Monday, 12 April 2010

How to kill a joke through repetition (but carry on going like picking a scab)

Quite possibly my favourite proper joke I’ve written is also one of the cheesiest christmas crackeriest but I love it. Still, that didn’t stop me spending a day or so re-working it over and over again gradually killing it. Anyway:

My mother married a scaffolder; now I’ve got a step-ladder.

And:

My mother married an aerobics instructor; now I’ve got a step-class.

My mother married Hermann Hesse; now I’ve got a step-penwolf.

My mother married a stop on the district line; now I’ve got a step-ney green.

My mother married Marsellus Wallace; now I’ve got a step-aside, Butch.

My mother married a horror writing poultry magnate; now I’ve got a step-hen king.


I feel sickened and ashamed.

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