Backwards In High Heels

The Joke Is On Us

I caught a few moments of The Wright Stuff this morning just as they began talking about Jimmy Carr and a story I wasn't aware of. In one of his stand up shows, Jimmy mad a gag about amputee soldiers. To paraphrase, the joke went along the lines of - one thing you can say about all the amputee soldiers is we're going to have a hell of a paralympic squad in 2010.

Some media, politicians and commentators have lept on this with some seemingly wanting to amputate Jimmy's head.

The debate on The Wright Stuff mainly concentrated on a few of themes, those who thought it was shameless and distasteful, those who believe comedy must stretch all boundaries of taste (and with Jimmy's material you get what you expect) and others saying it was an extension of a type of dark and self deprecating humour often observed in such areas as the forces (indeed some quarters suggest Jimmy got the joke from amputee soldiers themselves whom he has visited).

It was even suggested that Jimmy's joke was in a roundabout way a compliment to the soldiers.

My take is that if the joke is on anyone, it is on us - the general public. It was an uncomfortable joke because it made us uncomfortable. For all our oohing and ahhing over our forces involvement in Afghanistan and Iraq how many of us know the real casualty numbers? The media picks up the highly emotive deaths, but bar the odd late night documentary, how many of us now just how many of our soldiers and armed forces are coming back with horrendous injuries. Some will argue it's a fruitless war, others will argue soldiers know what they are signing up for. Whilst all these people are arguing (from the comfort of their own homes), real people are coming back to face a new reality of disability.

I know people in the armed forces and people who have worked the medical units in Afghanistan, the number is staggering and the number is rising. Over 230 soldiers have been seriously injured this year alone. Hundreds of patients - UK troops, Nato troops and Afghans - go through the army medical unit each month.

Now put the joke in context - translate it, why are we going to have one hell of a paralympic team? Because we have hundreds of men and women coming home severely injured - that is the true point of the joke.

And today we are talking about the issue because a one sentence joke, which made you take a sharp intake of breath, reminded you of a cold hard truth. A politician hasn't put this back on the agenda, a heartfelt documentary didn't make us sit up and listen. A comedian, who has taken the time out to visit these men and women, cut us straight to the quick. Many a true word said in jest. Comedy has many powers, and this is one of them.

So the likes of MPs who are calling for Jimmy to be dragged across the coals add this sick joke to your list - I'm so glad you are up in arms about this and so glad you have 2 arms to up in unlike some of our soldiers. Now kindly piss off and do something truly useful for our troops instead of flapping your mouths.

I Twitter Therefore I Am Sane

I have always been a twitterer. I have twittered all my life, before the days of the internet, when twittering 'oop north' just meant having a good, brisk rant. Now I have my brisk rants in 140 characters or less...and I love it.

Working for myself and from home, Twitter is my equivalent of office chatter. And, every now and then, the office is a hive of opinion.

Today is one of those extraordinary Twitter days, as we all have a good rant about Jan Moir's hideous excuse for journalism in the Daily Mail regarding Stephen Gately's death. She has managed to knit together innuendo, spite, unsubstantiated rumour and insensitivity, which all crescendos to a conclusion so breathtakingly dumb that the world record for gasteds being flabbered has been broken. The chance to spout off how mad it made me was refreshing, and to see others equally as incensed was a nice reminder that the majority are humane, though so much of mainstream media would have us think otherwise.

Earlier this week I was bemoaning the new garden fence that the new neighbour put up, mainly as the old one had fond memories. Not that I have some strange fence fetish (though I'm sure if I die, Ms Moir will write an article claiming I had sordid relations with it and the garden pergola before my unnatural demise).

No, it was the fence over which me and the previous neighbours would chat. It was over that 3ft fence she showed me the ultrasound of her twins, one of whom was sadly lost. It was over that fence, that some tears were shed.

You'd wave as you put the washing out. The dog would peak his head over for a fuss. "It's cold today", "It's hot today", "Better get the grass cut", "Are the kids looking forward to Christmas/Easter/school?" - it wasn't about great debates, it was a literal nod to a fellow person.

The new fence is over 6ft - "this is a boundary".

We bemoan the lack of local community and neighbourhoods but we crave privacy and our 6ft fences.

Twitter is my new 3ft garden fence. "It's cold today", "It's hot today", "Better get the grass cut", "Are the kids looking forward to Christmas/Easter/school?"

Someone nods back and I return to work in the knowledge life is going on.

Two Birds, One Stone

As a total aside I'm sure 'two birds, one stone' was quite frequent for Mick & Keith in the 60s...but I digress...

The story that caught my eye the other week was one regarding a regigging of the wedding service to include the baptism of any children the couple already have. The Church have had to accept that people try before they buy.

Would I be heartless to suggest another double ceremony - wedding and funeral? Then you could marry a millionaire with a dicky ticker, give him a heart stopping kiss after he's signed on the dotted line and bury him. Jobs a good 'un and you haven't wasted two outfits.