WHATEVER

OK now, guys -
You don’t mind me, like, referring
To you all as ‘guys’, do you, guys -
Even though some of us are female
And none of us are sort of like American?
And when I ask if you’re alright and things like that
And you say you’re good and it’s so not a problem,
I’ll know that you’re basically just fine
And not actually declaring your, like, moral status
Or anything like that, know what I mean?
And yes, guys, I’ll know what you mean too.
And I’m like, cool with this now – we’re all cool, yeah?
This is so absolutely not a problem, is it, guys?

Right then, guys, hey, it’s all good, no worries,
Because, you know, at the end of the day,
We’re all sort of like - in this together?
And we’re on a journey and stuff like that?
Even though we’re going kind of like – nowhere?

Right, OK, listen, you have a nice day now, guys,
Because, hey, at the end of the day, it’s like
We so totally have nothing better to say.
Do you know what I mean?
Do I know what I mean?
OhMyGod!
End of.


(2010)

Lise and I both loathe conversational tics and threadbare clichés. These days, it seems like the spiralling babble above actually passes for cool chat. It reminds me of ‘duckspeak’ - the distilled form of ‘Newspeak’ in Orwell’s great satirical novel, ‘I984’. (You can, perhaps, hear the modern form of this corrosive prattle in TV’s ‘Big Brother’…).

Of course, we’re all susceptible to this kind of thing - no matter how hard we try to avoid it. Myself, I can’t seem to shake off ‘like, y’know’ at the end of too many sentences when I’m in the middle of a good natter. It might have come from my Mother because I think my brother and sisters all fall prey to it as well. Oh well, not to worry, or should that be - no worries?

The picture is a nod in the direction of that famous painting 'The Scream' by Edvard Munch. Lisa took it on the bridge at Abbey Park yesterday.