By the end of the night, when the prehistoric bar flies had become encased in a warm amber light, we had worked out between us that a fashionable murderer would of course be reluctant to spill blood incase it got on his shoes and hence the preference for strangling. One of the advantages of having your liquor habit largely floated by a lawyer’s Amex is that seeking employment ceases to be an imperative & so you can always find the time to work through these sorts of problems in detail.
“Every jerk thinks he’s entitled to an opinion,” said Francis. “So here’s mine.” Francis’ beef was with a certain type of utterly ordinary chap, entirely devoid of natural charm, who after ten years in accounting turns into a guy who thinks he’s one pun away from being a prodigal stand-up comedian. You don’t want to be stuck at dinner next to such a man on any given Tuesday. “Every sentence they utter contains word play,” said Francis. These are the kind of ‘jokes’ which we are all capable of making but never do because they’re not funny. “When really,” said Francis, “your true comedian only needs to sit quietly and listen to other people talking to come up with their material.”
“They are labouring under a misapprehension,” said I. “And that is, assuming that comedians are buoyant & happy people. When really it is no joke thinking up jokes all of the time & depressing too as I think you’ll agree looking around us now that there’s little here that could be considered amusing.”