This funny stuff is a tough business. But luckily I have been rescued by one of our legion who has supplied us with a classic example of Mistaken Identity. This device is the structural backbone of the many comedies of Shakespeare, Moliere & Oliver Goldsmith to name but a few.
In fact it may have been the only humorous vehicle the people could appreciate back then… remember this is well before Freud invented Jewish angst, and centuries before the birth of Mel Brooks, Neil Simon and Woody Allen… or the discovery of the banana peel.
You think it is tough to make people laugh today? It was a lot tougher playing the “Palace” during the Black Death…”test… test… test…hey! Is this mike working? Are you out there? Does anyone here speak English? If I wanted an audience of dead people I would go outside!! You know there are all sorts of dead people lying around out there!! What did you say lady??? That’s rich, the fat lady in the front here, thought they were street mimes!!!”
Now… where was I? Oh yes… Mistaken Identity… well… there is something else about the tale included below. It is known as the Failed Punchline. This should not be confused the “Shaggy Dog” which has a long meandering story line (usually the funniest part) and then a disappointing; but at least coherent conclusion. The following illustration also has a funny storyline but totally collapses at the end. It reminds me of the film Start the Revolution Without Me… a completely hysterical movie, until the final 3 minutes…
Now you may ask… why shouldn’t I bring my considerable talents to bear (or is it bare? Maybe we should leave the potential magnitude of situation to the side)… and re-write the ending. To which I would reply… did anyone finish Beethoven’s Unfinished Symphony? Did anyone see Barry Manilow raise his hand, “Oh … teacher let me try?” I think not. Or did someone attempt to complete Dickens’ Mystery of Edwin Drood? Not even Arthur Miller tried to do it!!!
So the piece stands in its comic purity…
The Smiths were unable to conceive children, and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, “I’m off. The man should be here soon.”
Half an hour later… just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. “Good morning madam. I’ve come to…”
“Oh, no need to explain. I’ve been expecting you,” Mrs. Smith cut in.
“Really?” the photographer asked. “Well, good!! I’ve made a specialty of babies.”
“That’s what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and sit down. Would like coffee before we start?”
“Yes please… 2 sugars.”
When she brought in the coffee, she asked blushing, “Well, where do we start?”
“Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bath, one on the couch and perhaps a couple in bed… Sometimes the living room floor is fun too… you can really spread out!!”
Bath? Living room floor? No wonder it didn’t work for Harry and me.” She said.
“Well, madam, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.”
“My, my, that’s alot of…” gasped Mrs. Smith.
“Madam, in my line of work, a man must take his time. I’d love to be in and out in five minutes; but you’d be disappointed with that, I’m sure.”
“Don’t I know it…” Mrs. Smith muttered.
The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. “This one was done on the top of a bus, and this one was done on the lawn.”
“Oh my God!!” Mrs. Smith exclaimed, tugging at her handkerchief.
“”And these twins turned out exceptionally well, when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with.”
“She was difficult?” asked Mrs. Smith.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep, pushing to get a good look.”
“Four and five deep?” asked Mrs. Smith, eyes widened in amazement.
“Yes,” the photographer said. “And for more than three hours, too! The mother was constantly squealing and yelling… I could hardly concentrate! Then darkness approached and I began to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just packed it all in.”
Mrs. Smith leaned forward. “You mean they actually chewed on your… um… equipment?”
“That’s right madam! Well, if you’re ready, I’ll set up my tripod so that we can get to work.”
“Tripod?”
“Oh yes, I have to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It’s much to big for me to hold for very long… Madam? Madam? Good Lord, she’s fainted!”