Monday, 28 March 2016

When Being Called Mad Won't Do.

For those who don’t know what I’m talking about when I mention the white-horse-called-Kevin joke, let me repeat it:

A white horse walked into a bar and ordered a drink. ‘Blimey,’ said the barman, ‘a talking horse. Do you know they named a whisky after you?’ ‘What,’ said the horse, ‘Kevin?’

I told that joke to the woman in the pet shop last week. She didn’t laugh, she just said: ‘I had a hamster called Kevin.’ ‘OK,’ I said, ‘a hamster walked into a bar…’ Only it couldn’t work, of course, because – as far as I know – there isn’t a whisky called Hamster.

So I tried to explain to myself why the white-horse-called-Kevin joke is my favourite, and attempted a variation:

The Duke of Wellington walked into a bar and ordered a drink. ‘Blimey,’ said the barman, a talking duke. Do you know they named a style of gumboot after you?’ ‘What,’ said the Duke, ‘Arthur?’

It isn’t quite the same, is it? So I decided to get clever and came up with:

A girl called Madeline walked into a café and ordered a scone. ‘Blimey,’ said the proprietor, ‘a talking Madeline. Do you know they named a confection after you?’ ‘What,’ said the Madeline, ‘fruit cake?’

But only Madelines who know they’re mad would get it, so I suppose the original will have to remain unchallenged.

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