So, I went to Paris and took some photos. It was kind of an out-of-reality experience, you know? Well, maybe you don’t. I suppose I’m trying to say that it kind of feels like maybe it wasn’t real now, looking back on the week, since it was all so far outside my normal realm of operation. Especially that bit where I found myself shaving a mohawk into Hilary’s head…
Also: some ladies in the queue at passport control accused me of being American. We’d nearly reached the end of the queue when one of them said aloud “Oh, I thought you were American, or Canadian or something”. At this point I was yet to utter a single word in the presence of these women. Not one. So this raises two questions.
1. Why exactly did I seem to be American? Perhaps… the way I walked?
2. She thought I was, but did not any longer. What did I do to change her mind, still without opening my mouth?
This has happened before, actually. A cashier at Asda suspected me of being a Cypriot, and a loss-adjuster suggested I was of Californian extraction, though in both cases this was after I spoke. Perhaps I exude some… air of foreign-ness? My mind is addlepated (or possibly addle-plated, which would at least increase its resale value).
I think that about covers it. Any questions?
Good. Now back to reality, with exams and red meat and very little cheese.
Have you ever found yourself merely whelmed? Or perhaps blessed with gorm? Maybe you met someone who was acting particularly solent?
In short: what’s with words that look like they’ve been constructed by adding shit to smaller words, only no such roots exist? (namely, over/underhwelmed, gormless and insolent, for the slower children amongst you) I’m sure there are more, but they escape me right now, feel free to scribble some on a postcard and send them in, we’ll read out the best ones on next week’s show.
Also: have you ever heard someone talk about that before? I mean, like a comedian or something? I doubt I’m the first person to stumble across this oddity of language, but I nevertheless find myself perturbed to learn I am held in suspicion, pending a high-profile public inquiry, of regurgitating this material from some higher source by a group of recent acquaintances.
Man, who would do that? Not I, this is for sure. Mostly because comedians generally rustle up a far better delivery than me, with vim, vigour and a whole range of funny expressions. I’d probably only mess it up if I tried.
All of which begs the question (which may or may not get you a fat lip, depending on whether he’s feeling all WWRD that day), are you still being original if you didn’t know that someone else did it already? Perhaps it still qualifies as original, but also brands you as poorly-read, a sin surely far worse than a lack of originality!
