As an Anglophile in the U.S. who is often watching UK panel shows, I’ve long been intrigued by the frequency with which comedians reference grocery / restaurant / bar chains. The jokes are usually coded to indicate class standings in a manner that is not translatable in the U.S. I’ve realized that this is a simple strategy on the part of the writers to engage the viewer on a broad level: cast a wide net and hit a cultural touchstone that affects a large audience, and then offer an angle that is both relatable to all while also somehow feeling individual.
Rob Brydon, host of Would I Lie To You, plays a character who shepherds the series but is a little behind the curve, evoking an older generation who are ineffective at control, and is more or less tolerated. “Oh, look, he’s on his Ronnie Corbett again … just wait it out.” David Mitchell parodies a ‘posh’ Oxbridge know-it-all, and Lee Mack plays a working class dope who is actually a far quicker wit than the other two. It’s a triangle that allows for predictable comedic class explorations in each episode.
In one show, Brydon trotted out “throw your hands in the air , and wave them like you don’t care.” This is a pop-culture reference stemming from a 1986 hip hop song, making the citation both fatally dated and culturally anachronistic (Brydon’s host is both unhip and solidly coded ‘white bread’.) This reference works both to disparage Brydon’s standing while also provide legitimacy to viewers who might understand it from the outside, which, considering the show’s audience and the age of the reference, would be nearly everyone. This kind of move is standard in British comedy because identifying with the losing side is a British comedic convention.
Myself, I only understand the ‘wave your hands’ reference through second-hand citations such as this. I had just graduated from high school in 1986 and was heading to college in Vermont and into a media blackout for the next decade that today is difficult to imagine. Additionally, my musical tastes have always leaned art/prog/punk/post punk, and away from rap and hip-hop.
So what does this have to do with this strip? Like Brydon, I am white bread, and I am also milquetoast, and the image of a doughy man conversing with an inanimate object on the street speaks to my masculine heritage.
I’ve been notably sedentary over the past several years, and my aging body is speaking to me about this. As I work day in and day out in a hunched position, alternated to laying back in my chair with my feet up, my back, shoulders, and neck begin to let me know that they miss moving about. When I do get up to stretch, I frequently find myself somewhat locked in the stretched position.
So this is simply a cross between these two experiences. I have a forty year old cultural reference knocking around in my brain asking itself to be recognized and classified, and it gains a new significance: that I am not too old to be able to easily embody the action.
The fireplug, for his part, is embarrassed by the scene. For my part, as the cartoonist, I am still trying to figure out who the fireplug is, and what his role might be in this universe.
The title, “Elevate Your Lexeme,” is a thesaurus-aided rendering of the song title “Word Up.” And so it’s both the reference itself, as well as a curt reminder that I need to step up my game and stop making dumb puns on dusty cultural touchstones. From my children’s point of view, however, I doubt that is even possible.
As an Anglophile in the U.S. who is often watching UK panel shows, I’ve long been intrigued by the frequency with which comedians reference grocery / restaurant / bar chains. The jokes are usually coded to indicate class standings in a manner that is not translatable in the U.S. I’ve realized that this is a simple strategy on the part of the writers to engage the viewer on a broad level: cast a wide net and hit a cultural touchstone that affects a large audience, and then offer an angle that is both relatable to all while also somehow feeling individual.
ReplyDeleteRob Brydon, host of Would I Lie To You, plays a character who shepherds the series but is a little behind the curve, evoking an older generation who are ineffective at control, and is more or less tolerated. “Oh, look, he’s on his Ronnie Corbett again … just wait it out.” David Mitchell parodies a ‘posh’ Oxbridge know-it-all, and Lee Mack plays a working class dope who is actually a far quicker wit than the other two. It’s a triangle that allows for predictable comedic class explorations in each episode.
In one show, Brydon trotted out “throw your hands in the air , and wave them like you don’t care.” This is a pop-culture reference stemming from a 1986 hip hop song, making the citation both fatally dated and culturally anachronistic (Brydon’s host is both unhip and solidly coded ‘white bread’.) This reference works both to disparage Brydon’s standing while also provide legitimacy to viewers who might understand it from the outside, which, considering the show’s audience and the age of the reference, would be nearly everyone. This kind of move is standard in British comedy because identifying with the losing side is a British comedic convention.
Myself, I only understand the ‘wave your hands’ reference through second-hand citations such as this. I had just graduated from high school in 1986 and was heading to college in Vermont and into a media blackout for the next decade that today is difficult to imagine. Additionally, my musical tastes have always leaned art/prog/punk/post punk, and away from rap and hip-hop.
So what does this have to do with this strip? Like Brydon, I am white bread, and I am also milquetoast, and the image of a doughy man conversing with an inanimate object on the street speaks to my masculine heritage.
I’ve been notably sedentary over the past several years, and my aging body is speaking to me about this. As I work day in and day out in a hunched position, alternated to laying back in my chair with my feet up, my back, shoulders, and neck begin to let me know that they miss moving about. When I do get up to stretch, I frequently find myself somewhat locked in the stretched position.
So this is simply a cross between these two experiences. I have a forty year old cultural reference knocking around in my brain asking itself to be recognized and classified, and it gains a new significance: that I am not too old to be able to easily embody the action.
The fireplug, for his part, is embarrassed by the scene. For my part, as the cartoonist, I am still trying to figure out who the fireplug is, and what his role might be in this universe.
The title, “Elevate Your Lexeme,” is a thesaurus-aided rendering of the song title “Word Up.” And so it’s both the reference itself, as well as a curt reminder that I need to step up my game and stop making dumb puns on dusty cultural touchstones. From my children’s point of view, however, I doubt that is even possible.