Back to black
January 5, 2008 – 11:17 am by CathSo there I was this fine Saturday morning, repairing at the kitchen table with my bacon butty. I had no idea that when the be-hooded paperboy shredded The Times in our letterbox that it would lead me to abandon said butty (I know, I know) and head for where you see me now - bashing demonically at my blog page. The reason? Lenny bloody Henry, of all things. Or rather Alan Franks, the interviewer who had the grave misfortune to spend time with the Unfunniest Man in Britain for the purposes of a cover story in the paper’s magazine.
I swear, I’m still picking unchewed rind out of my hair. Here’s why. Roughly halfway through the feature Franks recalls his conversation with Henry about the scene in Extras where Ricky Gervais’ character is asked to name a funny black British character but can’t even though a Lenny Henry poster hangs on the wall behind him. Franks asks Henry how he feels about this and Henry bats the question back at Franks. The next line in the feature reads:
“I answer that I thought he would probably find it offensive; that he might think it nasty, or racist, or a bit of both.”
My butty was safe within the confines of my chops until I read the R word whereupon, in its half-masticated state, it found itself spluttered over the kitchen wall.
Racist? Racist? Can someone explain to me why finding Lenny Henry unfunny could be racist before my arteries start shredding themselves? Is Franks seriously suggesting that to not laugh at Lenny Henry is in some way an act of racism? And if that is the case would he like to start reconsidering what seems to be his boundless embrace of all that calls itself PC?
Dear Jesus, and all the gnomes that dance around him. If being unable to raise a mirthful grunt at anything passing from Henry’s lips constitutes racist I’d better start carrying a burning cross.
Has it crossed Franks’ PC addled brain that if people don’t find Lenny Henry funny it’s because Lenny Henry isn’t - gasp! - funny? I know, it’s shocking, I said it, it’s out there. Personally I haven’t laughed at Lenny Henry since, well, the first time I ever clapped eyes on him. In fact I’ve buried members of my family with greater amusement than anything he’s ever burbled at an audience. The man is the most astoundingly dull comic - and I use the C word in its loosest sense there - that ever stalked onto a stage. And Franks, no, I don’t say that because he is black. I say that because he’s just bloody awful.
So what’s left of my Saturday morning? Well, apart from feling both patronised and offended I’m starving too, thanks to my breakfast being everywhere except where it should. Not only will I be sending Franks my rasher bill but he’s going to have to fix those shredded arteries too.