Playboy are setting up a new website based on comedy rather than naked girls. I wish them well, but I’m not convinced it will appeal to their loyal fans. Pictures of Hef stroking his pet raccoon would be hilarious enough to the right audience, but men who click on a Playboy site have other things on their mind.
Combining comedy and sex is a stiff challenge for the most fertile minds. The best example I can remember was Mr Dickface, the comic book character with a penis where his nose should have been. The poor fellow couldn’t hide his erections, so women were constantly giggling at him, but a lot of them were secretly turned on as well. Eventually he got a steady girlfriend and made love to her using a snorkel to avoid suffocating. Sadly, the Dickface series had to be discontinued after Disney threatened to sue the publisher for plagiarising the Pinocchio concept.
On a somewhat similar note, a man in Pennsylvania has robbed a bank wearing baggy clown pants and false breasts. Full marks to the fellow for trying to lighten the atmosphere and put everyone at ease, but people held up in banks aren’t usually in the mood for humour. Maybe his act would have gone down better if he’d held up a cosmetic surgery clinic instead and forced one of the doctors to examine his bogus boobs at gunpoint. Making the doctor declare they were superior to his own silicone creations might have got a few laughs.
The busty bank robber reminds me of an incident in my circus days. We were discussing what costumes to wear at our end-of-season fancy dress party when one of the clowns announced he’d be putting on a pair of joke breasts for the event. The female acrobats expressed their strong disapproval.
“What’s funny about a woman’s breasts, you sexist pig!” exclaimed one of them.
The clown responded to this hostile question in the only way a clown can, by bending over, blowing an enormous raspberry, and wafting an imaginary fart in the direction of his inquisitor. It’s a good thing I was on hand to defuse the situation:
“It is not the breasts, per se, which would be funny, ladies, but the presence of those succulent wonders of Nature on the torso of a buck-toothed ninny. It is the juxtaposition of the sublime and the grotesque that creates the humour.”
The girls looked at me with a degree of scepticism.
“I don’t care what position his juxta is in, it still wouldn’t be funny,” said one of them.
However, I could see that my timely intervention had softened their opposition to the clown’s intended attire. He came to the party with fake titties puffed out, and no one did anything worse than snub him, which is a bearable insult for a clown.
I can sense you’re curious about what I wore to that party. Some of you no doubt believe that a gorilla would not have required a costume. This would be an inaccurate and offensive supposition. If you must know, I went in the uniform of a Royal Navy officer, circa 1800, carrying a cat ‘o nine tails in my right hand to discourage impudent remarks.
Gorilla Bananas is taking a short vacation and will return on Monday 16th August.
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