The Marmite Hypothesis, and it's place in British Comedy

"What is food to one man may be fierce poison to others"

— Lucretius

Sit down and pay attention.

Are you sitting? Good. 

I expect you were sitting down anyway, it's quite awkward to use a computer standing up, they are so usually placed at waist height - I'm getting distracted.

The Marmite Hypothesis is simple. There are some things that you either love, or either hate. There are some things that seem to polarise as soon as they come into contact with people. A recent example would be the film Black Swan, which either created revulsion, irritation, but also reverence and adoration.

(I have no idea, I've not actually seen it myself. I'm in that safe, comfortable place before you try something new, also known as 'No thanks, I'm fine').

Other examples include... Marmite, modern art, opera and Glee. Actually, I'm not sure about Glee, but I was running out of things to list off the top of my idea. I've never seen Glee for personal reasons, it's not important, but let's just say it's between the people of Glee and myself. It's best not to get involved.

Moving on, this topic popped into my head after browsing the internet and finding pages and pages of people ranting against radio comedy that I happen to love. It's not that I was angry I was just confused why it upset them so much. They seemed to take it really personally if for whatever reasons they did not like a show. Very often it would be compared to another show, most likely a much older show, and what would follow would be paragraphs detailing why 'the older show was so much better, and how the writers of new show were totally ripping them off, and were also idiots', and some such vein.

Other people were milder i.e. 'this is the only show that's really made me laugh out loud in ages, others leave me wondering why the audience are laughing so hard'.

Comedy appears to be deeply personal, and I myself can be irritated by shows I don't find funny, but if others do... then that's fine. We have different opinions? Well, that's marvellous. Aren't we lucky that we can find mediums that cater to both? It's a more boring assertion, but I promise you that it'll save you some ranting and high blood pressure in the long run.

Radio comedy, for example, currently on the BBC, is delivering a huge range of comedy to suit different tastes, a lot of which is pretty good, or at least interesting, should you take the chance.

Cabin Pressure, for example, with Mr Benedict Cumberbatch of Sherlock, is a pretty perfect sitcom. Bleak Expectations we go to for the splendidly silly, The News at Bedtime gives us satire and deliriously wonderful wordplay.

Living with Mother is on iplayer at the moment and is beautifully observed, but is a little dark too. Safety Catch is VERY dark and I think jaw-droppingly good, but has complaints from others who find it in bad taste (I think it is just bitingly satirical about the state of modern morality in people... or something).

Even Party - which I find adorable and brilliantly observed (and hopefully will soon have tickets to a recording of!), others I know will find only so-so.

So, my main point is basically what Lucretius said somewhere between 90 and 55B.C., but a lot more snappily. We all have things that grate and our grievances, for whatever reason (I'm looking at you, Glee), but it's rare that we find nothing is to our taste, such is the plurality of voice and comedy. Comedy is wonderful, isn't it? An attempt to redress the balance from all the crappiness that is thrust upon us, and when we find one we connect with, makes us feel less alone, but may just confuse others. That wasn't very elegant.

Hold on, what's that again, Lucretius?

"What is food to one man may be fierce poison to others"

— Lucretius

Ah, that's the stuff.

Miki

xx

Staggering Out From The Black Hole...

So I was going to post a lot earlier, about how I procrastinate about posting, but then I put it off for another day.

The universe, faced with such a closed loop of irony, swallowed me into a black hole, which is where I have been residing for the last few months.

And so that's why I haven't written in a while.

... as excuses go it probably needs some work, but at least it's original.

Anyhoo - when I started this blog, I sort-of promised to myself that I would never use it as a diary, so much as a respository for the slightly/moderately/oh-very-much-so insane musings cluttering up my mind. But unfortunately, I think I'm going to have to break this sort-of rule today.

----------------

I got some bad news earlier this week. It wasn't terrible news. It wasn't tragic.

There's something I've observed about tragedy - with what luckily little contact I've had with it - and that is that sometimes things are SO tragic, so horrific, so awful that your brain can't react. Instead some sort of safety fuse blows, and instead of your brain exploding, as it so logically should, it gets distant, protected by this strange, invisible, yet protective bubble.

Is it a protective mechanism? Or is it what occurs when we reach the boundaries of our brain, where it does not even know how to react?

Does the calculator of our mind - which adds and divides the hand dealt to us - refuse now to answer when '=' is pressed because it does not know the answer, or to stop itself exploding on realising the true nature of everything that is happening to us?

Ugh, my stomach is objecting to so many metaphors attempts.
I agree, Stomach - I will never use the phrase 'the calculator of our mind' again, unless I'm planning to make someone else a bit sick too.

Anyway, I ponder on this because the bad news I had was only that: bad news. Not tragic. Not horrific.
And it has made me so unhappy, and frustrated, and angry...
I wonder if it's because it's not that terrible. - it's simply disappointing.
And my brain - instead of finding the safety fuse - is simply too tired, and yells WHY ME???!!!!??

I am angry. I am really angry.
I think, in many respects, I have had all the trouble and pain I can take, and I think this news is really, really unfair.
I am angry, but not adult, flustery, pretending-to-be-reasonable anger.
I am toddler angry - the kind of anger not tempered by rhyme and reason.
I want to throw a tantrum. I want to throw all my toys out of the pram, and hit God in the eye.
I want someone else to hurt, but since no one else is there to blame, it looks like it's you, God.
Sorry.
Omniscence can't be all fun.

So... what does this all mean, this rambling nonsense?

I don't know.

I just know that something has happened in my life. Not tragic. Not terrible. But for the life of me I can't reason or analyse my way out of it. I don't know how to make it better. I don't know who to talk to, or what to buy myself, or what to tell myself. I suppose time will have to do, which is pretty deflating.

And I suppose, after all of that... that's life.
That's the most profound thing I can come up with.
It's pretty rubbish, so Descartes's in no immediate trouble.

I've got bad news. I'm upset.
It's bad now. But it will get better.
Be thankful it's not worse and be patient for the day when you not only think it, but believe it too.

And I suppose, most importantly, there's no such thing as a 'normal life'. They're all slightly extraordinary.

I don't know if it's true, but it sounds good, which, when you get to it, is a pretty good substitute for the truth.