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I've long had a theory that there is nothing in life so serious that it cannot be made at least slightly funny by filming it, speeding it up, and setting it to the Benny Hill theme. I consider myself something of an authority on this - or at least I reckon I'm the only person you know who has ever been pursued around London by hundreds of women in their underwear at three in the morning, which is the same thing.
But pretty much any subject I can think of - bearded nutters rioting and demanding that people be executed for exercising free speech, hundreds of thousands of Nazis goose-stepping into the Nuremberg rallies, Gordon Brown gurning his way through yet another policy initiative - all you have to do is play it at double speed and add Yakkety Sax to it and hey presto! Instant Comedy!
A friend of mine recently got a job in a hospital. Not in a medical role but in a management one and so you can imagine my surprise when she told me that as part of her induction she had to watch open heart surgery.
"You blimmin' what?" I politely asked her for a clarification.
"Well, not one heart operation, but two. One on an adult and one on a child. And then I've got to watch someone having a catheter fitted..."
"Well, that last bit doesn't sound too bad."
"...through the artery in their leg and up into the heart."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"But why?" I pressed. "Are they expecting you to muck in when they're short staffed? Do you have to learn the ropes? Are there lucrative but potentially messy overtime opportunities for the enthusiastic amateur in the hospital? Why?"
"I don't know, but I was told they'd be 'very disappointed' if I didn't. I think it's something about understanding what the hospital actually does."
"Sounds more like a hazing initiation in the army", I replied, darkly.
One of the results of this is that I learned that during surgery they play classical music. Not, as I immediately assumed, something bombastic like the 1812 or Night on Bare Mountain to the acommpaniment of a cackling surgeon and gouts of gore spattering the walls, and nor does the surgeon ever play an amusing practical joke on the patient by wearing black and marching into theatre to the strains of Toccata and Fugue in D. Instead it's things like the Baroque Adagios CD from Tesco. Studies show that complex, slow-paced classical music helps steady the nerves and improves concentration which when you've got someone with a very sharp knife whipping bits out of your insides is the sort of mood you'd be aiming for, I expect. But, you know, it struck me. The operating theatre. Half a dozen saucy ladies in nurses outfits, and a burst of Yakkety Sax. yes, I know the operation would go badly wrong, but who cares? Instant comedy!
But pretty much any subject I can think of - bearded nutters rioting and demanding that people be executed for exercising free speech, hundreds of thousands of Nazis goose-stepping into the Nuremberg rallies, Gordon Brown gurning his way through yet another policy initiative - all you have to do is play it at double speed and add Yakkety Sax to it and hey presto! Instant Comedy!
A friend of mine recently got a job in a hospital. Not in a medical role but in a management one and so you can imagine my surprise when she told me that as part of her induction she had to watch open heart surgery.
"You blimmin' what?" I politely asked her for a clarification.
"Well, not one heart operation, but two. One on an adult and one on a child. And then I've got to watch someone having a catheter fitted..."
"Well, that last bit doesn't sound too bad."
"...through the artery in their leg and up into the heart."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"But why?" I pressed. "Are they expecting you to muck in when they're short staffed? Do you have to learn the ropes? Are there lucrative but potentially messy overtime opportunities for the enthusiastic amateur in the hospital? Why?"
"I don't know, but I was told they'd be 'very disappointed' if I didn't. I think it's something about understanding what the hospital actually does."
"Sounds more like a hazing initiation in the army", I replied, darkly.
One of the results of this is that I learned that during surgery they play classical music. Not, as I immediately assumed, something bombastic like the 1812 or Night on Bare Mountain to the acommpaniment of a cackling surgeon and gouts of gore spattering the walls, and nor does the surgeon ever play an amusing practical joke on the patient by wearing black and marching into theatre to the strains of Toccata and Fugue in D. Instead it's things like the Baroque Adagios CD from Tesco. Studies show that complex, slow-paced classical music helps steady the nerves and improves concentration which when you've got someone with a very sharp knife whipping bits out of your insides is the sort of mood you'd be aiming for, I expect. But, you know, it struck me. The operating theatre. Half a dozen saucy ladies in nurses outfits, and a burst of Yakkety Sax. yes, I know the operation would go badly wrong, but who cares? Instant comedy!
