Years ago, when I was a young teenager, say 13 or 14, I used to tell jokes to my friends at school but, because they were old jokes and everyone had heard them a million times before, I discovered quite by chance, that if I embellished them a little, used some artistic licence, and told a little story within a story, my friends began to consider my joke telling to be of a higher calibre than it indeed was.

School of Comedy

At this time in the early 70’s, there was a light entertainment, comedy sketch show on the BBC called The Two Ronnies, starring the comedians Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett who both hailed from Musical Hall and Theatre backgrounds. In one recurring sketch, Ronnie Corbett would sit in an old chair and tell a joke, which wasn’t particularly funny, but the preamble, when he would disappear off at a tangent, was the highlight. I had somehow, without really thinking about it, started doing exactly the same thing with my jokes at school, riffing off the top of my head, in the middle of a joke that we all knew too well. And the most amazing thing about it was, it worked!

I went to Netteswell Comprehensive in Harlow, Essex and occasionally, as we walked home from school, my friends would ask me to tell them a joke and so I’d suggest one they already knew, start and then just say whatever came into my head at the time.

Riffing

For example, I might start by saying something like, “There was an Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman and they were in a betting shop but it was Sunday and there wasn’t any racing on so they went to the pub instead,” and there would be a little chuckle in response so I knew I was on solid ground and this would inspire me to be a little more adventurous as I went along. So I’d say, “When they got to the pub, the barman said “Is this some kind of joke?”” and my mates would start laughing and once the atmosphere was one of merriment and joy, I could say whatever I liked as they were going to laugh anyway because now they couldn’t help themselves. And so on it went.

The Dressing Down

One day, I don’t remember where or when, I was admonished out of the blue by a teacher I think, or maybe my parents, either way an authority figure, for embellishing a story (it was clearly so traumatic, my mind has erased it from my memory). What I was asked was, why did I have to do all that idiotic stuff, which wasn’t funny, whenever I was asked to explain something? I was told to say what I had to say, and to stop being so stupid and childish.

It was a really painful dressing down and I suddenly realised, incorrectly as it transpired, that people didn’t think I was funny, clever, amusing or entertaining and in an act of desperation I decided I needed to grow up and consign all the stupid storytelling stuff to my idiotic, childish past.

The Anti-Riff

Some time later, I was walking home from school once more with a group of friends. There was a lull in the conversation and someone asked me to tell a joke. Recalling my dressing down and the need to grow up, I told the joke, straight through to the punchline and waited for the guffaws and laughter. They never came.

What I received in return for my anti-riffing approach was a long, deafening silence and I watched as some tumbleweed bounced gently across the dusty, deserted road of The Hides housing estate. In the distance a bell tolled and a dog barked.

The Stuff

“What are you doing?” asked Tony Rees.

“I’m telling a joke, what do you think I’m doing?” I replied.

“So what happened to the rest of it?”

I hadn’t expected this. “The rest of it? There isn’t any. That’s the joke.”

“I know but what’s happened to all the other stuff?” he asked.

“I don’t know any other stuff,” I mumbled, a little more perplexed.

“Yes you do,” he said, suddenly brighter. “All the stuff you add in. The stuff that’s not normally in the joke. Where’s that stuff?”

“Oh,” I said as the penny dropped. “I didn’t think you liked it, so I didn’t do it.”

“Didn’t like it? That’s the best bit!” he cried.

“Yeah,” added Robbie Tucker. “We only want that bit. The Ronnie Corbett stuff! The jokes are rubbish without that!”

“But I thought….” I began. “Well you thought wrong,” they said. “Come on, do it!”

“I don’t know,” I said a little forlornly.

“Do it! Do it!” they cried over and over. I smiled and we had a group hug while they chanted “Do it! Do it!” over and over until I eventually acquiesced.

Riffing Again

I told a joke, riffed my head off and we laughed ourselves silly all the way down Maddox Road until we split at the corner and went off home for the evening. I never told a joke again without adding in my own comedy embellishments and to this day my wife calls me Ronnie Corbett every time I tell a story and go on the circuitous route to the destination. And do you know what? I think she secretly likes it but she’d never admit it.

Conclusion

And that, my friends explains why my blogs are long and full of flannel. It’s a lifetime of work and effort, so try to view it as an achievement. And don’t forget, Ronnie Corbett made a whole career out of it. (Ironically though, this will probably be the shortest blog I ever do.)

Happy Reading!!!