Sometimes the difference between the deadly serious and the irreverently humorous is narrower than the proverbial fine line. Often it takes that “banana moment” when the marching soldier slips on a fruit skin and before you know it the military march becomes a circus act. More often than we would like to admit the farcical slapstick moment is not even necessary. This happens during those moments when the serious is taken to such an extreme that no further effort (or banana moment) is necessary to transform the sombrely puritan into the farcically comic.

Whatever the case, the secret of comedy remains timing. In the case of slapstick comedy, the timing has all to do with the right slip at the right moment for the right amount of guffaws. In the more refined version of unintentional comicality, the timing has all to do with the observer and the observed being worlds apart −not physically but on a different timescale.

Timing

Take the timing of a question for example. You stand before the man who put the “n” in “nigga”. He’s sat proudly on a gold-plated chair struttin’ his stuff like there ain’t no tomorrow with not a care in the world and with a mickey-mouseish hat atop his multimillion dollar tête. He’s the Dawg with a double-g, and thanks to some hidden clause in another multimillion-dollar contract with the geezers at the channel that put the M before TV, he’s found himself on the godforsaken isle of divorce, debris and Deborah Schembri.

You make your way to the fore of the journalistic brotherhood, who have been waiting with bated breath for god knows what wise words from the self-proclaimed supapimp. You need a clip and a quote to feed the herds of plankers (sic) and commentators on the boards of your online paper. So what do you ask the man who put the rap in wrapping paper? What do you ask the man who walked defiantly out of an airport customs area bare-chested? What do you ask an entertainer − a man who earns his money on the basis of his outrageous super-starredness? What indeed?

Superstar

Why of course. You ask him why he’s left you waiting for four hours. The timing is comically supreme. In the words of the tennis ace: “You cannot be serious”. The problem with the journalist is that he comes from a background and paper that is used to pre-prepared drills and press releases. It is a background where journalists are groomed to obey and respond in pavlovian fashion to the beckoning by politicians whenever they call a press conference in order to shower the media with their above-average intelligent brainwaves or publicity stunts. It’s a world of faxed Q&As with prescriptive, uninvestigative proceedings. Then suddenly Snoop turns up. And he’s late. How dare he?

Andy Warhol underpinned every second of Snoop’s precious answer. In a nutshell: “I can. Because I am a superstar, and you just f-c-d up your 15 seconds of fame”. Little does the Doggfather know that in this land a superstar is one that can pull off big hits with words like “Inhobbkom”, “progressivi u liberali” or “Par idejn sodi” without batting an eyelid. Forget “Malice in Wonderland” (an album of Snoop’s), we’ve got “Gonzi and the Rainbow Movement” and “Joseph and the Faux Progressives”. Beat that Dawg. Still. I’m told that the Snoop kicked behinds quite satisfactorily at The Granaries of Floriana. I’m not too sure that Isle of MTV is a tourist trap of sorts but hey, not everything “kulcha” needs to be for tourists, right?  

First transport of sudden passion

It’s been an emotional week for bus drivers across the island. The countdown to today’s launching of the Arriva service has not been without its hiccups and has led to the usual flurry of self-deprecating “some-things-never-change” humour that is prone to accompany such instances. There was of course the momentary threat of putting a premature end to it all when the first rosters were communicated to the drivers. I’m not quite sure we got the full picture on this one since I seriously doubt that a company with Europe-wide experience like Arriva (and a German one to boot) would foul so badly on work shift hours.

Anyway the strike was averted late on Friday (just in time for the weekend) as our “FULL UP” buses must have set off for their last weekend of work. They will soon be off to that resting place for Bedfords and other contraptions while we are left to gawp and gape at the (hopefully) super-efficient Arriva system. We’ll be crossing our fingers that there will be no more Ill Communication (that’s the b-boys, Dogg) between the Ministry for Rural Affairs and Austin’s boys and no more need of super-complicated rerouting of the system. Incidentally, am I the only one to find it funny that the Ministry for RURAL affairs has taken to issuing press releases about parking in Sliema? Really? Rural?

Gagging

Then, just as the busy week was about to come to a close and just as my house was invaded by Portuguese and German refurbishers, out sprang Joseph Cuschieri’s words of wisdom. I have a new measure for absolute stupidity in public comments − 10 would be a regular commentator on the Times Online Comment Boards. In that case Joseph Cuschieri would be 100. The man actually (publicly) suggested that Malta should veto the funding package for Greece until Greece accepts to ratify our (his) sixth seat in the Europarliament.

Talk about timing. The only way to avoid the kind of comic gaffes that this kind of politician makes is to issue a gagging order. It’s a farce. We all know that it is but there is nothing we can do about it. Just like the American press can do little about dee-ess-kaa’s release without bail. DSK is Dominique Strauss-Kahn. A bit of research on the maid who he is supposed to have assaulted has probably resulted in the collapse of the credibility of the case’s main witness. Which means that, given that this is the US system we are talking about, the state attorney (a publicly elected official) will not be prepared to risk taking the case to court given the manner in which his main witness’s credibility ratings have plummeted. Barely had word reached the hexagon regarding this twist of events (via the well-informed correspondents at the New York Times) that the French socialists − currently engaged in the preliminaries for the next Presidential nominee − returned to applauding and fawning around their original best bet to challenge for presidency. Good timing? Remains to be seen.

LMFAO

Did anyone tell the puritans in this country what this acronym means? I suggest a good online article explaining it all. Then just open the comment boxes and... “Bob’s your uncle”. That’s just what they like to say on the comment boards. I’m glad they exist for they provide better comic relief than my childhood favourite Cub Scout Joke Book. I’m rooting for a certain Frans Said as champion comment writer of the year, and if he can’t get the joke then it’s probably time to buy a new watch.

www.akkuza.com is in slow mode thanks to the refurbishments in the domus that are taking up much of our time. We did find time to revive an old rubrique though... and those who read it are loving it. Hint: TGIL