Day 323: I Am Stirred To Seek Out Vacuous Twattage

I have an email from Dan!!! This is hot news indeed, for he is finest typographer in Great Britain and endlessly busy polishing serifs in his lofty studio in the beating heart of London's fashionable Soho.

And yet he has time to send me electronic mail! A treat indeed, particularly when you consider that he also provided the line pulsing in the wrist of my last post. And what does Dan have to say?

I am very much afraid I am forced to publish his electronic mail in its near-entirety!


"Dear NWM,

It should be noted that the correct response to "No 'I' in team" is in fact to look the person in the eye as malevolently as possible and after half a beat, say: "...But there IS a 'U' in cunt".

As an aside...

Potted Wisdom is bad, but I think Potted Humour is a bit worse. Potted Humour being the sort which people wheel out in knee-jerk reaction to certain questions or statements by others, or to certain situations. The classic being:

“Sugar?” “No thanks, I’m sweet enough!" (Ideally this will be followed by “Ouch, look, that actually HURT”.)

These people need to be shamed. Publicly. And I hate that watch-out-here-comes-the-hilarious-punchline timbre in their voices. I was once washing my car at a jet wash thing at the petrol station, and some knobber came wandering by and said loudly in a chirpy way:

“You can do mine next!” (laughs uproariously at his own joke), to which I replied equally loudly: “You must be fucking joking, someone might think it was mine”. (Looks deadly serious.)

Other examples:

“Is it Thursday?”
“All day”

“Are you all right?”
“No, I’m half left”

“What’s the time?”
“Time you got a watch”

“Like another drink/cake/etc?”
“Go on then; twist my arm”

“Do you like children/cats/dogs/trains?”
“Yes but I couldn’t eat a whole one”

Flashing lights and sirens often trigger such off-the-peg fuckwittery as “He’s in a rush/late for his tea/needs the loo” or “They’re coming for you!”

Or leaving a door open to hear: “Born in a barn?”

To be honest I don’t even know where I’m going with this lunchtime diatribe. I’m not sure if your office wisdom things are a separate problem or merely a subset in this venn diagram of disgrace.

Mr B"

Needless to say my cocktail shaker falls to the floor with a clatter; soon thereafter, an impassioned reply shoots from the tips of my tiny little monkey fingers:

"DAN
I FUCKING LOVE IT MAN. IT IS BRILLIANT. CAN I PUBLISH IT, LIKE WRITE IT IN MY WEBLOG, I THINK THE PEOPLE WILL LIKE IT.
CHEERS MAN
NWM"

Some more time passes, some of which I fill reading an email from my Special Friend (and some of which I am still puzzling over; what indeed is ABR, and is the reverse engorgement really necessary?).

But then sounds the happy ping of another electronic mail arriving in my virtual postbox - and yes! It is from Dan! He has GIVEN ME PERMISSION, and moreover - oh happy day - has laid open a challenge, nay, INVITATION to you, my readers! :

"Dear NWM

Yes you can publish it if you like.

I identified them as "Things Which Will Get You In My Cunt Book If I Hear You Say Them" some time ago, and have never quite known what to do with them. I might actually make a book.

In it I may even include some special pictures showing some of the visual cuntery that people do in lieu of real proper spontaneous humour. Like holding fingers like a crucifix to ward off ‘evil’ Brussels sprouts/colleagues/other cunts or maybe putting rabbit ear fingers up behind someone’s head in a photo.

It might even be nice to invite MonkeyReaders™ to contribute with bits of off-the-peg vacuous twattage that have annoyed them over the years?

Mr B"

Come on MonkeyReaders™! Send in your vacuous twattage!

It only remains for me to say: thanks, Mr B!