Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Those fellas should be behind bars!
‘Those fellas should be behind bars!’ That’s what I always say when faced with acts of economic treason or revelations of institutionalised child abuse. I say ‘those fellas should be behind bars’ and I feel all the better for it.
I say it to everyone. I go into the newsagents, pick up a newspaper, look at the headline and say ‘those fellas should be behind bars!’ to the other customers or the newsagent or whoever’s around. It’s great. Very cathartic. Try it yourself. Try it now. It’s easy; all you have to do is frown and say: ‘those fellas should be behind bars!’ Did you do it? You did? I can’t say I noticed. Try it again. Declare it loudly this time and with a distinct air of incredulity. OK, let’s see how it goes. Ready? Go! Ahh, that’s it. You have it now. Felt good didn’t it?
Similarly, when angered by juvenile delinquency, I like to exclaim in a stern tone, ‘they should bring back the birch’. That’s a good one too. I also recommend ‘did you see the match?’ in a chirpy tone, for relaxed social occasions. It’s a good ice-breaker and there has always been a match. Oh, and if there has been any trouble at the match, from hooligans or that, you can score a hat trick by saying. . .
Chirpy Tone: ‘Did you see the match?’
Incredulous Tone: ‘Those fellas should be behind bars’.
Stern Tone: ‘They should bring back the birch’.
That feels fucking fantastic.
Labels:
clerical abuse,
economic treason,
incredulity,
match,
prison,
the match
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1 comment:
I have used that fateful phrase "Did you see the match?" but once in my life and still shudder to think about it. Immediately following my casual comment, meant as nothing more than a means to ingratiate my fellow barfly into thinking we spoke something of the same language there was further talk about an arsenal taking on a pool full of livers. Knowing the jig was up and that I would surely be caught in my web of lies I confess I had to feign unconsciousness and promptly collapsed to the floor, but not before landing on a fellow patrons table and flipping all contents skyward as my massive fourteen stone frame came crashing down. This additional dramatic improvisation ensured my barfly companions total distraction from our talk of the football game. "Haven't seen a dive like that since Klinsmanns's glory days!" he chuckled, helping me to my feet. "Ah yes, Klinsmann, Germanys greatest swimmer, a true legend..." I replied, knowing the worst was now behind me.
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