And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
´Tis that I may not weep.
Byron
´Tis that I may not weep.
Byron
ONCE AGAIN TO LIVERPOOL THIS WEEKEND to, among other engagements, attend one of the greatest sporting events on the planet, the magnificent Grand National Steeplechase at Aintree, a racecourse that appears to have been designed by someone who was having a laugh. In fact, one of the great advantages of the city of Liverpool is that, as in Ireland, neither it nor its people take anyone seriously nor expect them to be serious. This, naturally, extends to politicians, with Liverpool being able to claim such great political leaders as Derek Hatton, the former Trotskyist Councillor who turned into a male model and radio comedian.
IN FACT ONE HAS MORE CHANCE OF RESPECT in Liverpool if one can tell a good joke, kick a football, write a song, novel, poem or play, or play the banjo or ukulele than being an internationally respected figure on the dour stage of politics – as long as none of these achievements is taken too seriously, as highlighted by the wondrous comic poetry of Henri, McGough and Patten, the novels of Alexei Sayle, the (surely joking) songs of Paul McCartney, the one-liners by John Lennon (“I never really wanted to be a musician; I wanted to be a comedian, like Ringo.”) and the hilarious antics of the manager of Liverpool FC and the haircuts of the Everton FC players.
IN FACT ONE HAS MORE CHANCE OF RESPECT in Liverpool if one can tell a good joke, kick a football, write a song, novel, poem or play, or play the banjo or ukulele than being an internationally respected figure on the dour stage of politics – as long as none of these achievements is taken too seriously, as highlighted by the wondrous comic poetry of Henri, McGough and Patten, the novels of Alexei Sayle, the (surely joking) songs of Paul McCartney, the one-liners by John Lennon (“I never really wanted to be a musician; I wanted to be a comedian, like Ringo.”) and the hilarious antics of the manager of Liverpool FC and the haircuts of the Everton FC players.
LUCKILY FOR THE UNITED KINGDOM, the population of Liverpool is not representative of the country as a whole, which is generally made up of stout, honest folk who take their politics to heart, or, which is equally beneficial to the nation, those who are so dull, thick-headed and/or lost in realms of dubious contact with reality – whether due to drugs, alcohol or television – that they find natural empathy with today’s politicians. If the people of Liverpool were the majority of the country we would end up with the sort of leaders “elected” by many of our good friends around the world: when some of them step up to the microphone we don’t know whether we are going to hear a joke or just look at one.
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