Funny Looks
Funny Looks ©
By
Michael Casey
As ever I did not know what to write about today, then I had a thought, or maybe two, rub them together like sticks then you get a spark and then a fire. Which you all spit at and quench, making me feel sad. And so it goes, and so it goes. So Funny Looks is today’s piece, and yes I can see you all giving the screen funny looks. What’s he on about today, I can never understand him, I think he’s on drugs. Well I do take plenty of paracetamol at times and Movelat stops me from screaming in pain on occasions. But they are not the kind of medicines that make me “trip”, I’m just very retentive, if it’s gone in my head then I’m not releasing it. I may release it 50 years later, and that’s when I get the funny looks.
I was in the shop just a while a go when a nice lady carrying her dog like a handbag was talking gas, no she wasn’t giving me a funny look and wondering was it me or her handbag dog that had passed gas. No, she was on about Gas companies. So I said put a jumper on, and save on your gas bill, or feed your husband 1/2 cold food.
The girl behind the counter looked on, then I remembered a tale, or was it the dog’s tail wagging that reminded me. We emptied the corner cupboard of all the jumpers and put them on my little sister who went redder and redder. Her arms stayed out at right angles from her body, we thought it was great fun. Mum came home and said we’d kill the child, this is what happens when you are number 6 in the pecking order. It was maybe 1966. And the lady behind the counter gave me a look, she did not think it was funny.
That’s the trouble with telling tales in public, especially as my new local area haven’t got used to me yet. People are busy and aren’t listening so can mishear or misunderstand what you are saying, then you do get funny looks. The trouble with Wit is that it’s fast and if people are too busy to listen it kills the joke. Back in 1970 in gym class I made a witty comment, Mr Ely said what, so I said a witty comment Sir, Terry O’Callahan said “a S—y comment” and HE was whacked with the pump. So Terry made a face, and now 50 years on he remembers it. So Wit costs, he became an accountant and later changed into a History teacher, if I remember rightly, I haven’t seen him in 20 years. He looks like an Irish Folk singer with a beard.
So with that track record of causing pain, no wonder I get funny looks. Timing is so important too, not just the comic timing, but the time and place for everything. No jokes at a Funeral, or you’ll really get funny looks, which reminds me of another true story. I actually put this in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker as material. Dad was walking up the road outside the undertakers when a beer wagon went over a crushed cola can sending it spinning and it hit the undertaker’s son on the leg. He fell flat on his back in pain.
Another beer wagon was coming the opposite direction, it would have run over and killed the undertaker’s son who was laid out I the road. Only my dad was there and dragged him out of the way, saving his life. A few day’s later the undertaker’s son pointed my dad out to the undertaker. He was the man, so the undertaker shook dad’s hand in thanks. To which dad replied well flowers are dear making the 2 undertakers laugh. So comic timing is everything. There is a Brexit like codicil to this tale. When dad died in 2002, the undertaker made sure that dad looked his absolute best, it was the least he could do. In fact dad looked so good in his coffin he looked like his own brother Johnny from Ash Grove Cricklewood.
I hope you don’t get too many funny looks or odd looks, or rolls of the eyes. Just warm smiles of expectation, and not because you look pregnant fat like me. Now go and put the dinner on its2.30pm you don’t want your family to mutiny, or you could just dial for a pizza.
By
Michael Casey
As ever I did not know what to write about today, then I had a thought, or maybe two, rub them together like sticks then you get a spark and then a fire. Which you all spit at and quench, making me feel sad. And so it goes, and so it goes. So Funny Looks is today’s piece, and yes I can see you all giving the screen funny looks. What’s he on about today, I can never understand him, I think he’s on drugs. Well I do take plenty of paracetamol at times and Movelat stops me from screaming in pain on occasions. But they are not the kind of medicines that make me “trip”, I’m just very retentive, if it’s gone in my head then I’m not releasing it. I may release it 50 years later, and that’s when I get the funny looks.
I was in the shop just a while a go when a nice lady carrying her dog like a handbag was talking gas, no she wasn’t giving me a funny look and wondering was it me or her handbag dog that had passed gas. No, she was on about Gas companies. So I said put a jumper on, and save on your gas bill, or feed your husband 1/2 cold food.
The girl behind the counter looked on, then I remembered a tale, or was it the dog’s tail wagging that reminded me. We emptied the corner cupboard of all the jumpers and put them on my little sister who went redder and redder. Her arms stayed out at right angles from her body, we thought it was great fun. Mum came home and said we’d kill the child, this is what happens when you are number 6 in the pecking order. It was maybe 1966. And the lady behind the counter gave me a look, she did not think it was funny.
That’s the trouble with telling tales in public, especially as my new local area haven’t got used to me yet. People are busy and aren’t listening so can mishear or misunderstand what you are saying, then you do get funny looks. The trouble with Wit is that it’s fast and if people are too busy to listen it kills the joke. Back in 1970 in gym class I made a witty comment, Mr Ely said what, so I said a witty comment Sir, Terry O’Callahan said “a S—y comment” and HE was whacked with the pump. So Terry made a face, and now 50 years on he remembers it. So Wit costs, he became an accountant and later changed into a History teacher, if I remember rightly, I haven’t seen him in 20 years. He looks like an Irish Folk singer with a beard.
So with that track record of causing pain, no wonder I get funny looks. Timing is so important too, not just the comic timing, but the time and place for everything. No jokes at a Funeral, or you’ll really get funny looks, which reminds me of another true story. I actually put this in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker as material. Dad was walking up the road outside the undertakers when a beer wagon went over a crushed cola can sending it spinning and it hit the undertaker’s son on the leg. He fell flat on his back in pain.
Another beer wagon was coming the opposite direction, it would have run over and killed the undertaker’s son who was laid out I the road. Only my dad was there and dragged him out of the way, saving his life. A few day’s later the undertaker’s son pointed my dad out to the undertaker. He was the man, so the undertaker shook dad’s hand in thanks. To which dad replied well flowers are dear making the 2 undertakers laugh. So comic timing is everything. There is a Brexit like codicil to this tale. When dad died in 2002, the undertaker made sure that dad looked his absolute best, it was the least he could do. In fact dad looked so good in his coffin he looked like his own brother Johnny from Ash Grove Cricklewood.
I hope you don’t get too many funny looks or odd looks, or rolls of the eyes. Just warm smiles of expectation, and not because you look pregnant fat like me. Now go and put the dinner on its2.30pm you don’t want your family to mutiny, or you could just dial for a pizza.
Published
