What with the advent of MySpace and Facebook, my e-mail inbox nowadays consists almost entirely of spam.
Oh, there's a smattering of PR stuff that comes through, and the odd annoying individual that will seek to comment on a blog entry via e-mail rather than clicking the comment link on the blog itself (usually a religious type reacting to this post, demanding answers that are in fact explained in full within the entry, had he â and itâs always a he â bothered to read it) forcing me to cut and paste it into the blog as if it were a properly executed comment.
Amid the usual âincrease your mortgage payments/credit rating/penis sizeâ offers there is always a Spanish lottery win or a variation on the Nigerian government scam.
Hereâs the latest, from the Rev. Charles Eke, whose e-mail address is French, but who fails to disclose his alleged country of origin. His grammar and syntax in English is the most flawlessy executed Iâve seen. Iâve deleted most of the guff out of the original message.
After due deliberation with my colleagues, I decided to forward to you this proposal. We want a reliable person who could assist us to transfer the sum of US$40.5M (forty Million Five Hundred Thousand Dollars) only into his account.
As you may rightly want to know I got your address from our Chambers of Commerce and Industry. I am a top official with the Ministry of Petroleum Resources (MPR). We the officials involved in the deal have put in many years of services to our ministries. We have been exercising patience for
this opportunity for so long and to most of us, this is a lifetime opportunity we cannot afford to miss. This transaction is very much free from all sorts of risks.
NOTE: Your discussion regarding to this transaction should be limited, because we are still in Government service. Let honesty and trust be our watchwords throughout this transaction. And your Prompt reply will be highly appreciated.
Rev. Charles Eke
My response to Charles was as follows:
Discussion was kept to a minimum, but the honest reply, I trust youâll agree, is certainly prompt, as you will appreciate. After due deliberation with my colleagues, I decided to forward to you this proposal. We want you to go f&#% yourself.
Perhaps keep a separate Spammer Bashing address â you know, one you set up only to send abuse to spammers, that isnât linked to the same internet account through which you do your banking and purchasing, so that your financial details canât be abused.
What? You donât keep a separate Spammer Bashing address? You must have a life or something.
I just canât help myself. A walk down the street is an opportunity to misread or see the potential for wordplay in every situation.
So Iâm in a music shop and notice this Shuggy Otis CD. If youâre into good sounding guitar you should listen to this guy. His dad Johnny was someone Frank Zappa quite admired. I have two of his albums. But I couldnât work out why this release was in a section called âNo Funk Soulââ sure, distinguish it from âFunky Soulâ if you must, but what do those sub-genres even mean? And whoâs deciding what areas they cover? Cos there are only two CDs in the âNo Funk Soulâ section, and the Shuggy Otis CD, which I own a copy of, certainy has funk and soul.
And then I realise itâs a design flaw in the stationery: there isnât a subgenre known as âNo Funk Soulâ, rather, the âN, O Funk/Soulâ section comes before the âP Funk/Soulâ section.
PS This postâs title comes from a chart-topping single by Doug Mulray
Almost every time I have been reminded that âpunning is the lowest form of witâ Iâve been able to point out that the person had involuntarily chuckled (occasionally belly-laughed) prior to forcing out the groan. Only once did someone counter this observation with, âyeah, but even though it was funny, it was still lameâ. What? Itâs either funny or itâs not.
Either way, I have my standards â and theyâre usually tested by shopfronts. The multitude of Thai restaurants in Newtown, for example, that include Thai Me Up and Thai Foon, border on the painful. Although I do like From Here To Maternity in Neutral Bay. I do remember hooning around in a car with members of Leonardoâs Bride in the early â90s, when someone suggested âThe Yeeros Living Dangerouslyâ as an EP title (after the Peter Weir film). It was only a matter of time before a kebab joint adopted it, but Magic Lunchbox had a release out by that name the following year (on the Troy Horse label).
At university, when focaccia was all the rage, some mates kicked similar ideas around. We came up with a cafe called Focaccia Later. Yeah, such an emporium of fine toasted foodstuffs did eventually open under that name. But nobodyâs come up with a similarly themed eatery called How the Focaccia, have they? Or the Oxford Street Turkish take-away called âGay Pideâ (not that thereâs anything wrong with that).
I was in Wagga Wagga in the week before Christmas â you can tell Iâm just a visitor because I called it by its real name; locals shorten it to âWaggaâ â when I saw this travesty:
Itâs crap because, in the first place, thereâs no telling what the shopâs about. From Here To Maternity sells maternity wear. Focaccia Later and How The Focaccia would sell focaccia. Gay Pide would sell pide. What does a shop called Ruma....Has It sell? One can only suppose the owner is named Ruma. But what is it that Ruma has got?
Of course the name âRumaâ is also a bit of a problem. On first sighting, itâs hard to tell how to pronounce the word â you need the context of the whole name and you have to be familiar with the phrase. In all, what Ruma has is a crap name. And the proof is the shopfront itself.
Thatâs right, gone bust.
Whatâs in a name? A shop by any other name might actually stay in business.
A blogger called Ben has undertaken a worthy sociological task to compile and maintain a repository of pun shopfronts, under the fitting title of âTanks A Lotâ. He accepts submissions; how could I withhold this little gem? He no doubt agrees: tanks a lot for ruma has it, Ben.
Grabbing a drink of cold water in the early hours as Sydneyâs latest heatwave began, I flicked the radio on to hear an ad for The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged), currently enjoying a season at the Sydney Opera House. Itâs a humorous take on âall 37 plays in 97 minutesâ â originally the work of a few mates knocking around âthe woods of Northern Californiaâ who would perform at âRenaissance Fairs (ramshackle festivals where a bunch of hippies and bikers recreate what they think an English village would have looked like in Elizabethan timesâ (according to the programme).
Having just seen a performance, the ad was just annoying. Not funny, barely representative of the production, and unlikely have enticed me to see the show if I did not already know about it. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) is an excellent parody, and in this case performed by a fine cast of comedians â Greg Fleet, Damian Callinan and John Leary (I guess Leary is technically a comic actor). The ad quoted from Romeo and Juliet: âWhat light from yonder window breaks?â at which point the cast (or the guys in the dubbing studio at the radio station, I daresay) adopt hip-hop accents to repeat âBreak! Break! Break!â Painful. There would be an almost endless choice of soundbites to grab that would be funnier, and more appealing to a broader audience. In the Romeo and Juliet section, for example, there is this lovely parody:
Whatâs in a name? that which we call a nose By any other name would smell as sweet
Sure, to read it on the page, itâs almost groan-worthy. In performance, it was hilarious â and there was a wave of audience laughter to prove it. Why not take a sound feed from the mixing desk, with a couple of ceiling mics over the audience? There would be countless random samples to grab that would sound good, be genuinely funny, and convince a broad potential audience of the quality of the production.
Although it has enjoyed a season at least one other time since, the Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged) had a run some eight years ago, around about this time, again at the Opera House. That production, also a showcase the talents of Greg Fleet, included (comic) actors Darren Gilshenan and Justin Melvey, and I got to talk to Fleety about it before the run began. It wasnât the first time Iâd interviewed Fleety â but it was the first face-to-face interview Iâd had the pleasure of undertaking with him. Given the production runs to the end of January, it'sas good an excuse as any to run that interview now.
What a piece of work is Fleety
âIâm a NIDA reject, rather than a NIDA graduate â a NIDA expellee,â Greg Fleet points out over a cup of coffee. And now that I think about it, Iâm not surprised: when I used the word âthespianâ in front of Fleety, he got the giggles. This is a comic turned actor, and not the other way around. As Greg tells it, prior to being accepted to the National Institute of Dramatic Arts, fresh out of boarding school, had had spent a year ârunning amok.â Subsequently living with his girlfriend and âexperimenting with various thingsâ, Fleet was unready to settle down and work. Playwright Nick Enright, then Head of Acting at NIDA, was the one who took Greg aside for âthe final conversationâ. The really weird thing, according to Fleet, was that when it was clear that he had no idea what it was that he was going to do next, Enright suggested that he could still go off and do âthe comedy thingâ if he was so inclined.
âI just went, âwhoah; what are you talking about?ââ Fleety explains.â I had absolutely no interest in doing comedy at all. I thought, âthis manâs insaneâ¦ as well as frightening.ââ Of course, a few years later, âthe comedy thingâ was exactly what Fleet went off and did. âHe somehow knew that that was what I was going to do,â Greg says, and as a result, Nick Enright remains one of the few people Greg Fleet finds truly intimidating. âIf I saw him today,â he confesses, âIâd still desperately try to please him.â
Were Nick Enright to come across Fleety now, heâd have reason to be pleased. For although Greg Fleet pursued the âcomedy thingâ, he kept going until his comedy started to evolve into drama, appearing in productions of Twelfth Night and A Midsummer Nightâs Dream, and more importantly. More importantly, he devised solo comedy shows such as Underwater World and Scary, giving him the opportunity to take the stage as characters. Initially, Fleety claims, he felt he âhad a bit of a problemâ with character-driven comedy; he preferred to be saying what he thought as Greg Fleet. Then, he says, he discovered the âcomic characterâ was a mode of performance that he could âsneak intoâ. Now he admits that he was often âsneaking intoâ characters even in his earliest shows. âIt wasnât really acting,â he wishes to stress, just âpretending to be other people and doing what they did.â Hang on, Greg, this sounds suspiciously like âactingâ.
In The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Greg Fleet is pretending to be lots of people, as are his fellow cast members, comic actor Darren Gilshenan and Logie-winning Home and Away star Justin Melvey. Fleetyâs only regret is that his longest time off-stage is a mere twenty seconds. âItâs the only show Iâve ever done where I donât even have time to have a cigarette, so Iâm freaking out.â The situation is worse for Gilshenan, though, whose characters include all the female roles. âHeâs got to do a lot more really quick changes,â Fleet observes. âHeâs virtually running the whole time, which amuses me.â
His inability to âfrock upâ like Gilshenan has not made Fleety jealous. In the past heâs had the opportunity to do the same, and more: âIâve ânuded upâ in the name of comedy!â he says. But when Fleet played Thisbe in A Midsummer Nightâs Dream, it was âa man pretending to be a womanâ. With Gilshenan, he says, âyou canât tell the difference. Itâs uncanny.â Right on cue, a gorgeous waitress delivers another coffee to the table, and Fleet announces that âthat was Darren Gilshenan, just dropped in playing a woman.â
Fleetâs first contact with The Complete Works of Shakespeare came about âages agoâ when the comedy was first produced. âI did a really terrible audition and didnât get the part,â he admits. The show went on to do very well both here and overseas. When it was decided to revive The Complete Worksâ¦ locally, Fleety, who by now had a strong comedic profile, got a guernsey almost automatically. âThey didnât get me to audition, thank God, they just said, âDo you want to do it?â So I said, âAll rightâ.â When the decision to get Fleety came through, Greg happened to be in England, appearing in the final episodes of Time Gentlemen Please, a pub-based sitcom that has yet to appear on Australian television. Fleety plays the Aussie yob backpacker boyfriend of Julia Sawalha. When news of this breaks, Fleet acknowledges, âeveryone in the world will be going, âI must kill Greg Fleet!ââ
The Complete Works of Shakespeare provides the âperfect roleâ for Fleet. âThere are bits in it where Iâm left on stage, almost in a stand-up capacity, having to try to improvise my way out of situations,â he says. And, he explains, it is well cast: Gilshenan plays lots of characters, âwhich heâs really good atâ, and Melvey, âthe young, handsome oneâ, gets to play Hamlet.
Fleety insists that this surfeit of Shakespeare will not lead his appetite for the Bard to sicken, and so die. Instead, he explains, âit keeps piquing my interestâ as it will for the audience â because these tiny bits make you want to go and read the play or do more of it.â
Well hereâs the obvious challenge for Nick Enright: see The Complete Works of William Shakespeare at the Opera House Play House Theatre and then direct Fleety in some Shakespeare thereafter.
POSTSCRIPT Though alive and well at the time of publication of the interview, Nick Enright has passed away. So while the production is running in the same venue, the articleâs closing is from the earlier productionâs run, and is not intended to cause offence or distress.
I can't quite tell if the local journalist who cobbled this together is a bit shit, or just intent on showing how the Malaysian reporter of the New Strait Times is a bit shit. Essentially, it's the story of a sex-and-drugs scandal involving a couple of high profile citizens (including a newsreader, no less!) who also happen to be women, horror of horrors. But early on, in trying to paint a picture of the scene of debauchery, half-eaten pizza turns up as part of the damning evidence.
Perhaps the journalist just doesnât like pizza.
Or perhaps pizza has long been a symbol of moral turpitude and I just wasn't aware of it: in the US, or at least, in US popular culture, pizza parlors (or, less fruitily, âpizza jointsâ) are frequently Mafia fronts â either a money laundering business, a place to hide an imported hit-man until the job is done, or at the very least, somewhere people with names like Frankie the Fish and Joey Clams can hang out between running numbers and collecting tributes. No doubt, in countries desperately resisting Coca Colanisation, pizza is just another symbol of the decadent west.
Or perhaps the paper should change its
name to The Straightest of Times.