Old Red Nose is back

I’d like to begin this entry by offering up an undoubtedly offensive picture of an alcoholic. Why offensive? Well, because the image to the right of this text portrays a classic stereotype of such a person and, as such, is neither big, nor clever, nor intrinsically funny. But in this case I think the picture is allowable because, if you look carefully, the inebriated gentleman is raising his fingers on either side of him to make a pair of air-drawn quotation marks, as if to say, “Fluhhrrr, fecking arse, whisky, bollocks to the lot of yer, yer feckin’ feckers”. Or, to translate his almost unintelligible grunting into sensible English, “Yes, I may be a pissed old fart, but that’s only because I am a mere ‘stereotype’ of an alcoholic. Comprendez?”

Stay with me here, because all will become clear in a moment, I promise.

One of the other stereotypes about alcoholics such as the gentlemen in the photograph is that they have red noses. Red eyes too, but almost certainly red noses. If you look carefully, I’m sure you can spot our friendly inebriate’s red nose. There it is. Right in the middle of his face, where noses are usually situated. Now I’m sure there’s some good medical reason for the red nose phenomenon, but I don’t know what it is, so I’m presuming that the effect is caused by the aforementioned alcoholic’s head slumping forward into the large glass of red wine they have been drinking, then staying there all night and slowly dying the protruding proboscis into a reddish hue. Probably.

Keep listening, for the following information is important.

On no account whatsoever should alcoholics with red noses be confused with clowns. Yes, it’s true, clowns do have red noses, but clowns are scary and only allegedly funny. Whereas - and this is a sweeping and, again, highly offensive generalisation - alcoholics are not so scary but can be highly amusing. Though one shouldn’t laugh at them really, because they have obviously got a serious problem. Mind you, clowns have a problem too, because they’re evil. That’s just my personal hang-up about clowns, though. Not funny. Evil. Evil clowns, come to murder you with an axe in the middle of the night and steal your pet goldfish. Or something. Oh dear, this is all going horribly wrong, I can sense it.

In fact, I’m going to quickly issue a disclaimer here - drunk people who have enjoyed a night of social bonhomie are highly amusing (if you are drunk too), but alcoholics are not. Not amusing. No. Forget everything I said previously, and just book me that one way charabanc to hell. Thank you.

Right, we’re getting to the really important stuff now. Pay attention.

Neither alcoholics or clowns are to be confused with the entire population of this fine nation we call the United Kingdom. Got that? It’s an easy mistake to make, however, because every year - or is it every two years? I forget, and time flies when you’re failing to laugh at another sodding attempt at a comedy sketch written by Richard ‘Upper Middle Class Luvvie Twat’ Curtis - the entire population of this country, its surrounding islands and farflung foreign outposts, don red noses in order to celebrate a fundraising occasion called Comic Relief. This entails going backstage at various provincial theatre venues up and down this green and pleasant land to give relief (oral or otherwise) to stand-up comics such as Jim Davidson or Bernard Manning. Not Les Dawson, though, because Les is dead. And it would be very wrong to bestow relief upon a dead stand-up comic. Very wrong indeed. I mean, there would be rigamortis and everything else to consider. Oh, and not Roger de Courcey and Nookie Bear either, because Roger is a ventriloquist and therefore does not count as a stand-up comic, and Nookie Bear is a puppet who does not really feel any great benefit (sexual or otherwise) from receiving comic relief (oral or otherwise).

This year’s Red Nose Day for Comic Relief takes place on Friday 16 March, and that - to explain the matter for any passing aliens who might be visiting - is why everyone will be wearing little plastic red noses and sitting semi-clothed in baths brimming over with baked beans. It’s not because we’re alcoholics or clowns. And it’s not, despite what I claimed in the previous paragraph, because we want to get up close and far too personal with Jim ‘Offensive Racist Fuckwit’ Davidson. No. It’s because, in our heart of hearts, we like to laugh and we like to do a lot of good work for charity. Or “charidee”, as Sir Cliff Richard would have it.

Are you still here? Marvellous.

Bloggers - those strange people who write online journal type linky things filled with nonsensical tosh about their life and their thoughts and their sexual perversions and their kittens (though emphatically not sexual perversions with kittens) - like doing a lot of good work for charity too. But they don’t like to talk about it. Plus, they’re shy and retiring creatures - no no no, they are, stop guffawing at the back - and sitting in a bathful of Heinz’s 57 varieties of baked bean on Red Nose Day does not fill them with the same sense of joy as your average wacky, zany and thoroughly annoying individual wearing a lurid shirt and shouting “I’m mad, me!” in order to raise money for good causes.

Recognising the terrible social inadequacies that beset these blogging bloggers of bloggery when it comes to national occasions such as Comic Relief, one of their esteemed fraternity - a particularly Troubled Diva called Mike, who is not to be confused with the equally troubled diva that is Shirley Bassey and her alleged addiction to prescription cough linctus, has come up with a splendid idea. His splendid idea is that we, you and us - UK bloggers one and all - should put together some of our finest, most wittiest, most funniest and most humorousest blog entries, and then make them sit in a bath of baked beans for a week whilst laughing uproariously because it’s so completelly and utterly crazy but it’s all for charity, so that’s okay then, yes, really it is.

Oh no, that’s not right. Hang on.

No, Mike’s idea is that these chucklesome blog entries, guaranteed to induce fits of frivolity across the nation and possibly even the entire known world, should be compiled into a book! In just a week! In just seven days! In just 168 hours! The book will be called Shaggy Blog Stories: a collection of amusing tales from the UK blogosphere and oh gosh, it’ll make you laugh. We hope. It’ll make you cry. Oh no, no - it won’t make you cry, except with mirth. And It’ll make you giggle until you wet yourself, particularly if you’re one of those aforementioned alcoholics whose troubling addiction to the contents of that brown paper bag you bought from Threshers has become so bad that you’ve lost control of your bladder and fallen foul of the perils of incontinence

I know what you’re wondering, though. You’re wondering - indeed, you’re probably asking aloud at this very moment - “Just how can a book featuring so many different bloggers be put together in only a week? A week? It’s crazy! It’s madness! It’s another exclamation that I can’t quite think of!” Well, that’s the best part of this fantastic wheeze, because Mike - friend of the stars and of numerous blogging types - has managed to enlist the services of his best pal Lulu, aging Scottish pop pixie last seen ogling members of Take That in a frankly disturbing way for a woman of her advancing years, to carry out this feat of lightning fast self-publishing. I’m sure you’ll agree that this is an astonishing coup, the likes of which simply makes you want to shout. Shout shout shout shout shout. Everybody shout now. Come on and shout now. Or don’t. Just sit quietly, because I’ve nearly finished.

So that’s it. A book of tattifilarious and hilarious blog entries from the creme de la creme of UK bloggery. In a week. Which will then be available for you to purchase in order to cheer up depressed friends and relatives, in the process making money for those people less fortunate than ourselves. Like the alcoholic gentleman in the picture, who promises not to spend it on numerous bottles of methylated spirits. Though I’m not sure he should be trusted, frankly.

I have expounded at length, and now I am exhausted. Tired. Spent. As spent as Jim Davidson will be next Friday, on Red Nose Day itself, having received his Comic Relief. For further clarification, details and words that make sense, get yourself over to Troubled Diva. Take part. Do your bit. Laugh. Because if you laugh then the world laughs with you; cry and you get accused of spoiling the jovial atmosphere. But most of all, remember that we’re doing it for the kids and the poor people who can’t even afford to have a blog of their own, the sad wretches. And we’re doing it because they’re worth it. Maybe.

Apology: the Shaggy Blog Stories endeavour is only open to bloggers. Normal people need not apply. Oh, and you have to be from the UK. So once again, normal people need not apply.

Another apology: I have realised, with a growing sense of alarm, that I am probably going to have to delve as far back as 2003 in my archives in order to find a suitable post for this collection that could even be considered remotely ‘funny’. Oh dear. Tragic Relief next year, anyone? Anyone? Hello?