<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d7615377689624956874', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Icky clown alert! Icky clown alert! You have been warned.

Things that I do when I've other things to do: (a continuing series)

6. This irritating comedy quiz. I've got my Mum involved now. We've both got better things to do. I'm currently sitting on 86 right, with 5 'close'. I think it's a spelling problem - and not my spelling, but that of the gimmer who designed this quiz. Even so. I'm going to spend the rest of the night on this.

I had quite a late-into-the-night style conversation last night, and one of the many topics that ran around our tired brains, waving and wobbling, and then flew off when we were distracted by the fact that one of us was on television or when we both immediately forgot what we were talking about and started talking about something else mid sentence (for this is the way conversations with me shape up when it's past midnight and my tired subconscious starts the dream process without informing my conscious brain to switch off)... this sentence is too long. One of the things that we talked about was nicknames, and specifically the things that we call each other on our blogs.

Between a little group of us, we've come up with so many stupid, varied ways of referring to each other. For example, Mrs D is named at any given moment after the person she last expressed a romantic interest in, and this changes according to the last embarrassing admission she makes to me while under the influence of alcohol. She refers to me as Vicky, because I was once unwise enough to tell her that two different people had told me I looked like the new Vicky Fowler in EastEnders. For the record, I don't. On other sites, she's referred to by reference to the career she has chosen, and is mocked remorselessly for it. Still she never learns.

Last night, the other end of the phone call referred to himself as "comfy". Mind you, this is a person who refers to me as "perky", so I think both his powers of perception and description are due for a check up.

I've never had many nicknames in my life. I think my christian name is appalling, and really not one I would have chosen for myself or anyone I know or liked or cared about or even just met and had to christen on the spot for no good reason. I'd hate for someone to name someone else after me, not because I wouldn't be incredibly touched and grateful for the gesture, but just because I wouldn't wish such a rubbish name with such rubbish connotations on anyone. There hasn't been a single Sharon, either real or fictional, that has added anything of worth to the world. Even changing the images at the top of the page has been a challenge, because when searching for images relating to "Sharon", you get a long parade of ugly, middle aged American women, or young flushed-looking American women holding babies.

So it's difficult to get anything cool from my name. In primary school James and Lisa, two kids that lived around the corner from me, used to call me "Shaddan", said with your tongue firmly planted in front of your bottom teeth, while flapping your hands in front of your face. This was apparently hilarious. My Uncle Paddy calls me "Sharry Barry", and he is the only person in the world that would ever get away with it. In college I was called "Bob" only because there were three Sharons in my year, and we all answered when anyone called. They chose the name Bob, I think, after the character in Blackadder. So that's okay. One of my sister's friends calls me "Shazza-bing", I've never been sure why, and that's quite cool. Although I wouldn't encourage excessive use, or list it on my passport. Finally, Susan christened me Shazzle about 4 years ago, because we decided we should probably have pet names for each other, and I've stuck with that. I'm only ever referred to as Shazzle in print though.

I never use my real name posting on other blogs, or on message boards. I rarely even sign as "Shazzle". More often than not I use one of two names, chosen from very obscure sources. One is an old character name of Richard Herring's, never even used on anything that was actually broadcast. The other is a character referred to only once by name in an old The Pod sketch by the genius Julian Barratt. They are both genderless names, but people still tend to assume that I'm a bloke when I post under either of those names. And, weirdly, take me more seriously than if I sign "Shazzle".

So, to try and get the comments section used a teeny bit, please share the stories of your nicknames. Or suggest some nicknames for me. Or just, I don't know, post abuse.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment