Cartoon Humour Blog from Commytooper

Commy has been discussing the type of trial lawyer he would want representing him.

While most agree that requisite qualities included an encyclopedic knowledge of the judicial process together with a logical, incisive mind, Commy begged to differ.  Why, he wonders, would anyone risk their freedom by engaging a bookish, lack-lustre barrister when everyone knows the only thing guaranteed to hold sway over the general public (and therefore a jury) these days, is either a celebrity or a celebrity lawyer.  Isn’t someone with the dramatic court-room presence of a thespian, much more likely to bring in a favourable verdict?

He even put forward a few likely examples, together with possible extracts from their spellbinding court-room performances:-

• Ian Fleming – ‘We’re going to need someone to put up a bond … James’s bond’.
• Forrest Gump – ‘Verdicts are like a box of chocolates … you never know what you’re gonna get.’
• Hans Solo – ‘May the LAPD Force be with you.’
• Rhett Butler – ‘Frankly me’lud, I don’t give a damn!’
• Lauren Bacall – ‘You know who blew the whistle don’t you, Steve?’
• Patrick Swayze  – ‘Nobody puts Baby in a courtroom.‘
• Scotty from Star Trek – ‘I’m afraid it’s life Jim … but not as you know it.’
• Jack Nicholson – ‘Heeeere’s the jury!’

Commy has been considering the subject of friendship and in particular, the Facebook friend category.

While he understands that there are those amongst us  who subscribe to the theory that the number of Facebook friends one can boast about roughly equates to what a popular and generally rounded person you are, Commy isn’t buying it.  How many of these so called friends would take a bullet for you, he wonders?

After all didn’t you and your small circle of friends spend years building unbreakable bonds based on shared (usually embarassing) experiences?  Didn’t anyone thinking of joining that select little cabal have to be carefully monitored before serving, at least, a probationary period?  So what has happened to change all that?  Facebook, that’s what!

The harsh reality of life is that there are (and always will be) people who will never be told where the party is on Saturday night. (or if they are, it is the wrong address!)  Yet now, one whiff of a Facebook friend request and they are fast tracked through the probationary period, have access to all your innermost thoughts and deeds and worst of all, know exactly where the party is on Saturday night.  And yet, are we being fair?  In the real world, these innocents will always be left standing when the school teams are being picked.  By accepting them so easily into our circle of friends, aren’t we just setting them up for future disappointment?

Commy thinks the solution is for there to be a Facebook Friends grading system as follows:-

• CHOSEN FEW  (best-man/maid-of-honour candidates only)  – Access to all party locations, in-jokes and innermost feelings.
• INNER SANCTUM  (stag/hen party guests) – Practical joke initiators; given access to most in-jokes and party locations.
• OUTER CIRCLE (possible stag/hen guests/work colleagues) - Practical joke collaborators; given access to some party locations (if they bring a bottle).
• PERIMETER FENCERS (always on the outside looking in)  Practical joke victims.  Access to party locations ONLY IF they provide the venue AND all the beer.

Commy and friends have been musing on the few areas of life not infected by the many and varied missives of the Health & Safety inspectorate.

In a  world increasingly governed by litigation, ambulance chasers, and the ‘where there’s blame, there’s a claim‘ culture, Commy asks that people spare a thought for those truly hit hardest by these spontaneity kill joys.  He is, of course, referring to those unfortunate enough to be the potential sexual partners of the Health & Safety zealot.

These poor men and women who, in those first heady days of any relationship, recklessly suggest a little al fresco frolic in the park, only to find their erstwhile H&S Inspector-lover meticulously conducting a risk assessment before setting out, as follows:-

• usual hazards relating to STD’s and pregnancy … tick
• potential for humiliation from CCTV/YouTube footage … tick
• potential splinter injuries due to picnic bench collapse/tree abrasions … tick
• potential of drawing an audience of curious packs of stray dogs … tick
• potential for citizen’s arrest for public indecency … tick …

Thinking a little sexual foreplay at home would be potentially less troublesome, (perhaps even involving some light, ‘fluffy handcuff’ type bondage) our hapless romantic returns from slipping into something a little more comfortable, only to find our naked H&S jobsworth, hovering by the bed, clipboard and pen in hand:-

• repeat of point 1 above … tick
• potential robbery of all personal possessions after being shackled … tick
• potential of being held for months as a sex slave, together with resultant loss of earnings … tick
• potential humiliation of being found by rescue services, naked, handcuffed and smeared with Nutella … etc etc…

Commy suggests we’ve all endured evenings with couples who barely have a civil word to say to each other.

You’re expecting a great evening ‘breaking bread’ with old friends; couples with whom you can kick back and relax and it’s all going really rather well.  That is until the late arrival of one twosome who, for the sake of this exercise, will be known as Moody and Grumpy.   They know who they are!

From the moment they appear (separately), it’s obvious all is not well.  Your polite enquiry about the  whereabouts of Grumpy is met with a caustic response from Moody along the lines of, ‘he’s outside trying to find a large enough parking space to park his ego.’

Undaunted you push on with the evening and, against the odds, seemingly everyone’s having a good time.  Relieved that any tension appears to be dissipating, you serve your lovingly prepared food and fine wine to the assembled company.  Good natured banter is being exchanged when Grumpy, no doubt lulled into a false sense of security by Moody’s apparently effortless bonhomie, rather recklessly pushes his luck by picking at the festering scab of an argument they had before leaving the house.  Temporary ceasefire over, Moody freezes and eyes flashing in temper, spits out the words guaranteed to bring any warring couple right back to battle stations, ‘…DON’T START!’

Other guests are exchanging worried looks.  Someone comes to the rescue by making a joke which everyone, falling on this excuse to cover their embarrassment, laughs at uproariously.  Noise levels are raised for the rest of evening and, although the elephant is still in the room, no-one is in any doubt that when Moody and Grumpy take their leave (early, due to splitting headache and/or having to get up early the next morning), everyone knows that, in their household, it is going to be an extremely long and trying night.

Which brings me to Commy’s question.  Why do couples think this poisonous atmosphere has gone unnoticed? Are they so wrapped up in point scoring that they are unaware of the harsh, blemish-enhancing light this sort of pettiness bathes them in?

Commy suggests, the next time he has to endure one of these evenings, the warring factions are given the following options:-

• either they both sit on the ‘naughty step’ until they have had a chance to think about their selfish behaviour and apologise  … OR …
• for entertainment value, they are pushed into the centre of the room for a pillow fight to the death!