I Love The Smell Of Name Maul In The Morning
Mauling #1:
Alec: So who’s at Zouk on Friday night? Chicks In Chains, is it?
Me: Speed. Chicks On Speed.
Alec: Oh. Heh. Freudian slip, sorry.
Mauling #2:
Alec, pointing to the big screen in Raffles Place: Oh, it’s that guy again. Michael something. Balloon. Bubble.
Me: Boo-blay. Michael Buble.
Alec: Oh.
Me: Why would anyone be called Michael Bubble?
Alec: I thought maybe it was a wacky stage name.
I live in fear as to what the man will maul next. One would think that for someone from a country where people have names like Caoilfhionn, he would be a bit better with simple English stuff.
Maybe I should tell him we’re seeing “Flashmaster Grand” on Saturday, just as an experiment.
I say, you guys should dress up in theme of the name maulings…e.g. dress in matching leather and appear handcuffed to each other tonight, and wear a big trench coat with nothing underneath tomorrow night. It’d be a hoot for a great birthday weekend! Really.
P.S. If I’d seen the name “Buble”, I’d have said “bubble” too. It’s not silly. Michael and Bubbles! That sounds familiar!
That’s from Beavis And Butthead I think. They used be surfing channels going through all these crap grunge songs and then they’d get to some hair metal and be like “Yeah.. yeeaaaaa-ah! chicks in chains! Uh-huh.. huh.”
Wow James, all this study seems to have you sharp as a pin. Good to know that all that important information isn’t shoving out all the trivial bits.
Oh !
Plate of Milk for Table No. 2 Please.
Miaow!!
Oops, didn’t mean to sound sarcastic.
It really do enjoy popping references to obscure comedy series, Calvin and Hobbes comics or ‘Ross O’Carroll-Kelly’ (its an Irish thing) and knowing that James will recognise them.
Maybe this happens only to me, but I find that when I spend lots of time around someone, we inevitably evolve a particular shared sense of humour. Michelle and I have these self-characture personas which we play around with. With some English friends I affect ultra conservative views and prejudices. And I seem to remember a running joke in my childhood where I was the grand master of the Ku Klux Klan. Hmm, what would my klan make of me now?