HUMOUR
This month Cocky checks out a Joe Orton library book. Learns how to get good tomatoes and find out whom that disfunctional family is... and more.
THE STRANGE HERITAGE OF JOE ORTON
Some years before he became a famous playwright, John (Joe) Orton from Leicester shared a bed-sit at 25 Noel Road, Islington, North London with his partner/lover Kenneth Halliwell. To amuse themselves, the pair vandalised borrowed books at the local library over a five years period. But this was not mindless damage; it was very clever work: Halliwell would subtly change pictures and images in the books by pasting his own creations into them, and Orton would type wonderfully funny and sly spoof cover notes and then carefully insert them into the inside cover pages.
They were eventually caught out by an astute clerk at the library which took legal action against them. In 1962, they were found guilty and both sentenced to six months in prison for their pranks. The library officials were not forgiving types: Orton and Halliwell were pursued mercilessly for financial damages and forced to pay 262 pounds sterling in compensation when they got out of jail. This was paid in monthly instalments out of their benefit (dole) money, and made them both bitter, as they felt the prison terms had been punishment enough.
Orton became famous during the mid-1960’s when his plays ‘Entertaining Mr Sloan’, ‘Loot’, ‘What the Butler Saw’, ‘Funeral Games’ and ‘The Erphingham Camp’ became huge stage (and movie) hits. Orton brilliantly thumbed his nose at modern society’s values, shocking and thrilling audiences with his verbal barbs and Pinter-style dialogue. ‘Ortonesque’ became a new buzz word in an attempt to describe his biting literary style. This was seen as great satire in the tradition of Bauldaire, Rimbaud and Wilde. Orton was also commissioned to write a screenplay (‘Up against it’) for The Beatles, at that time the darlings of the British establishment. But just as he was really shifting into top gear as a gifted artist, Orton’s life ended.
Kenneth Halliwell was maddened with jealousy at Orton’s sudden fame and his dangerous addiction to ‘cottaging’: squalid anonymous sexual encounters with men in public toilets, which Orton referred to as ‘trolling’. On the night of 9 August 1967, as Orton slept, Halliwell smashed his lover’s skull in with nine frenzied hammer blows; then took 22 Nembutals and died by his side. They had lived together for fifteen years.
In a final twist of irony, those defaced library books suddenly became collector’s items. Nowadays the collection is reckoned to be worth thousands just because Orton (and Halliwell) had so brilliantly defaced them. The books have their own special compartment at Islington Library, where they can only be read and admired. No one is allowed to remove them. The section has become a kind of shrine to Joe Orton and Ken Halliwell. What was once regarded as smutty and vulgar is now recognised as work of comic genius. Whenever someone picks up one of the ‘defaced’ books and reads a now famous sleeve note, I’m sure that, somewhere up there, Joe has a smirk at the wry joke that life played on him. (‘Prick Up Your Ears’; the biography of Joe Orton by John Lahr, Penguin Books, 1980)
COUNCIL TAX REVALUED?
Council tax revaluers want to charge us more if we happen to live in a nice area (of the UK). That ought to mean discounts for those of us who live in ‘rough’ areas, shouldn’t it?
We have a huge council house in our street. The extended family is run by a grumpy, frumpy old woman with a pack of fierce Corgi dogs. Her cars are not taxed or insured, and do not even carry licence plates; but local police have never taken any legal action against her.
Her arrogant, bad-tempered old husband is famous for upsetting foreigners with racist comments made in public. A shopkeeper in London blames him for ordering the murder of his son, but nothing has been proven as yet.
All the children of this married pair have broken marriages behind them except the youngest – and he was widely regarded to be gay. Two grandsons are meant to be serving in the British Army but are always being photographed getting drunk and misbehaving themselves in popular London nightclubs.
The odd and eccentric antics of this absurdly over-privileged family are always in British tabloid newspapers. They are plainly out of control. Who would want to live near Windsor Castle in Berkshire? (From a Local resident)
DRAWING GOD
A kindergarten teacher was observing her classroom of children while they were drawing. She walked around the room to see each child’s work: As she got to one little girl, who was working diligently, she asked what the drawing was.
The girl said, “I’m drawing God, miss.”
The teacher paused and said, “But no one knows what God looks like.”
Without looking up from her sketching, the girl replied, “They will in a minute.”
THE TOMATO GARDEN
An old Italian man lived alone in the beautiful countryside of Tuscany. He wanted to dig his tomato garden, but it was very hard work, as lack of moisture made the ground very hard. To add to his troubles, his only son, Vincenzo, who used to help him, was currently in prison. The old man wrote to his son describing his predicament:
‘Dear Vincenzo,
I am feeling pretty bad because it looks as though I won’t be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I am getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, my troubles would be over. I know that you would dig up the garden for me.
Love, Papa.’
A few days later he received a reply from his son:
‘Dear Papa, I’d do anything for you Papa, except dig up that garden. That’s where I buried the bodies. Love, Vinnie’
At 4am the next morning, federal authorities and local police arrived in droves and dug up the entire area, but without finding any bodies. Finally they apologised to the old man and drove off. The next day, the old man received another letter from his son: ‘Dear Papa, Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That’s the best I could do in the circumstances.
Love, Vinnie.’
HONEYMOON CONFESSION
On their honeymoon the new husband said to his bride, “I have a confession that I should have made before, but I was concerned that it might affect our relationship.”
“What is it?” she asked, intrigued.
“I’m a golfer” he replied.
“What’s the big deal about that?” she asked.
“Well, when I say I’m a golfer,” he replied, “I mean that I will be on the golf course on Saturday, Sunday, Wednesday afternoons and on any public holidays. If it ever comes to a choice between your wishes and golf, I’m afraid that golf will win out, every time.”
The wife pondered for a moment and then said, “Well, thanks for being straight with me about that. In the same spirit of honesty, I should tell you that I have concealed something about my own past that you should know about: I’m a hooker.”
“No problem”, said the husband; “just narrow your stance a little and overlay your grip; then swing through the ball and follow on through with the iron. That should clear it up.”
GORDON AND THE wwDEAD DONKEY
Years ago, a young man named Gordon bought a donkey from an old farmer for 100 pounds sterling. The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey the next day, but when the farmer drove up, he said, “Sorry son, I have some bad news...the donkey is on my truck, but unfortunately he’s dead.”
Gordon replied, “Well then, just give me my hundred quid back.”
“Sorry, can’t do that”, said the farmer, “I’ve spent it already.”
Gordon was unfazed. “Okay then”, he said, “just unload the donkey here anyway.”
The farmer was puzzled. “What are you going to do with a dead donkey?” He asked.
“I’m going to raffle him off”, said Gordon.
The farmer was now shocked. “Surely you can’t raffle off a dead donkey?” he asked.
Gordon, with a wicked smile on his face, said, “Of course I can! Just watch me. I just won’t bother to tell anybody that the donkey is dead.”
A month later the farmer met up with Gordon in the local pub and asked, “What happened with that dead donkey I left you?”
Gordon laughed and said, “I raffled the beast off, sold five hundred tickets at two pounds a piece and made a huge, fat profit!”
Now totally amazed, the farmer rejoined, “But didn’t anyone complain that you had stolen their money because you lied about the donkey being dead?”
“Oh yeah”, Gordon replied. “But the only guy who found out that the beast was dead was the raffle winner when he came over to claim his prize. So when he complained I gave him his two pounds raffle ticket price back plus an extra two hundred pounds, which as you know is double the going rate for a donkey; so he thought I was a great guy, and went away very happy!”
Gordon grew up and eventually became Britain’s Chancellor of the Exchequer, and no matter how many times he lied, or how much money he stole from British voters, as long as he gave them back some of the stolen money most of them thought that, deep down, Gordon was a great guy. Then at the end of June 2007, he became Britain’s new Prime Minister.
The moral of this tale is that if you really think Gordon is about to play fair and do something for the everyday people of Britain for once in his miserable lying life, then think again, my friend, because you’d really be better off flogging a dead donkey.
AFRICAN BENEFIT CONCERT
A LARGE gathering at an outdoor rock concert in London’s Hyde Park. Bob Geldof silences the massive audience by holding up his right hand. Then he starts clapping slowly. “Every time I clap, a child in Africa dies,” he says gravely. There is an awed silence for a few seconds. Suddenly a man in the crowd shouts loudly, “Stop clapping then, you silly twonk!”
LET’S BE HAVING YOU!
A policeman returned home from work to find his young wife in bed with two men, one on either side of her; all three of them looking pretty embarrassed.
The officer nodded at them in turn and said, “Hello, hello, hello. What’s all this, then?”
POSH MAKES IT BIG IN L.A.
Victoria Beckham, the ‘Posh’ Spice Girl, Victoria Adams, has been more of a smash in celebrity-crazy Los Angeles than her famous Soccer star husband David Beckham, who has moved from Real Madrid to play for LA Galaxy for a reported contract of 250 million dollars over five years. Posh delightedly made the round of local TV chat shows, where viewers ogled her silicone boobs and admired her total lack of intellect, the true hallmark of an ‘Essex Girl’. Asked what ‘Girl Power’ meant, she squealed, “Well, err; it’s like being yourself, innit?”
Posh has now been given her own cable TV chat show and her first guest was scheduled to be billionaire heiress Paris Hilton, recently of out jail for drunken driving. This was a real bimbo fest: something akin to Kate Moss meets Pamela Anderson. Further guests are rumoured to be The March Hare and The Mad Hatter.
SPORTS QUOTES
“When she (Oksana Zbrozek) finally opened her legs, she proved to be a class apart.” (Tim Hutchings, Eurosport)
“The Namibian team members are in black and blue, which is usually how their opponents end up looking at the end of a match.” (Martin Gillingham, Eurosport)
“I predict that the boat that will win the Americas Cup in 2007 is the boat that is fastest.” (Brad Butterworth, BBC)
“There goes Kenenisa Bekele of Ethiopia now, quickly surging through from third to fourth as the pace begins to quicken.” (Geoff Wightman, Eurosport)
“We are the real heroes of Le Tour de France – the domestics. We get no publicity because we don’t dope; we haul our arses through the mountains and long hot stages, ferrying drinks for the boys and helping and pacing our team leaders whenever required. And we make it to the finishing line in Paris by the scruff of our teeth.” (Briton Bradley Wiggins, Cofidis Team, BBC)
“When it rains on Le Champs Elysees, you might as well be icing on a race-rink.” (Paul Sherwen, Eurosport)
davidcox@loxifo.co.th
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