Showing posts with label humour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humour. Show all posts

Sunday, February 21, 2010

What’s in a name?


Thinking about Goodluck Jonathan, the new president of Nigeria, brought to mind other names that people have had bestowed on them through history by ignorant or hopeful parents. There is, of course, the ever memorable Praise-God Barebone, a seventeenth century Leveller, who may very well have been altogether forgotten but for the fact that Oliver Cromwell’s Nominated Assembly was to achieve eternal ridicule as the Barebone’s Parliament.

But there are names a lot less benign than Goodluck Jonathan or Praise-God Barebone. I’m not recommending this but if you want a comprehensive catalogue you could do no better than to dip into the smutty schoolboy vulgarity of Potty, Fartwell and Knob: From Luke Warm to Minty Badger - Extraordinary But True Names of British People, an altogether hilarious compilation of the weird, the wonderful and the downright bizarre by Russell Ash. I mention but a few, and do remember these names are not made up

There is Seymour Bust, born in Essex in 1841; Pleasant Titty, baptised in Margate in 1768; there is Sue Age, born in Glasgow in 1849; Sexey Butt, born in Dundry, Somerset in 1803; Nancy Boys, born in Brighton in 1842; Posthumous Mince, who died in Greenwich, Kent in 1839; Easter Bunny, born in Yorkshire in 1851; Mad Looney, who died in Warwick in 1894; Trannie Pickup, born in Portsmouth in 1853; Turd Collar, born in Ireland in 1821, and there is –wait for it- Effing Dick, born in Glasgow in 1848!

These names were doubtless fairly innocent at the time, only acquiring a retrospective hilarity. Who knows what future humour may emerge from our innocent-sounding names!

There is one story that I came across a couple of years ago concerning another African politician, Canaan Banana, Zimbabwe’s first president. Now the name itself, although mildly amusing, became outrageously funny because of certain circumstances emerging from the man’s career. He had a very poor relationship with the press, something politicians should be at pains to avoid because journalists are a vengeful crew. His name was obviously a headline writer’s dream. To make things even worse his daughter was called Anna Banana. Anyway, the name was used in so many comic associations that he actually passed a law banning people making jokes about it – and I am not joking!

But then came the big one: Banana was indicted on a charge of homosexual rape. I feel sure you can picture what followed, headlines like Man Raped by Banana. His unsuccessful appeal after conviction was an occasion for further ribaldry; Banana loses Sex Appeal, being one particular favourite. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, just as Banana by any other name would have been as bad…only not quite so funny.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

No Joke


I enjoyed a recent piece in the Daily Telegraph on Communist-era humour. Apparently the old Federal Republic intelligence services collected jokes from ‘across the wall’ as a measure of popular discontent with the Communist regime. Senior officials always looked forward to the latest compilation not just for the information revealed about life in the east but for the simple amusement value. I’ve picked up a few of these;

What would happen if the desert became communist?

Nothing for a while-and then there would be a shortage of sand.

Why can’t you get any pins in East Germany anymore?

Because they are being sold to Poland as kebab skewers.

How do you double the value of a Trabant?

Fill it with petrol.

The Trabi, the old East German car made from plastic and a prayer, was a popular source of humour. So, too, was Christmas. The holiday has been cancelled, another joke went, because Mary could not find any nappies for baby Jesus, Joseph was called up to the army and the three kings didn’t get a travel permit.

There was a huge risk in this simple democracy in action, this brief moment of personal freedom, as the Stasi, the secret police, had 91,000 employees and close on 190,000 civilian informants in a population of some seventeen million. Political jokes were always taken seriously by the authorities as evidence of subversion. People were jailed. Even so, they continued to take the risk, even joking about the dangers;

There are people who tell jokes. There are people who collect jokes and tell jokes. There are people who collect people who tell jokes.

I think that George Orwell was wrong. Freedom is not the freedom to say that two plus two equals four. Freedom is the right to tell a joke. If that is granted all else follows.