Like Me

Today I was shocked to hear that Irish people do not tell jokes. A non Islander, colleague of mine, (yes I am of the employed variety, but more of that another time. I will take the congratulations graciously and bestow my thanks for your kind wishes in return) tells me that Irish people are not funny or at least do not have fun. I was bowled over. "Explain!" I exclaimed, excitedly exiting my exfoliating contraption (poetic licence?! Chair)

Whatever could she mean? Did she mean that Irish people do not tell endless formulaic jokes to each other ranging from chickens crossing highways to all manner of nationalities and members of the cloth entering bars? Or are we simply a serious race with way too many other things to worry about? I did what any logical human being would do, I demanded of her, "What do you mean?". Having composed herself as two sets of Irish eyes peered down at her, my Irish colleague suddenly pricked her ears, ready to cry foul. She explained calmly that in the work situation Irish people were very serious, that banter was scarce and that they just got on with their work with minimal fuss. 

I was very surprised, while the work environment is undoubtedly very busy and there are few openings for craic, it seemed strange that we came across in this manner. I put up a fight, "Am I not funny? Do I not make you laugh? Am I serious and hardworking? Careful how you answer that last one!" Again, with utter politeness, it was explained that I was one of the few that looked to have a laugh at almost every turn, but in general this was not the norm.

That got me thinking, why isn't everyone looking to have a joke and a laugh? Would it be so difficult to do? And why, why oh why, did I appear so offended at the thought that someone might not find me funny, uproariously hilarious even?!

I struggle in serious conversation. It takes a lot of concentration, trying to keep up with the other person's logical train of thought is a challenge. Don't get me wrong, I can do it, and I have done it and will continue to do it but God knows the amount of times I have thought of something funny to say in the most serious of situations. I was at an interview recently, admittedly a relaxed styled interview, held in a bar. It was going well, I was engaging in conversation, I was suggesting ideas and I was even asking questions. The interviewer was explaining something to me and I was wondering if at twelve o'clock we would have our ties round our heads, dancing the mambo with way too many pints on board. Cue drastic snap back to reality as I scrambled to catch up with conversation. Maybe I just like the challenge!

I have often wondered why I take it so personally when my sense of humour is called into question. I suppose it is some kind of defence mechanism, I want to hide behind humour because I don't want people to see the real me. I deflect attention away from myself with a smart remark here and a cheeky comment there, hoping no one will look deep into my eyes and see I am a tortured soul behind it all. That is of course the easy pop psych analysis.

The truth is a lot less interesting. I just enjoy a laugh, I love to have a joke. It fills me with energy and that is how I get from morning time to night time. I step over the line, I say things I shouldn't and do plenty that is not wise. If I was using humour as a defence mechanism I wouldn't care if people mentioned it or not, it is not part of me so it wouldn't bother me. I would like to think that once you get to know the real me that fun and laughter are part and parcel. I guess it is something important to me so I defend it rather than it defending me, funny that.

But enough about me, are we as a nation serious and dull? I beg to differ. I have numerous friends, ranging from men all the way to women. Some I have known since I was the age I am now and others I only met when I was in primary school. There are lots of them, people I would trust with my life, people I would go to in the most drastic of situations knowing they would and could help and people I just bloody well enjoy spending time with. There is huge variety in this group of people but the one thing that remains constant is their ability to share in a laugh and a joke.

Maybe the work place has become more serious since I was there last. Maybe it is time for me to change my ways in such a professional environment. I reckon today will be a defining day in that theory. Why, you ask? Well, today I will bring 

• 4 Dip Dabs
• 1 Bumper Bag of Drumsticks, Refresher bars, Love Heart, Fruity Pops, Mr Chews (I have just read, "contents may not include all those shown")
• 3 Kinder Surprises
• 1 Large Box of Pic 'n' Mix
• 3 Sherbert Fountains
• 2 Wham Bars
• 2 Refresher Bars
• 5 Freddos

That should put a smile on everyone's face! 

Confident Compliments

I grew up on a small island, where everyone knows everyone. That is to say, I know your business, you know mine. It is a great country, still today can you walk down the street and make eye contact with everyone you pass and not feel as though you have gently caressed your opposite number in places they may have no need, want or desire to be caressed. 

We are a friendly little island, this is not to say we have not been affected by the monstrous invasion of personal technologies onto our highways and bye ways, we have. But where others might embrace the ability to block out the sounds of the outside world, replacing everyday's symphony of sounds with Beethoven's fifth, our shrewd nation drop the sound right down, and on the train or the bus, we go about what we do naturally. So, while our fellow traveler is deep in juicy conversation with their previous night's lover, we, with earphones firmly implanted in straining ears, under the shadow of musical enjoyment, pick up another tit bit of info to be used at a later date.

Compliments are the oddest of creatures. They are designed to lift the recipient, but not too much that they levitate to an exalted position. Just enough to give them a boost but there is always the reproach stored in the psyche for that most awkward of chance occasions. The receiver takes the compliment, gorges on it, spreads it around their body, seeping through their veins. The compliment is doing what it shouldn't, it has gone too far. It is out of control, the recipient is experiencing surges of energy to parts of their body dormant for years, walking ten foot tall now, they take on all tasks and dominate. 

It goes something like this.  Compliment giver, "Hey, I haven't seen you in ages, you look great." "Why thank you. I've been in the gym working really hard, eating all the right things, I've stopped drinking alcohol and now I only cycle when I'm feeling lazy, the rest of the time I run everywhere", replies the recipient, misunderstanding the compliment. "You don't think you are overdoing it? Now that I think about it you do look a bit gaunt, nothing a huge steak and good night out wouldn't fix". Tables completely turned in one fell swoop.

I have spent time in other countries, one super power in particular, where their offspring are showered with compliments from the day they are born. "Well done for eating your dinner", "Super job on peeing", "Mummy is so proud of you today for doing what you were told". These children grow into adults who can command any social situation with confidence. They can walk into a room and instantly strike up a conversation with a stranger, supremely confident in their ability to converse in a coherent way. From my island they do not come.

I was back in a classroom situation for the first time in a long time recently. I walked into the room like I was walking onto a yacht, except this yacht was very old and the floor was in danger of disappearing at each step, or so it would appear from the way I approached my entry. So head down I proceeded carefully to the nearest free seat. Jacket off, bag down, bag open, notes out. Take out the phone, check for messages I know have not arrived, phone away. Then and only then, when I have only an imperceptible amount of sweat on my brow do I take my first tentative look around at my fellow classmates, sizing them up, like a polar bear that has encountered a penguin.

The first opportunity to speak is a harrowing time. What is your name and where do you work? "eh...I work in my name is and I'm from eh... that is all". That is what it sounded like, if anyone in the room could have heard it. Lunch time. Oh Jesus, talking to people I don't know. Ok, just pretend like you know them. "I used to love when the Christmas catalogue came through the door, I would spend ages reading it at breakfast when I was a kid". I said this to a woman that works for a massive Homeware and Fashion online store with a paper catalogue. "Why were you reading our catalogue as a kid?" "No, I meant the toy catalogue!" Why have I just told this perfectly reasonable woman that I read a toy catalogue as a child? Little did I know that this experience would stand to me nearly 30 years later.

Despite all this, I love my island and it's people. If you are from here don't get carried away, when I say love, I mean like!

Smile

Physically, as I have said before, I am not female and I have less than 30 years experience on these vast plains. It is time for another piece in the jigsaw of my being. I have a smile. One that is wide, and bright and white. A more useful tool I will never know. My long, flowing locks will grey and fall, my imposing, athletic physique will shrivel and crumble and my confident stride will become a mere shuffle. If I am left with only my smile I will be a happy man and you will see it on my face.

When you smile the world smiles with you, and there are few things more satisfying than making the world smile. Whether it be the little old lady who at first is nonplussed with the holding of a door, smack her between the eyes with a bit of shining white and she will bound through that arch. What about the lad you accidentally meet eyes with across the crowded DART, instant reaction is to look away embarrassed because... because nothing, you looked at someone and they happened to look at you. Next time, as R Kelly might say, "Stand up tall, look 'em in the face and Smile".

If the eyes are the windows to the soul then the smile is a reflection of your sense of fun. I never want to lose my smile because once that goes then it will herald the sad demise of my sense of humour, and with that will go the very fibre of my being. As we become more and more distant in this ever changing world I reckon our base functions keep us human. A three year old farted on me recently, she told me as much and then burst out laughing. A smile cracked across my visage as the joy such a simple act brought to her face became apparent. Once the ripple of laughter and gas spread through the room there was not a sullen face to be found.

I remember once a friend said he saw me wandering through campus with a big smile on my face. He said he laughed as he imagined the kinda thing I was thinking of. I never told him, partly because I was ashamed and partly because I liked the idea of him thinking of the random things I might be thinking. If the random nonsense was making me smile then hopefully it was doing the same to him.

It was Barbie Girl. Barbie Girl by the Danish-Norwegian Behemoths of Pop that we know and love as Aqua. I was walking through campus, minding my own business, listening to my Creative Zen, when "Hiya Barbie..."