Ahh, TV.
The source of all wisdom. Probably. It was either this or the internet, which,
it is universally acknowledged, only really contains two things anyway; advertisements
and pornography. Ok, there is a third thing; Dail conceded. All of those
amazingly improbable pictures that would make people actually gasp out loud,
until they realised that they were likely to be the result of hours spent in
Photoshop with images of a baboon, the Eiffel Tower and a self-propelled rocket
launcher.
Advertisements;
they’re everywhere. What’s that on TV? A company that sells personalised
greeting cards. Called Moonpig?! A pig that lives on the moon? How does it
breathe? What does it eat?, Dail pontificated. Then a gasp as the sudden
realisation hit him.
“Where
does it go to the toilet?!”.
TV adverts
are not, decided Dail, a good source of inspiration. Maybe a children’s channel
will be. They’re full of mad things like talking sponges and animals that hang
around fairground rides aren’t they?
Hold on
for just one sheep-shearing second, maybe a children’s book is the answer! A
book for children! Yes! It could be about a pig that lives…on…the…
“Moon!”
yelped Dail, surprising even himself that the final word of that thought was
said out loud. It must have got lost whilst travelling between the part of his
brain that comes up with ideas and the part that evaluates them for worth;
before finding itself at The Mouth and then thinking ‘Well, I’m not asking for
directions… Oh well. Here will do’, assuming, that is, that thoughts could
think, which Dail didn’t think they could. This hurt Dail’s thoughts feelings
and led to a mild headache that would follow him around for the rest of the
day, jumping out from behind the sofa and yelling “boo” when he least suspected
it to achieve maximum effect.
Oh yeah,
children’s book, Dail recalled. Ok, maybe not a pig that lives on the moon.
Various flaws with that lifestyle have already been brought into light. Damn
you, advertising companies. You’ve beaten me again with your somewhat less than
adequate inspirational qualities. Freestyle a possible beginning to a book…
“There
once was an elf called Billy.
Billy
was not an elf.
The
end.”
...It’s a
cautionary tale.
Maybe I
could write my own encyclopaedia. Facts that no-one knew. Because you made them
up; that’s why no-one knew them, Dail grinned to himself. ‘The Lion King is actually set in Holland, which, contrary to common belief, is not
part of The Netherlands.’ No way, no-one would believe that. If Stephen
Fry said it they would believe it, though. Maybe I could put his name on the
book. Loads of authors use a nom de plume, so would it really be that bad if I
just happened to accidentally choose one that was the same as that of a
national treasure?
Ok, maybe
it could be that bad; an idea that is
fraught with silliness. The public backlash could potentially be gargantuan,
concluded Dail. Possibly a joke book? But alas, you are rubbish at jokes. Then
perhaps a book that’s full of punch-lines? Leave the hard work to the reader.
Quick! Write down the first ones that come into your head. Bums! No paper!
Paper plates, that will do (why do I have so many of these?!). Maybe if you get
it published you could get it done on paper plates. Then it would be funny and practical. ‘Jokes so good you can eat your dinner off them.’ Ok, seriously now;
punch-lines.
-
… But it turns out that orangutans can’t
even play the tuba!
- … They found Kevin Keegan three days
later, dancing on a table in the KFC in Camden in nothing but his boxers and a
pirates eye-patch.
- … Tuesdays would never be the same.
- … Monica Lewinsky.
These are
crap! Comedy poison! Bleurgh. The only worse idea than this to have been farted
into existence must have been when you decided that two Terry’s Chocolate
Orange’s could be comfortably eaten in less than 10 minutes without any conceivably
ill-fated consequences, reminisced Dail, somewhat bitterly. Ok, don’t try and
force the idea, it has to be natural. Just let it flow. To The Toilet!
