Comedy Dystopia

Praise be to www.meetup.com !  This week I went to a creative writers evening in a city centre cafe.  Friendly people, well-organised, and a very enjoyable “Stimmung” (atmosphere).  Lots of envelopes packed full of prompts, ideas for a story.

Here’s the prompt I selected.

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This presented a challenge for me.

  • I’m not a woman.
  • I’m not very experienced at writing “He said… she said… tears rolling down to her chin…” prose.

Then I thought of SJ, an ex-girlfriend of mine from decades ago and a diatribe of a voicemail she left me when our relationship ended, full of invective and sarcasm.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Bingo!  I had my material to respond to this prompt.  Thirty minutes later I read out my piece.  It gets a laugh.  And another one.  And another.  Phew, the people are either very polite, or they got the dark humour and digs at the Family Values Member of Parliament.

The expression, comedy dystopia, was then coined by one of the other attendees.

I like that expression.

1984 as a satirical comedy?

The Trial as a musical?

Feel free to stick any ideas or complete manuscripts into your nearest postbox.

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Drop us a line or two!

Have a dystopic day, won’t you!

 

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Amnesty International Letters

Shortly after the Tiananmen Square massacre in the summer of 1989, I decided to join Amnesty International.  Once a month I’d receive their magazine.  I’d always open up at the centrefold.

The centrefold consisted of six cases (prisoners of conscience) that Amnesty International had adopted.  I used to write to the governments and embassies of every single one of  the cases without exception, month in, month out.

I never received a reply.

Actually that’s not quite true.

The Israeli Embassy in London did reply.  It was a very courteous letter, in an A4 envelope with several pages of detail.  (I wish I had kept a copy for me scrapbook, I really do.)

I wrote back to the author of the letter, a Boaz Modai.  I invited him up to Redcar, where I was living at the time, recommended he visit the Redcar Rock Shop, treat himself to a lemon top ice cream and informed him that there was a synagogue in Middlesbrough, just up the road.

Boaz Modai did not reply.

Last week I google Boaz Modai.  (t’s a name that you don’t forget.)  Blimey, he has a pedigree, and he’s had a good career.  He ended up as Israeli Ambassador to Ireland later in his career.

I still wonder if he ever planned to visit Redcar on his days off, though.

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Have a diplomatic day, won’t you!

Glory to Stalin!

Stalin’s reign.

An old lady gets on a bus in Moscow. She has waited a long time, and sits down with a sigh of relief. “Oh, glory to God!” she exclaims.

The bus driver turns around with a grave look.

“Comrade, there is no God. You must say, ‘Glory to Comrade Stalin.'”

The old lady apologizes and pledges to remember this. After a minute, she pipes up,

“Comrade, what shall I say, if, heaven forbid, Comrade Stalin should die?”

The bus driver pauses, and answers,

“Oh! Then you shall say, ‘Glory to God!'”

Have a glorious day, won’t you!

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“No school tomorrow”

“No school tomorrow” is a plea used by young British schoolkids when begging their parents to let them stay up later than usual on a Friday or Saturday night, usually when the parents just want a bit of peace and quiet without their offspring being around.

Because there was no school tomorrow, my parents used to let me stay up on Fridays to watch NTNOCN, Not the Nine O’Clock News.  That was forty years ago.  Time flies.  Even as a young pads brat, I used to love my current affairs, news, history and politics and was very occasionally (school holidays) allowed to watch Question Time.

NTNOCN did a brilliant spoof of QT.  Rowan Atkinson (Mr Bean) does a very accurate impression of Lord… Lord er… Lord er… Lord Peter Carrington.

Here it is.  Enjoy!

Have a questioning day, won’t you!

Your Friday Joke

The Reverend Doctor Ian Paisley was a real firebrand preacher and politician in the 1970’s.  However he later calmed down and was part of the peace process in Northern Ireland.

He even became a doting grandfather.  One Christmas he even bought his pet dog a wee rubber ball.  Every time it bounced off the ground, it went:

Boyne!  Boyne!  Boyne!

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Have a bouncy day, won’t you!