well be right. I may go to hell for my humour.
But I will continue to have trouble caring...well into my 40's.
Some of us clearly took to it like
a duck to water- and never grew out of it.
And I’m not certain I ever want to.
Why?
Bad toilet training?
I’m not a psychologist…nor do I care to
be.
Or care why.
It hits me on some level I don't have to understand.
And having something I don't have to analyse in my arsenal is a rarity.
I have a mind that thinks too much.
And it is a treat to not have to think for the duration of an ep of 'Bottom', or 90 mins of 'Carry On'.
So I’m not even going to venture an
opinion.
I just love it.
Right now, I am thinking with great
pleasure and nostalgia about loading 'Carry On Camping' the way some
people think of a punt down the river.
It gives me a warm feeling about
something I like…
Something pleasurable in a chaotic
world.
As if it was somewhere I lived…
A time I lived in…
Even though...like an Ealing comedy…I
suspect it never really did actually exist...
Except in someone’s mind.
I like it in my mind.
All the glorious smut.
The nod, nudge and wink of the double
entendre.
The pleasure of being able to say
‘OO-ER WHAT A BIGGUN!'
& the unspoken camaraderie of
knowing someone gets it.
Gets you.
And you get them.
Like a not so subtle secret handshake.
A club,
IN THE CLUB!!
From Barbara Windsor’s tits, to Mrs
Slocombe’s pussy.
And what a joyful club it is!
As the man said, ‘to us, the toilet
is a mundane and functional item. To you, it is the basis of an
entire culture'. Indeed it is. Or at least...seemed to be.
It was either smut, or H.E. Bates.
And we...well, I...lapped it up.
OO-ER.
Can you imagine how good I felt, when I
met another human being on the Internet who knew- and LIKED ‘Filthy
Rich and Catflap?
Oh, what a joyous day of pomp and
pageantry that was!
It was like finding my people.
My long lost tribe.
So I hope you will understand the
enthusiasm with which I embrace my UK cousins with this comic
tradition as a basis for bonding.
We will get onto other topics, anon.
No one can talk about his cock
forever…not even me.
It is why I am here.
I have mostly American and Australian friends.
But I was wishing I had more UK friends
to talk about share these things with.
This I found- in the Boring Group.
I am aware of the thoughts and feelings
of other who might be ‘offended’ by this comic conditioning…&
I would be a prick not to take them into account.
This is why I write this letter.
And if you are bitterly offended…I refer you to Stephen Fry- who was not
unknown to talk about bums and tits- & his thoughts on the
matter.
Also…if you are offended beyond all
redemption…try to bear in mind also…the Internet now affords we
Aussies the chance to finally exercise our smut muscles to others who
may have enjoyed the same brand of humour as we do.
To judge us for the tick we have
developed over time- as a direct result of the humour YOU exported to
us in the colonies- is akin to the US targeting the same Alcaeeda
troops today that it trained decades ago in the art of terror tactics.
It’s a little
disingenuous.
I will exercise some restraint…if you
will exercise some understanding.
Of the monsters YOU have created- in
the grand old tradition of British cultural hegemony and supremacy.
You colonised us with your smut.
Please don’t judge us for liking it
so much.
Or stay away from we who do happen to like our
naughty upbringing.
;0
