I love Twitter, and not because I do a show about it (I don't, not any more). It's because it's full of friendly people and feels like a genuine community. Yesterday I asked a question about syntax, and within seconds I'd received dozens of helpful answers. Today I asked for people's favourite jokes, and here are the ones (some old, some offbeat) which made me laugh the most:
@StuartSJones: Did you hear about the guy who was run over by a steam train? He was chuffed to bits!
@matbird: What is Amy Winehouse's favourite tube station? High Barnet!
@Monkiimagic: Why are Pirates called Pirates?..... because they Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghh
@jamesjml: 'Doctor, I can't stop singing Delilah'. "That sounds like Tom Jones syndrome." 'Is it common?' "It's not unusual."
@stefanoborini: so there's a little mouse that sees a bat. Runs back to its mommy: "mommy mommy, I've seen an angel".
@brfuk: So, a new zoo has opened up in town. Paid it a quick visit, disappointing! They only had one animal. It was a shitzu.
@biteshard: Did you hear about the award winning scarecrow? He was outstanding in his field.
@benparkatBJS: How do you make a snooker table laugh? Put your hands in its pockets and tickle its balls.
@BoforsGun: "Two elephants fall off a cliff, boom boom!"
@BigDaveSB: Who's the coolest guy in a hospital? The ultrasound guy. And when's he's on holiday? Well, then it's the hip replacement guy
@elainepixie: Two peanuts were walking down the street. One was a salted.
@thisismadeup: Q: how many psychotherapists does it take to change a lightbulb? A: It is the lightbulb that must change itself.
@LauraSwinton: (Scottish accent required) Three cows in a field, which one's on holiday? The one with the wee calf.
Physics jokes which I wish I got:
@maireadetoile: Heisenberg is pulled over by the police. "Do you know how fast you were going?" "No, but I know where I am."
@bellekitten: A physicist walks into an H-bar...
Lawyer jokes which I do get:
@WorldOfChris: Man to a lawyer: What are your rates? £100 for three questions. That's a lot isn't it? I don't think so, what's your third question?
@jtmahony: What do you call 500 lawyers on the moon? A good start
And lastly:
@daveaisling: So I went to the dentist. He said "Say Aaah." I said "Why?" He said "My dog's died.'"
Feel free to leave more in the comments...
Monday, April 12, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
GNews140 - Not Seven Scores Of Wildebeest
I really like my new project. It's my first time presenting, and is a show on guardian.co.uk about Twitter, called GNews140:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/series/gnews140
I've been writing it with Graham, which is a lot of fun. Presenting is a new experience: I have been dubbed "an android having mated with Charlie Brooker" and "a dead-eyed ingenue". Which is interesting, as I really enjoy performing, and was just trying not to look cheesy. I thought that maybe, if I didn't smile too much, I wouldn't look like a children's TV presenter. But apparently I look like a reanimated corpse instead, which is much cooler. GNews140 can be the first show with an audience which predominantly comprises necrophiles.
To anyone who loves Twitter, reading tweets and writing jokes around them for a living sounds almost idyllic and childlike, like being a chocolate-taster or a games tester. And in the best moments, it is a bit like that, because I'm working on comedy with people I really like, for my favourite newspaper - but it's also seriously hard work and lots of it, because each show is only 140 seconds long and has to be as tight and punchy as possible. Filming is nervewracking, partly because I'm completely new to presenting, and also because I keep inadvertently writing tongue-twisting phrases (try saying "impressively prolific infidelity" fast three times!).
But hopefully you'll enjoy it, and it'll get stronger and better as we go on. (And my wardrobe will only get bluer - it's starting to look like a Tory wife's, which is disconcerting.) Please do let me know what you think of it (er, the video, not my wardrobe) - any tips on what you'd like to see/not see in the next show would be much appreciated.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/series/gnews140
I've been writing it with Graham, which is a lot of fun. Presenting is a new experience: I have been dubbed "an android having mated with Charlie Brooker" and "a dead-eyed ingenue". Which is interesting, as I really enjoy performing, and was just trying not to look cheesy. I thought that maybe, if I didn't smile too much, I wouldn't look like a children's TV presenter. But apparently I look like a reanimated corpse instead, which is much cooler. GNews140 can be the first show with an audience which predominantly comprises necrophiles.
To anyone who loves Twitter, reading tweets and writing jokes around them for a living sounds almost idyllic and childlike, like being a chocolate-taster or a games tester. And in the best moments, it is a bit like that, because I'm working on comedy with people I really like, for my favourite newspaper - but it's also seriously hard work and lots of it, because each show is only 140 seconds long and has to be as tight and punchy as possible. Filming is nervewracking, partly because I'm completely new to presenting, and also because I keep inadvertently writing tongue-twisting phrases (try saying "impressively prolific infidelity" fast three times!).
But hopefully you'll enjoy it, and it'll get stronger and better as we go on. (And my wardrobe will only get bluer - it's starting to look like a Tory wife's, which is disconcerting.) Please do let me know what you think of it (er, the video, not my wardrobe) - any tips on what you'd like to see/not see in the next show would be much appreciated.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Happy New Nothing
Hello to over 100 people! (Not 'hello to people over 100' - I'm not sure anyone in this category signed up for updates, though if you did, then hello to you too and well done on being so technologically savvy/unarthritic.) To everyone else, thank you for signing up on the right of this sentence. It makes my small malfunctioning heart feel warm every time I see the number go up.
A very belated Happy New Year. If you made any New Year's resolutions, here's why you shouldn't have:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/jan/01/new-years-resolutions1
and even though I did last year and it worked (a special prize to anyone who can remember what it was, given that I deleted the post) I maintain for some reason that my overall point is valid.
I currently have a small problem, which is that I write my best pieces when I'm troubled or discontented. At the moment I'm broadly happy, which means the wryness which stems from fury and general disconsolation just isn't there. I'm desperately grasping around for stuff to write about in my own life which won't make people reach for a bucket, but there doesn't seem to be any. (And, although this lack of inspiration is rather dispiriting in itself, it isn't dispiriting enough to inspire me, if that makes any sense.) Any tips on how to fix this ("Just slash your wrists, Ariane!") would be much appreciated.
In other news, I'm still writing Guardian columns, just finished a feature for the Independent on Sunday, and am currently working on a new show as a presenter, co-writing the script with my best friend Graham Nunn. I've never done any presenting before, and have been given advice by friends to "be more natural" and "exaggerate more". Surely I can't do both? Anyhow, I've been told a million times not to exaggerate...
Lastly, I'm a bit bored with talking about me. So can we talk about you instead please? What have you all been up to?
A very belated Happy New Year. If you made any New Year's resolutions, here's why you shouldn't have:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/jan/01/new-years-resolutions1
and even though I did last year and it worked (a special prize to anyone who can remember what it was, given that I deleted the post) I maintain for some reason that my overall point is valid.
I currently have a small problem, which is that I write my best pieces when I'm troubled or discontented. At the moment I'm broadly happy, which means the wryness which stems from fury and general disconsolation just isn't there. I'm desperately grasping around for stuff to write about in my own life which won't make people reach for a bucket, but there doesn't seem to be any. (And, although this lack of inspiration is rather dispiriting in itself, it isn't dispiriting enough to inspire me, if that makes any sense.) Any tips on how to fix this ("Just slash your wrists, Ariane!") would be much appreciated.
In other news, I'm still writing Guardian columns, just finished a feature for the Independent on Sunday, and am currently working on a new show as a presenter, co-writing the script with my best friend Graham Nunn. I've never done any presenting before, and have been given advice by friends to "be more natural" and "exaggerate more". Surely I can't do both? Anyhow, I've been told a million times not to exaggerate...
Lastly, I'm a bit bored with talking about me. So can we talk about you instead please? What have you all been up to?
Friday, August 28, 2009
Sorry For Not Updating (And For Everything Else)
Last week, I apologised to a dog. I didn’t mean to: I tripped over it as I was walking out of a shop, and unthinkingly blurted “sorry”.
“Woof!” it replied, staring up at me reproachfully.
Its large sorrowful eyes seemed to demand another apology, so to my shame, I muttered again, “Um, sorry”, even though I had no such reflexive excuse this time.
The dog looked as though it had forgiven me, and turned away to sniff its lead. Though, admittedly, it would probably have done that even if I’d snapped, “Begone, wretch! I deplore your wet furry nose and everything you stand for!”
However, apologising to a dog is a significant step up from apologising to an inanimate object; I recently said sorry to a table leg, after mistakenly thinking I’d kicked my friend’s leg under the table.
“Why are you sorry?” he asked, confused.
I might have answered, “Because I just am. It’s my default setting. Sorry about that.”
My father used to say, “Apologising is a sign of weakness,” which means I’m weaker than tea where the teabag’s been dunked in for half a second. I'm always apologising for not updating this blog - and I mean the apologies genuinely - but in addition, I say sorry when (a) someone treads bone-crushingly on my foot, (b) the cashier doesn’t have any notes and has to give me eighteen pound coins, (c) anyone tells me their bad news - which is normal, except sometimes they seem surprised and respond, “It’s not your fault!”, and then I have to hurriedly assure them that they’re right, especially if the news is that somebody’s just died.
However, most people I know do exactly the same thing. We do it partly because we're scared and don't like altercations, and partly because we feel guilty for whatever we're meant to have done. But I reckon that maybe, in Britain, a country full of embarrassed people who sit on the train in eye-averted, coughing silence, the word “sorry” is used most often as a softener - to break down tension and awkwardness and insert friendliness and openness in their place. It shows a willingness to make amends and put things right; translated, it says “I am at fault, I don’t mean to be, and I won’t do anything to hurt you”. True, apologising also means admitting weakness so that others can appear strong, but that’s not a failing - it’s a kind of social pact in which we’re all complicit. And it’s possible that the alternative to endless apologies involves unpleasantness, altercations and dogs with hurt feelings.
If this is the case, then we should all be proud of how embarrassed, thoughtful and overapologetic we are. And if you don’t agree, then I’m sorry.
“Woof!” it replied, staring up at me reproachfully.
Its large sorrowful eyes seemed to demand another apology, so to my shame, I muttered again, “Um, sorry”, even though I had no such reflexive excuse this time.
The dog looked as though it had forgiven me, and turned away to sniff its lead. Though, admittedly, it would probably have done that even if I’d snapped, “Begone, wretch! I deplore your wet furry nose and everything you stand for!”
However, apologising to a dog is a significant step up from apologising to an inanimate object; I recently said sorry to a table leg, after mistakenly thinking I’d kicked my friend’s leg under the table.
“Why are you sorry?” he asked, confused.
I might have answered, “Because I just am. It’s my default setting. Sorry about that.”
My father used to say, “Apologising is a sign of weakness,” which means I’m weaker than tea where the teabag’s been dunked in for half a second. I'm always apologising for not updating this blog - and I mean the apologies genuinely - but in addition, I say sorry when (a) someone treads bone-crushingly on my foot, (b) the cashier doesn’t have any notes and has to give me eighteen pound coins, (c) anyone tells me their bad news - which is normal, except sometimes they seem surprised and respond, “It’s not your fault!”, and then I have to hurriedly assure them that they’re right, especially if the news is that somebody’s just died.
However, most people I know do exactly the same thing. We do it partly because we're scared and don't like altercations, and partly because we feel guilty for whatever we're meant to have done. But I reckon that maybe, in Britain, a country full of embarrassed people who sit on the train in eye-averted, coughing silence, the word “sorry” is used most often as a softener - to break down tension and awkwardness and insert friendliness and openness in their place. It shows a willingness to make amends and put things right; translated, it says “I am at fault, I don’t mean to be, and I won’t do anything to hurt you”. True, apologising also means admitting weakness so that others can appear strong, but that’s not a failing - it’s a kind of social pact in which we’re all complicit. And it’s possible that the alternative to endless apologies involves unpleasantness, altercations and dogs with hurt feelings.
If this is the case, then we should all be proud of how embarrassed, thoughtful and overapologetic we are. And if you don’t agree, then I’m sorry.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Bargain! Buy Now!
Longtime readers of this blog will know that I have something for an eye for a bargain, an undeniably handy skill in a credit crunch. Take, for instance, this simple and fetchingly plimsoll-like pair of shoes, which my delightful friend Wily Catkins is hand-modelling here:
Once, they were a whopping £70 - now, they're reduced to a mere £85!
And if that isn't enough of a bargain for you, I've found you a special deal on face mask sachets at Superdrug - 97p for one, but if you buy two, you only have to pay £3.99!
Truly, I am the new Robert Peston.
In other news, I have written a new Guardian piece on lying (and that's no lie):
http://www.guardian.co.uk/global/2009/may/31/lies-condoms-cigarettes-taxis
and also a Cif piece on a rather wry tale:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/jun/15/antonio-castro-online-dating
However, I am considering giving up writing to become an expert on hot deals. Next week, I hope to bring you a brassiere slashed from £18 to £37. Now, that's what I call a bragain!
Once, they were a whopping £70 - now, they're reduced to a mere £85!
And if that isn't enough of a bargain for you, I've found you a special deal on face mask sachets at Superdrug - 97p for one, but if you buy two, you only have to pay £3.99!
Truly, I am the new Robert Peston.
In other news, I have written a new Guardian piece on lying (and that's no lie):
http://www.guardian.co.uk/global/2009/may/31/lies-condoms-cigarettes-taxis
and also a Cif piece on a rather wry tale:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/jun/15/antonio-castro-online-dating
However, I am considering giving up writing to become an expert on hot deals. Next week, I hope to bring you a brassiere slashed from £18 to £37. Now, that's what I call a bragain!
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