Get Your Funny Out

Oh look, Comic Relief is upon us once again, exploding onto our screens in a shower of hilarious wigs and dancing newsreaders. We can look forward to spending ten rib-tickling hours watching Lenny Henry try to remember how television works whilst Fearne Cotton interviews a baked bean wallowing fireman in a Leeds car park and Bono asks us to donate to the U2 fund by performing their latest over-rated wailfest faster than you can say ‘tax-dodger’. Fortunately the good ship Gervais has appeared on the horizon and will be docking in time to prevent the constant starving African interruptions from dragging down the mood too much. So that’s good.

The nationwide rag-week leading up to Red Nose Day never really changes. I saw a man selling the Big Issue in town wearing a red wig and nose. Nice to know that the money from his sales is being spent wisely isn’t it. Not that I buy it of course (the crossword’s shit: ‘to live in a house illegally, 5 letters, S-Q-something-something-something’) but I find it quite difficult to do feel sorry charitable for someone wearing a novelty nose formed into a smile resembling Sian Lloyd’s. They just don’t scream ‘hard times’. In fact, maybe if they did scream at passers by it would help. One inch from their faces so that flecks of corrosive homeless spittle settled on their foreheads as they pretend to be fascinated by their shoes.

Even members of the animal community are being silly for charity. A short legged pony has been larking about fooling people into thinking that he’s sinking into a swamp. It’s a lovely idea, people seeing this ‘sausage pony’ standing in a field, waving its hooves and crying, only to bugger off chuckling to itself once the rescue party appears.

I’m actually a little bit jealous, because if you’re a pony out on the town, seductively neying “they call me… the sausage” must make enticing people to your boudoir that little bit easier.

Of course thinking about it, they are horses.

(BBC: 'Sausage Pony Prompts 999 Calls')