I'm Back, Mack, and not so Slack

Remember my stupendous words on pride, reader? Remember how giddy-eyed and marmot-brained it made you feel, as though you were dropped into a world of wonder from a gilded duck giving you a thumbs-up? Well prepare your limbic system for another onslaught of ecstasy, because I’m about to give it a saucy ear-nibble in the form of talking about something similar.

If you recall, my brain-bending hypothesis is this: pride should be felt more strongly the more of a hand you had in whatever it is you’re potentially proud about. I demonstrated this with Tom Nash’s Stupendous Indicator of Pride, which incidentally has now appeared in 5 academic journals and has been given its own late night chat show on Bravo.

This time, I am going to talk about something that can almost be demonstrated on the same graph, except that it is the exact opposite of pride. It is the Clark Kent to pride’s Superman; the stutter to pride’s Gareth Gates. I’m sure you can guess what I’m talking about, since most of you will feel this particular emotion 25 hours a day. I am talking about shame. Or, if you prefer it more dramatically: shaaaaaame!

Now, it cannot have escaped your notice that I am more middle-class than the central desk in a schoolroom. I pronounce my grass to rhyme with sparse, mother to rhyme with other and not lover, and cannonball to rhyme with magpie (though this may be a plain mistake). I have a white-collar job except for days when I have a dirty neck. I can usually be found wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a pleasant slogan, like Ruffle Ruffle Tick Tock, It’s Book o’Clock or Ribena! The Sweet Treat That Can’t Be Beat!, either of which would certainly earn me a bruised eyeball if I wore it in public.

Nonetheless, I feel no shame about my middle-class roots and sensibilities. Nor do I expect anybody on any other foothold on the social strata to flop over with their head in their hands, weeping with natal misery.

This might seem like an obvious thing to say. Nash, your obvious sentiment has no place here, you might scream at me, like a seacow whose steaming algae pie has been stolen from its window-ledge.

However, for something that seems (to me) eminently sensible, people regularly nevertheless act in ways antithetical to its ideals.

No doubt you will be familiar with the common fallacy that working class people are less intelligent than middle-or upper-class people. This is so much manticore nuts, of course, and it is generally understood to be by most people these days. But there’s also a blind disgust swinging the other way, which seems to be much more accepted in society.

Why, for instance, is it okay to equate posh with jerksack? Somebody born upper-class has approximately as much choice over the family and style to which they were born as a shoelace has over being tied, or Simon Cowell’s hair has over looking like a field of tiny Guiness turds.

Sometimes, people mock other people for fun, and it’s not actually harmful. I recently spent a pleasant afternoon with somebody from Essex, and many a splendid joke was made about knifecrime and so forth. No doubt, we were sitting on top of the world, swinging our feet over the edge gleefully. This is because half of the humour in the jokes revolved around the fact that neither of us actually believed in these outrageous slurs.

But when people actually take their attitude from such arbitrary, crazy distinction, it is damaging and divisive, like a cutting review printed on a butcher’s knife. I am as uncomfortable when somebody disparagingly mutters toff twat as I am when somebody says common cockplate.

There is a counter argument that my approach ignores context. After all, Nash, you dribbling wizard, posh people have been in a position of power for centuries and they have lorded it over poorer folk without a semblance of pity or chin! It’s quite reasonable for us to widdle in their cereal bowls!

Now, I thoroughly understand and appreciate the importance of context. It is as important as remembering to double-check the connection to a colostomy bag. But it still remains true that if somebody has done wrong by somebody, then that person should shoulder the blame and the shame. But to tar everybody who was born into money (that is, a wealthy family, not a Scrooge McDuck pool) with the same manky brush is as wrong as treating people who were born into poverty as a mass and not individuals.

True, the culture that one is raised in affects the individual. Somebody born in an Islamic country is more likely to be a Muslim than a Zoroastrian. We derive our beliefs, ethics and way of understanding the world from our surroundings. But it is nonetheless somebody’s personal actions that they must account for, not those of their parents, teachers or polar bears.

This impacts on my personal life too, which as you should know, is totally out of bounds. If that abstract ball comes into my metaphorical garden again, I’m going to pop it with imaginary shears.

For instance, I absolutely refuse to take personal responsibility for atrocities committed in apartheid, since I had absolutely zilch to do with it, and I would not endorse it. However, because

I live in Great Britain, it is sometimes expected for me to feel ashamed when hearing tales of dreadful violence and segregation.

I feel unremittingly sad for the human race, and those individuals involved, of course. My refusal

to feel ashamed does not diminish my empathy for the victims. But for me to feel ashamed of that would be like the Germans of today feeling shame for the two World Wars – nuttier than the contents of a squirrel’s shorts.

On the other hand, were I to ruin a friend’s haircut with a well-placed piece of gum, I would feel terribly ashamed, and rightly so. The action makes the person, not the culture.

I am, of course, incensed with shame at my laxity in updates. But that’s all about to change, readers! Set your eyes to stunned and your knees to quivery, because Nash is back in town and he’s probably gonna be kipping on your sofa, and eating all of your bran flakes, Team World!

Fun Fake Facts

I’m a man of simple pleasures. One such pleasure is the telling of fanciful lie-jokes. I wrote a post relatively recently that consisted almost entirely of these, which I hear some folk liked.

I have a Twitter account, you know. And on this micro-blogging, psycho-blogging tool, I have

a meme called Fun Fake Fact Friday. On this day, I liberally sprinkle hearty 140-character mistruths across the internet, like lexical dandruff. And I thought ‘why am I giving these to a stinking bunch of beautiful cyberjerks when my sexually-pleasing blog readers are missing out?’.

I was right to wonder this, and now I intend to rectify the matter. Each blog post will contain the previous Friday’s fun fake facts, for your depraved pleasure. I hope you like them.

By the way, if you feel like contributing fun fake facts of your own, you absolutely blooming must – either add them in the comments here, or get your own Tweetle account and add them on a Friday, preferably with the tag #funfakefactfriday, or #FFFF.

This is a bumper load, to start us off with a bang. Enjoy!

Science fact: Butternut squashes are not a species. They are simply anorexic pumpkins.

Geog fact: There's a new New York! So New York now named 'York'. York to be 'Old York'. Mapmakers said to be 'shitting selves'.

History fact: contrary to popular belief, King Charles was not a spaniel. He was a collie.

Celeb fact: Britney “Spears” is a nickname referring to her lifelong love of whale hunting. Real name? Britney Harpoons.

Bird fact: Penguins can, in fact, fly. They choose not to do so to reduce their carbon flipperprint.

Stats fact: Deaths in Canadian hikers fell by 68% after their local grizzlies lost the right to bear arms.

Phrase fact: “you've only yourself to blame” is a corruption, referring to Cat Stevens’ Islamic name (and culpability).

When they split the Atomic Kitten, the resulting explosion left sub-Atomic kittens. Whether they are dead or alive remains to be seen.

Military history and beloved children's icons were strangely married on 1st March 1941, when Germany entered Great Uncle Bulgaria.

Often overlooked is Jesus' raising of Papa Lazarou (who later claimed the son of God to be his wife).

Religion fact: Popularised in the 16th C, Calvinism is an intriguing belief in the immutability and omnipotence of an imaginary tiger.

Xmas fact: Coca-Cola as we know it today was invented by Father Christmas. He put it in bad children's stockings to rot their teeth.

PC World was designed as a theme park. It changed direction after 7 deaths on “The OverClocker”. A Random Access Memorial still stands .

Famed intellectual Noam Chomsky has never won a game of Monopoly. He claims it's due to the game's inherent capitalist hegemony .

Maths' most embarrassing moment: when mathematicians lost the number 18,471. "We've looked everywhere but we can't find the bugger".

Insect fact: The Latin name of the common garden wasp, Vespula vulgaris, literally translates as “flying fuzzy knuckle”.

Football fact: 1997’s England manager appointment dashed the team’s hopes to enter Britain’s Got Talent as an Acapello group

Energy fact: Parrots are the only animals which can photosynthesise. They are too lazy to do so, however.

“Cats’ eyes” road reflectors were invented by Cedric “Moggy Murderer” Mansfield, the only man the RSPCA ever executed.

In a 2002 episode of Hollyoaks, all the female characters wore masks resembling Arnie. No male viewers noticed.

Element Fact: the first element to be named for commercial interests was Magnersium

Catholicism fact: To be sainted in the Catholic Church, one must be fired out of a canon.

The vuvuzela is the official WC horn due to its "drawn-out, dull & monotonous sound, perfectly complementing the sport."

The author of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, is “dismayed” at recent film Human Centipede’s adaptation of the orig. text.

Birthday boy Paul McCartney's favourite song is his Bob the Builder theme ring tone

Folksters Mumford & Sons have been in a family feud for years. Now their rivals are releasing an album as Sonford & Mums.

Ming the Merciless first appeared in FG only when original villain, Ming the Trouserless, inspired less fear than hoped.