It's 3 am. I'm cold and I can't sleep. Therefore I'm allowed to rant and be excused.
Now, I'm not saying the woman who critiqued my novel has no sense of humour but I bet even Bugs Bunny would get short shrift from her.
Bring it on Bugs that's what I say. Floppy ears and big teeth does it for me all the time. (And those silky ears can do wonders for your sex life as well.)
I think I should date Charlie Sheen actually. He's one hell of a comedian - whichever way you look at it. I would love to interview him. I reckon after a few drinks and we got talking about his dad and that great film Apocalypse Now I could easily get Charlie to pretend he was a helicopter and whizz around the studio making buzzy noises.
A tenner says I could do it.
Twenty says I could get him to drop his pants and pledge allegiance to Bugs Bunny.
Humour is a very personal thing isn't it? I mean, I pretty much enjoy all sorts of humour, including slapstick, both verbal and visual. But the other day some folks and I were chatting at the tennis centre and one parent was saying how he disliked Steve Martin and Jim Carrey. He didn't even like that classic film Airplane.
And he was serious!
I reckon he has a part time job as a book critic.
Now the advice I've been given on my novel which is cross genre is to write in one genre only and obviously (she didn't actually say this but I sort of picked it up from her use of words) don't write anything funny or which might be misconstrued as fatuous, shallow and trite.
Oh alright. Let's all be serious all of the time. In fact, just to add to sense of seriousness why don't we all wear sackclothes and stick our hands in a tub of boiling tar!
Hmm.. I guess that's kind of fatuous eh?
Anyway, I have a dilemma. How do you fit a square peg in a round hole? How does Mrs T make herself not what she is? No can do folks, not for the sake of publication. Sure, I can develop characters more, put the humour more in context perhaps but never to write it? Never to make a silly joke? I might as well throw myself in that tub of boiling tar. No more jokes about Quasimodo having a nice set of bells, no more laughing at the thought of Charlie Sheen pretending he's a helicopter, no more laughing when folks trip over on the pavement.
Dear God, I might as well hang myself now. Or take up pilates.
Hmm... Maybe I should take up plates and yoga? They're supposed to be calming aren't they? Isn't pilates supposed to make you get better posture and look taller? I could do with looking taller. Then my arse wouldn't look so big.
Yes, that's the answer. I must take up pilates, buy some incense and smelly candles and do some chanting - that should make me calm down. I'm not sure I can sit cross legged though. I mean that would be like being back at school again and Mr T might remove my personal allowance and just give me dinner money.
Feng shui. I guess I could try that too. Isn't Feng Shui the idea that you move all your furniture around in order to get postive vibes? Hmm... I guess I sort of do that at the moment anyway. Well, you know, it's much easier to push the sofa a little forwards than actually do the vacuuming. That always gives me positive vibes. And I regularly put the toy boxes under the beds. That gotta be good for you, hasn't it?
Yeah, I don't think I need to any more Feng Shui. I mean what if I put the my bed up against the window? Mr T might be tempted. I dunno if I could do it to him. I mean he's not that bad really.
Hmm, what else could I try to calm me down? Beta blockers I suppose. But there for your heart really and this is a problem with my brain. Tranquilsers! Yep, that's what I need. That should do the trick!
Ah, tis a pity though. I did really fancy flying with Charlie Sheen.