#not an excuse but ive lost so many mutuals over the course of this years from different things and ive been TRYING to get over loosing thi
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frozenhi-chews · 29 days ago
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skittles1229 · 4 years ago
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Old Expectations Die Hard (Dashie x Reader Fanfic)
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Chapter One: Weird Circumstances
You know your life is complicated when the friend you always complain to says "you never have a dull moment do you?" I sigh as the weight of the world seems to make it impossible to breath. You see recently things have been rough. I lost my job and my fiance all in the same day, that itself was an unbelievable story. I was so upset and strung out on thoughts of what to do that once i got home early from work i didn't notice the extra car in the driveway. i stepped into my home and my own floors felt as if they'd given way when i saw the guy i thought i'd be spending my life with in bed, with my sister... my sister and i hadn't been on good terms for a while and for a good reason! The drugs she took either made her unreliable and selfish or crazy and murderous. He, of course, pulled the its not what you think, id never hurt you, it was a mistake, and honestly i could write a book out of the excuses i heard in the time of two minutes but maybe another time. Needless to say i left. I never thought about going back and to be honest my sister looked more hurt then i was. I took a job in California a few weeks ago and moved in with my friend (BFF Name). They always seemed to know what to say and honestly i truly believe They  knew me better then i know myself. 
California gave me the biggest culture shock I've ever had. I came from Mississippi, the bible belt and the most rural part of the world. California was sooooo different then what i was use to. The weather is awesome. There's lots of jobs for technical people, at least until you're 45 and then you're considered ancient and you can't possibly know anything when some 23-year old out of Stanford tells you that they know it all. (a little bit of sarcasm there) It's a great place to start a new company, money is available as is talent. The risk of starting a company is lower since you can always find a new job The politics are insane, if you aren't towing the progressive party line you should just STFU. If you even once say that Trump has done something positive, or that Obama did something negative prepare for the wrath. Read the stuff behind the recently filed lawsuit against google for a taste of what it's like. Seriously, don't say a word. The state if structurally bankrupt, although the finances look good because so much stuff is off of the balance sheet. The public pension liability dwarfs the "good" part of the budget, and some day it is coming home to roost. Watch out when it does. The cost of living is absurd, really absurd. I'm not talking just a place to live but gas, electricity, haircuts, milk, pizza, you name it. The traffic is absurd too. (can you tell i like the word absurd) The public transit, although usually on time, is a mess. People are pigs, they throw trash everywhere, the cars are overcrowded almost all the time. 
I've got to say, from how much it sounds like i hate California, i actually don't.  Mainly because its so far away from my original family, leaving really helped me start to grow up and feel like maybe i was getting a hold of my life again. Only problem has been getting to my new job on time. I work as a barista and a waitress at a brunch place a good minute away from the apartment. The money is good, otherwise i wouldn't waste my time with the commute everyday. i keep being late to work because i still haven't adjusted to how terrible traffic is and so my boss was "nice" enough to switch me to the later shifts. The hours are long and boring because my shift starts in the middle of rush hour to the slowest hours at the end of the day meaning you have to find things to keep yourself busy with. the only good thing is, we can wear pretty much anything we want as long as its black. all i wear is dark colors so i didn't have to spend any extra money on a uniform and i didn't have to wear the same thing everyday. Today i decided i wear a v-neck shirt that with an emperor waist (body forming) with black skinny jeans and my regular converse. i decided against driving to work and decided it would be far smarter to catch a bus to the nearest destination. My (hair color) hair was done is a fishtail messy braid, i always liked this style because it made me look like i had a head full of hair when in reality i thought i was going bald. 
My personality was a little odd, you see some days i felt like the beautiful nerd who has no confidence and wants to hide away in a hole. other days i feel like a model from Victoria secrets, of course those are the days i get the most tips. today was honestly a mutual day, where id rather be at home in my bed asleep, or listening to music. The bus finally stopped a block away from my job and i sighed obviously not wanting to go into work. surprisingly there wasn't nearly  as many cars as there usually is around this time but i wasn't complaining. i walk in to see that most of the downstairs was empty but whoever was upstairs definitely had a loud mouth. i walk to the back in order to clock in and i bump into melany ( the girl im shifting with). "wow you actually got here on time! Maybe the boss's mood will cheer up." i huffed a little. "yea, i dont know why i thought id need a car in California, say whats with the low level of customers? its NEVER this slow." she looked at me in disdain, "some guys reserved the entire upstairs and we had to make this huge table out of all our tables up there, glad im not gonna be the one fixing it later." i rolled my eyes, i hated when a huge family came in and they just had to move everything around because little johnny wants the sit next to suzzie and suzzie HAS to sit by her parents bc she likes to throw her food on the floor, all fake names but a real situation ive been in before. "well have they at least been fed so that i only have to clean up after them?" she shook her head while hanging up her apron. "nope, they've only ordered their drinks and they are getting those onto trays now." so today was gonna be like every other day. "guess i better go help them take those upstairs then, have a good rest of your day." i walk away and slip on my apron, grabbed one of the trays of drinks while another waiter grabbed the rest of the drinks. Once i got upstairs, that's when i met him...
Chapter Two: Last Will and Testament
          He was sitting on the far end of the long table of people laughing and joking. everyone seemed to be loud and all had their own inside jokes. This guy, he stuck out. i changed my attention to the task at hand, finishing this shift. i hated when people moved all the tables and seating around. all the waiters and waitresses have to go back behind them and look at the layout of the floor to put them all back exactly as they were before. it was a struggle and because of this nobody actually wanted that job so usually the manager gives it to her least favorite workers and i happened to be one. "who all had coke?" nobody answered me so one of the men bellowed out the same line and somehow was able to get a show of hands. i walked around handing  out drinks, catching the lingering smell of strong liquor. i could tell by the end of tonight they would all be wasted and loud. please, just don't make more of a mess then you have to, i thought to myself. i had one drink left on my tray, "sweet tea?" the guy i saw before at the end of the table waved his hand and i dreaded going over there, i always seem to make a fool of myself when it matters. 
     i make my way slowly down the table with the tray under my arm and the tea in my hand. i lean over to sit his drink on the table.."here's your t-" *CRASH* while joking with one of his friends his elbow crashes into my hand sending the tea flying all over me and the cup crashing to the floor, thank god i wore black. he turned around and looked more horrified then i did. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry!" his voice was deeper then i imagined it'd be. "no, it my fault i'm sorry ill get you a new one." i turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked away really just trying to get away from the situation. i could tell from the silence behind me that all eyes were on me. i ran to the back where the lockers were for the service. i went to the bathroom and stripped the sticky clothes off throwing them aside. i sat on the toilet  trying to catch my breath, my social anxiety had struck me  hard. a feeling of worthlessness and dread fell over me like a blanket. after the past few months i've had just one day without something terrible happening would mean the world to me. i heard a knock on the door, it was melany, she walked in with a towel from the kitchen. "hey, i heard what happen upstairs are you ok?" i covered my breast trying keep myself as unexposed as possible. "oh yea im fine, im just cold, and sticky, and... covered in tea." melany and i made eye contact and both laughed just to lift the dread in the air. "let me guess, all the guys are getting a kick out of watching me fumble again huh?" i said a little less concerned and more annoyed. she rolled her eyes "they are boys, they get a kick out of picking their own nose. we both slid to the floor beside each other, she hands me the damp towel. i get most of the sticky off as possible, throwing my hair up to make it look less clumped together by the sugar. "i have an extra black t shirt in my locker but i don't know how it will fit you. your breast are at least a size larger then mine." i shrugged my shoulders, "who cares ill make do. thanks for your help melany." she smiled her weird anime girl smile and ran to get the shirt from her locker.
     ill have to admit, she was right about the size thing. it was far to small around the chest area but the rest fit fine. after the incident my boss stuck me down stairs wiping tables and sweeping the floor, i dont mind though because i get to experience the day coming to an end with a beautiful sunset over California. i secretly kept the the window to watch as the sun fell from the sky. the sky seemed to burn and darken while the clouds began to glow with the last bit of sunlight left. the sky filled up with burning Burgundy and faded orange and yellows, the tallest buildings seemed to reach for the skyline as if it were a sunflower moving to the last drip of sunlight. moving here had been hard, and this had become one of the things i looked forwards to. living in the apartment with my friend was nice, buts its not the same as coming home to someone you use to lay with every night. sleeping alone seemed so much colder and emptier then i remembered from childhood. my mother would be so disappointed in the way i turned out, in the places id gone and the decision to spend my life with someone who was most obviously the wrong one. she would have told me to slow down and to take my time, that growing up wasn't everything. she would have said love isn't something you just wake up and have, its something you make. i wasn't anywhere close to where i thought id be by now, and i could see that. it tears at my heart everyday, not being able to see her or any of my family. sometimes it felt as if they'd all died in the fire that night. 
     i suddenly heard a boom of voices making their way down the stairs, i hadn't realized how close to closing time it had become. all of them walk out stumbling and laughing at their own jokes, seems they all got a good bit of drinking in, all except one. The guy i ran into on accident seemed as sober as ever, designated driver i think, he was much taller now. he seemed muscular but in such a fitting way for his body. his teeth sparkle because their so white, his smile complimented him best. his high cheekbones made his chocolate brown eyes his best feature. His skin was glowing with a sweet honey hue and before i could notice that i was staring he turned his head. his eyes met mind before i could think twice and that's when i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. weather it be from embarrassment or silly school girl shyness i didn't know . i turned my face away but it was too late, i turned my face a little just to catch a glimpse of him before he made his way out of the door and that's when i noticed his cheeks had gone from a burnt caramel to a rosy color. i felt my body shiver at the thought that maybe, just maybe he found me as attractive as i found him. i shook the thought from head realizing they had began locking the place down. as i helped close up shop and wash dishes i couldn't help but to let my mine wander to all different kinds of thoughts, funny thing was they always fell back to him and his rosy  cheeks. i couldn't help but smile as i felt my heart race at the thought of him, even though id made a fool of myself today i was glad i hadn't ruined my chances. Even if he'd never get with me or i wouldn't ever see him again, i'd still take it as a compliment that he even looked my way. 
     before long we were all outside laughing and talking about today. The manager locked the doors and said his goodbyes. i turn to walk towards the bus station when i see a man standing aside awkwardly between the restaurant and the parking lot. suddenly my eyes adjusted and once they did, the joyousness butterflies came back and the blush suddenly reappeared on my cheeks..
There are lots more chapter after this if you are interested you can find them here
https://my.w.tt/sosFRmianbb
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ibmiller · 7 years ago
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Introduction
I began researching this topic out of ignorance. After being more or less snookered by Dr. Warren into giving a presentation, I chose one of the first topics that came to mind. I hope you will bear with me as I exhume a body of knowledge that has already had several postmortems: that of Dr. Watson's wife, or wives, depending on your inclination. I attempted to gather every scholarly article on the subject I could find, so that I wouldn't have to do all the research myself. The Interlibrary Loan Department in Swem Library hates me now, thanks to Dr. Warren.
We all know Watson's predilection for members of the opposite sex. He remarks on their beauty and dress an uncountable number of times throughout the canon. We know from him that his experience with women extends over "many nations and three separate continents." We know from Holmes that the fair sex is "Watson's department." I will review the various theories on how many wives Dr. Watson had, and bring you to what I believe is the most logical conclusion. It should be an interesting area for exploration. It is also an area, in my opinion, that has barely been tapped.
In 1944, Dorothy Sayers said:
There is a conspiracy afoot to provide Watson with as many wives as Henry VIII, but, however this may be, only one is ever mentioned by him and only one left any abiding memory in his heart.
Less devout scholars than Ms. Sayers wanted Watson to have multiple wives so much that they invented them for him. William S. Baring-Gould points out that Watson marries the American Constance Adams in Doyle's unpublished play "Angels of Darkness." In 1978, Hartley Nathan purportedly found Watson's will and testament in Toronto, Canada, proving that the good doctor had twin sons (Clarence and George) by his first wife Constance, a daughter (Gertrude) by his second wife Mary, and another daughter (Elsie) by his third wife, whose name we do not know.
Two-Wife Theories
In any case, it is certain that Watson had at least one wife. Mary Morstan is explicitly mentioned in several places throughout the canon, starting with "The Sign of the Four." In 1888, Mary Morstan walked into Dr. Watson's life and swept him off his feet. Watson writes:
She was a blonde young lady, small, dainty, well gloved, and dressed in the most perfect taste. There was, however, a plainness and simplicity about her costume which bore with it a suggestion of limited means. . . .Her face had neither regularity of feature nor beauty of complexion, but her expression was sweet and amiable, and her large blue eyes were singularly spiritual and sympathetic. In an experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents, I have never looked upon a face which gave a clearer promise of a refined and sensitive nature. (SIGN, pp. 11- 12).
Later in the narrative, Watson says of Mary:
My mind ran upon our late visitor -- her smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice, the strange mystery which overhung her life. If she were seventeen at the time of her father's disappearance she must be seven-and-twenty now -- a sweet age, when youth has lost its self-consciousness and become a little sobered by experience. So I sat and mused until such dangerous thoughts came into my head that I hurried away to my desk and plunged furiously into the latest treatise upon pathology (SIGN, p. 16).
The prospect that the Agra treasure might spoil his chances with Miss Morstan certainly weighed heavily on Dr. Watson's mind. So distracted was Watson that when Thaddeus Sholto bombarded him with trains of symptoms, the Doctor found himself prescribing strychnine in large doses as a sedative. It seems evident that Watson was in love.
At any rate, Watson married Miss Morstan soon after the conclusion to "The Sign of the Four." Watson was 35 and Mary 27 at the time their troth was plighted. The popular view is that Mary died in 1893 or 1894. Holmes rose from the dead in 1894 and took Watson's mind off his "sad bereavement" for awhile with some new adventures. This didn't last forever, as, according to S. C. Roberts, Watson remarried soon after the turn of the century. Holmes himself, in "The Blanched Soldier," remarks in January 1903 that Watson had "deserted him for a wife," so it seems evident that Watson remarried at least once. The identity of this second wife has been conjectured by Chris Morley and George Haynes to be Lady Frances Carfax, and by S. C. Roberts to be Violet de Merville (ILLU).
The fact that Watson married Miss Morstan is well-known and goes almost undisputed. Of course, nothing is so abhorrent to many Sherlockians than a plainly stated, obvious fact. Eminent Sherlockian scholar and author Rex Stout wrote an article entitled "Watson Was a Woman," which, if true, would of course preclude any wives.
On the other hand, there are those who contend that Watson had not two wives, but one. In an interesting twist to the Rex Stout theory, Dr. Robert Katz, in his toast to the Second Mrs. Watson at the 1996 BSI Dinner, held that there was only one Mrs. Watson. Katz's logic was that because Holmes was such an intolerable lodger because of his bad habits and his propensity for getting his roommates into danger, they left him after a short while. This posed a problem for the Literary Agent, who had great success with Holmes and Watson. The conflict was resolved by having several Dr. Watsons in succession, each of whom was married only once.
On the other hand, there are those who claim that our mutual friend had three or more wives. We'll ignore Rex Stout for the moment and concentrate instead on the one-wife and multi-wife theories.
One-Wife Theories
The fourteenth century English scholastic philosopher, William of Ockham, held that assumptions used to explain something must not be unnecessarily multiplied. This "shaving away of multiple assumptions" is known familiarly as "Ockham's Razor." A more simple way of stating the principle is that, all things being equal, the simplest explanation is usually the best. This is known in science as the Law of Parsimony. There are only a few published proponents of the one-wife theory, but they claim to have Ockham's razor on their side.
Jane Nightwork, in 1946, made the surprising claim that "Watson's second wife was actually his first wife; and there never was a third." Nightwork speculates that Watson and Mary had a "falling out" in 1894 due to Mary's success in her own dress-making business. Since divorce at this time was all but impossible, it is likely that Holmes was referring to Watson's separation rather than Mary's death when he said, "Work is the best antidote to sorrow, my dear Watson" in "The Empty House." According to Nightwork, when Holmes says, "The good Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife," he is referring to the happy reunion of John and Mary in 1902, when the couple decided to have another go at marriage. There is no need to assume that Mary died. This view was later supported by Christopher Morley.
H. W. Starr claimed that the "sad bereavement" doesn't refer to death, but is Watson's excuse to the reading public for moving back in with Holmes after violent marital disputes. Starr blames the switching of residences between Queen Anne St. and Baker St. on Watson's proclivity to go adventuring with Holmes, a habit which caused much marital strife for Watson. The couple finally reconciled in 1902 and left Holmes by himself.
Dan Warren claims that Mary is instead the victim of tuberculosis. Because she must spend so much time in a German health spa, Watson occasionally lives with Holmes. According to Warren, the "sad bereavement" mentioned by Holmes refers to the Watsons' miscarried child, an event which occurred more frequently among women with TB. How much of this has canonical support, I don't know, but it's a good theory, nonetheless. It might be what Doyle had intended all along, as his first wife Louise died after a thirteen-year battle with TB, and took many visits to Switzerland for her health.
Another bit of evidence for a single marriage lies in "The Dying Detective," which occurred, according to Watson, "in the second year of my married life." "The Dying Detective" wasn't published until 1913, eleven years after the presumed second marriage took place. It is evident that Watson had only been married once by 1913 or he would have said "the second year of his first marriage." As he was in his early sixties by in 1913, it is unlikely that he married again.
Three-Wife theories
There is some support for the claim that Watson had three wives. In "The Veiled Lodger," 1896, Watson says he has taken up separate lodgings. Harold Bell assumed that this referred to another marriage. I don't know if I believe him, but Trevor Hall points out that perhaps Watson was going through a mid-life crisis at this time. He was, after all, in his mid-forties. I think far greater evidence for a marriage lies in "The Five Orange Pips," which precedes "The Sign of the Four," and hence Mary Morstan, by a year.
In "The Five Orange Pips," Watson mentions that "My wife was on a visit to her mother's, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street." However, in "The Sign of the Four," Mary states quite clearly that her mother was dead and that she had no relatives in England. The statement in "The Five Orange Pips" was later changed in light of this fact to refer to Mary's aunt rather than her mother, but keep in mind that this was a change made after the fact by editors, not by Watson. This instance gives rise to the theory that Watson had a wife in 1887, before he wedded Mary in 1888. A counter-argument is that "The Sign of the Four" is mentioned in "The Five Orange Pips" and therefore must have already occurred. I refuse to admit the late Gavin Brend's assertion that Watson had messy hand-writing or simply had his dates wrong. This happened only three times that I can tell -- once in "Wisteria Lodge," once in "The Red-Headed League," and once elsewhere in "The Sign of the Four." I think it more likely that Watson included the title for publicity reasons.
Four-Wife Theories
In the extreme case, Watson hypothetically could have had at least 4 marriages:
1887 - A short marriage to someone unknown. (FIVE) 1888 - Watson weds Mary Morstan (SIGN) 1896 - Watson takes up separate quarters (VEIL) 1902 - Watson deserts Holmes for a wife (BLAN)
Five-Wife Theories
If we're to trust Baring-Gould about "Angels of Darkness," Watson had a fifth wife in the mid-1880's named Constance Adams. Trevor Hall supports the five- wife theory, citing Watson's wives as Constance Adams, Miss X, Mary Morstan, Miss Y, and Miss Z.
Six-Wife Theories
In his review of the unpublished play "Angels of Darkness," Harlan Umansky claims that the play ends with Watson being engaged to Lucy Ferrier at the deathbed request of John Ferrier. Is Lucy Ferrier Miss X? Or should we add her to the list, making six short-lived wives for Dr. Watson? That is open to speculation, since, according to the rumor mill, the plot of "Angels of Darkness" directly contradicts that of "A Study in Scarlet"--it has Watson working in San Francisco and doesn't involve Holmes at all. It would be nice if the six-wife theory were correct--it would fulfill Ms. Sayers' prophesy of Watson having as many wives as Henry VIII.
Seven-Wife Theories
A case could be made that Watson had seven wives if you juggle the dates around in "The Sign of the Four," "The Five Orange Pips," and "A Scandal in Bohemia." We'll call this mysterious lady Miss Q. The evidence for her existence is flimsy at best, however, so I won't go into it.
Conclusions
Now, given the fact that Watson probably couldn't have divorced any of his wives by the laws in England at the time, this means, unless Watson was a bigamist as some have suggested, that all but the last of his wives must have died, and none of them under circumstances Watson sees fit to describe to the reader. In fact, Miss Q, Miss X, and Miss Y must have died after no more than a year of marriage--Miss Q and Miss X because Watson remarried the next year, and Miss Y because Watson was living back in his old quarters in Baker Street by 1897 (ABBE).
There are two theories we can dismiss out of hand. The first is that Dr. Watson was a deadbeat addicted to gambling.
Look at the facts. Watson is always skipping out on his practice to run off with Holmes. Watson spent a summer at "Shoscombe Old Place" of horseracing fame. He frequently spends half his pension check at the races. Holmes kept Watson's checkbook locked in his desk drawer. Is it any surprise to learn that Watson would be in dire financial straits? Could he have, for instance, had a system of marrying rich women who were at death's door, taken out huge life insurance policies on them, and then merely wait for them to pass on in order to collect and support his gambling habit? Given what other information we have about Dr. Watson's personality, my answer must be "Not bloody likely."
The second dubious explanation is that Watson was a serial killer.
How hard would it be for a doctor to procure poisons or administer deadly infections? Watson does admit to having "another set of vices" in "A Study in Scarlet"--could he be referring to a murderous streak a mile wide? This would make Watson one of the most diabolical, cunning, and daring killers of all time, to stay so brazenly close to the world's greatest detective and yet defy discovery at every turn. One would surmise that Holmes would get suspicious by the fourth or fifth time he was asked to present a ring as the best man.
Or could it be simply that because Watson, as a doctor, came into more frequent contact with women of frail health, he was hence more likely to marry such women? I tend to support this position. Cases could, and have, been made that Watson had as many as seven wives, but I tend to think he had only two: Mary Morstan and the Miss Z of 1903. It is now time to use Ockham's razor to cut through the extraneous theories. There are two strong canonical references to Dr. Watson's wives--Mary Morstan and Miss Z of 1903. The inference that these are one and the same woman is a stretch, and I believe that those who have claimed to have Ockham's razor on their side by saying that Watson had only one wife are misinterpreting the nature of parsimony. 'One' is not necessarily a simpler number than 'Two' when 'Two' makes more sense. In order to play The Game, we must accept what Watson says at face value unless he is clearly, undeniably wrong.
References
Baesch, J. Personal Communication. 20 August, 1997.
Baring-Gould, W. S. (1962). Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street.
Brend, G. (1951). My Dear Holmes.
Bunson, M. E. (1994). Encyclopedia Sherlockiana.
Doyle, A. C. (1993). The Sign of the Four. New York: Oxford University Press.
Fink, J. (1992). The marital hoax of John H. Watson. The Baker Street Journal, 42(2), 102-105.
Fitz, R. (1944). A Belated Eulogy: To John H. Watson, M.D., in Profile by Gaslight, Edgar W. Smith (Ed.), Simon and Schuster: New York.
Hall, T. (1971). The Late Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Katz, R. (1996). To the Second Mrs. Watson. The Baker Street Journal, 46(1), 9-10.
Moriarity, D. Personal Communication. August, 1997.
Morley, C. (1934). Doctor Watson's Secret, in Rothman, S. (Ed.): The Standard Doyle Company, 1990.
Nathan, H. (1978). John H. Watson, M.D. Discovered at Last. The Baker Street Journal, 28(4), 204-213.
Nguyen, H. Personal Communication. 22 August, 1997.
Nightwork, J. (1946). Watson à la Mode. The Baker Street Journal, 1(1), 15- 20.
Redmond, C. (1984). In Bed With Sherlock Holmes.
Roberts, S. C. (1953). Holmes & Watson, New York: Otto Penzler's Sherlock Holmes Library.
Starr, H. W. (1946). Some New Light on Watson. The Baker Street Journal, 1(1), 55-63.
Stout, R. (1944). Watson Was a Woman, in Profile by Gaslight, Edgar W. Smith (Ed.), Simon and Schuster: New York.
Warren, D. C. (1991). Mary, the One and Only. The Baker Street Journal, 41(1), 21-24.
Wigglesworth, B. (1947). Many Nations and Three Separate Continents.The Baker Street Journal, 2(3), 273-278.
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americanpsycho1991 · 7 years ago
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hi, this might be way too personal a question and if it is I'm really sorry, but my psychiatrist recently brought up ECT as a possible treatment option for me and I was just wondering what it was like for you, and did it help at all. it feels like such an intense thing to go through but he says it can really help (but i know things work differently for each person). thank you so much, I'm sending you lots of love
Long answer, it’s under the cut
Hi. No need to apologize.  Let me give you one of my classic, incredibly long answers where I say the same thing a hundred different ways and do minimal editing before I post it.
ECT is a lot to think about, and I don’t feel that I was given the proper amount of information to make a well-rounded decision at the time.  In addition to this, if you search online, you’ll find a lot of people writing about their personal experiences.  These can be intimidating, as the accounts that appear online are often the very negative ones, where people feel they were pressured into the treatment and/or sustained significant memory impairment afterwards.  You’ll find people comparing ECT to lobotomies, and saying it shouldn’t be allowed except in the most extreme of cases.  I truly don’t believe that those accounts accurately represent the procedure, but I do recommend you read a few, so that you’re aware of the kind of worst-case scenarios that hospitals won’t tell you about.  I can give you an overview of my experience, and list what I believe are the main things that are important to consider before you make any decisions.  My biggest recommendations are that you a) gather as much information as you possibly can, and b) try TMS first.  I’ll talk a little more about TMS later on.
I got a course of ECT starting at the tail end of an inpatient stay at McLean hospital, through a 2-week residential DBT program on the same campus, and after I went home as well.  I don’t recall exactly how many treatments I was intended to get; I got quite a ways in, but didn’t end up finishing the entire course.I was 19 at the time.  Some of the patients in my inpatient ward felt that the hospital was a little too enthusiastic about performing ECT - while their treatment providers weren’t pushy per se, they suggested it to a lot of patients, and didn’t seem to share the typical view of ECT as a last or extreme resort that many treatment providers have.
McLean - while certainly not perfect - is considered one of the best psychiatric hospitals in the country, and is very much oriented towards research and trying out new and modern techniques.  As such, they’re more than happy to sign up patients for ECT and TMS (which is a less extreme option that I’ll bring up later).  My memory is foggy, but I definitely remember taking several surveys and approving them to be used for research purposes.
I specifically asked for ECT, because I was feeling desperate after two previous hospitalizations and a long list of failed medications.  They gave me a basic overview of ECT and TMS, and signed me up immediately once I confirmed that I did want ECT.
The hospital absolutely did not give me enough information.  I don’t think they fully conveyed the risks, and I think they are far too eager to sign up anyone with any interest in ECT as long as they’re old enough to medically consent.  I was 19 for christs sake, and no one asked me twice.  Honestly, even if they had properly prepared me, I probably still would have chosen to go forward with it, but that’s not an excuse.  And when I say I feel like I wasn’t properly informed, that’s after I took it upon myself to ask extensive questions beyond what was on the pamphlet they handed me.  I still didn’t get full answers.  If you’ve ever been put on a medication by a doctor who didn’t even list the most common side effects, you know how that feels.  Except instead of getting a headache and not being able to orgasm, you can get permanent brain damage.  So.
I don’t fully agree with many of the people online who say that patients are pressured into being lab rats, but I do think that the hospital’s mission to make progress in the psychiatric field is sometimes placed above their duty to provide a responsible level of care to their patients.  So basically the lab rat thing, but a little more forgiving.  And again, my experience is just from one hospital.  There are far worse places to be than McLean, and I’d imagine many of them offer ECT as well.
the procedure: one of the main issues with ECT is memory loss, so my memory of the actual procedure is a little fuzzy, but here’s what I do remember: you’re either wheelchaired to the ECT waiting room, or you walk there, depending on whether you’re inpatient or not. The first time I went there, and I think once or twice afterwards, they had me sit at a little computer station and fill out a basic survey on my symptoms (rate how true each statement is from 1-4, “I feel hopeless about the future,” etc.). Once it’s your turn, they take you to a small room where you lie down on a stretcher.  They might take your vitals, and they have you take off your jacket or roll up your sleeves so they can put little electrode stickers on you. I don’t think they have you change into a gown unless you’re wearing clothes they can’t get out of the way, like skinny jeans or something. They roll you into another room, and they put an IV in your arm and put you out with anesthesia.
You wake up shortly afterwards, in a long room with full of other people waking up in their stretchers, with medical gel in your hair. That’s one of my most vivid memories; always needing to shower afterwards to get the gel out of your hair.  Someone comes over and gives you some water or juice, or crackers, makes sure you’re feeling okay, and after a little while they clear you to go back to the waiting room.  If you’re inpatient, you’ll be wheeled back up to your ward, and if you’re outpatient, they have you sit in the waiting room for a little while longer before they let you walk back out. I always felt fine - well rested, even - after waking up, but some people get more nausea and whatnot. It’s unusual to have severe symptoms. I couldn’t give you a time estimate, but it’s a surprisingly short procedure, and most of your time is spent in the waiting room or the recovery area.
Afterwards, you’ll be very tired and sometimes spacey for the rest of the day. Once I was outpatient, and getting driven to and from my appointments, I would often fall asleep in the car on the way back.  Sometimes I wouldn’t remember things that had happened that same morning.
At first, it seemed to work. On my non-ECT days in inpatient, I found I had more energy, and felt less depressed.  After a few weeks, though, it petered out and I stopped feeling positive effects from it.  I forget who was monitoring my process, but it was mutually decided that there was no point in finishing the full course.
That was about a year and a half ago. Since then, I’ve noticed that I’m more forgetful than before. I’m trying to work out my brain these days (which I probably should have done right away) to try to restore my memory, and many people who do experience short term memory damage say it fades after a few months to a year.  Even if it sticks around (like mine seems to have done), it’s seldom a level of damage that significantly impairs quality of life.  Like I said, though, there are plenty of horror stories online from people who suffered significant, permanent brain damage and have definitely been impaired by memory issues.  Just because it’s uncommon doesn’t mean it can’t happen.  I assumed that because I was young and in relatively good health, I wouldn’t have as many issues as I ended up having.
In addition to the short term memory impairment, I lost the majority of two years of memories.  If you asked me to tell you about the college courses I took during that time, I could only give you a few course titles, a vague impression of what one or two professors were like, and absolutely none of the information I learned.  I had a major confrontation with a family member during that time, that I only remembered happening because my dad brought it up recently. I still only have a vague idea of what was said.  Even my memories before that time are more blurry and distant than they used to be, and many memories that used to be present in my mind are only familiar once someone else reminds me.
Which brings me to some points to consider before making any decisions (in no particular order):
1. Being put under general anesthesia multiple times a week isn’t good for you.  This was a risk that wasn’t even mentioned to me.  It’s not like I didn’t know anesthesia isn’t good for you, but as a desperate, suicidal 19 year old, I was understandably not making the most balanced choices.  And for all the hospital knew, I could have been a very uneducated person.  I don’t blame the hospital for the decisions I made, but it should have been their job to educate me about the risks, make sure I fully understood them, and to the best of their ability, make sure that I was making as rational a decision as a suicidal 19 year old in her third inpatient ward can be expected to make.
I don’t actually know, but I assume the dose they give you for ECT is lower than it might be for surgeries.  I would still recommend you do some research on the long term effects of general anesthesia, because they can be quite concerning.
2. You can lose a significant number of memories and sustain damage to your working memory.  One of the reasons ECT is often considered an extreme resort is because of how common, how profound, and how permanent the side effects can be.  It’s like looking up a new medication that you’re taking on drugs.com and discovering that some of the most severe side effects that you’d expect to be under less common or rare are actually among the most common.  Older people or those with pre-existing neurological issues are more prone to damage from ECT, but it truly can happen to anyone. There is no way to predict it beforehand, and there is no way to tell what damage you will sustain based on how you feel during the treatments.  I sort of subconsciously assumed that, because I often felt fine and recovered more quickly than those around me in the treatment, that I wasn’t getting the bad side effects at all.  Nope.  You’ll often feel loopy, sleepy, or spaced out during the course of the treatment, and you’ll lose a lot of your immediate memories during that time, so it’s impossible to tell what kind of effects you’ll end up with in the long term.
Then again, the treatment does wonders for some people.  It’s a difficult question - do I try a treatment that may or may not help me at all, which may or may not give me long-term memory damage, but which has the potential to make a massive improvement or cure me altogether?  No one can answer that for you.
3. It’s likely you won’t be given an accurate impression of the treatment by the facility providing it.  Stories on the internet will give you the worst impression of ECT.  The hospital that provides it will give you the best impression of ECT.  In my opinion, the “truth” is somewhere in the middle.  Still, ASK.  Be irritating.  Drill whoever you’re talking to.  Ask them what the worst case scenario is.  Ask them at what point in psychiatric treatment they feel it’s appropriate to introduce that kind of risk.  They’ll tell you about the people whose lives were changed by ECT, but ask them about the people whose lives weren’t changed.  Ask them about the people like me, whose lives weren’t ruined, but weren’t saved either.  Ask how likely it is that you’ll end up with a moderate amount of damage and no benefit.  Remember that you can always have ECT in the back of your mind, but once it’s done, you can’t undo it.
Looking at websites like mayoclinic and whatnot does not provide an accurate impression of the risks. It just doesn’t. There’s no one source - except me, of course :))) - that will give you a truly accurate, balanced impression of what ECT is like.  I just googled a few sites to see what they had to say, and their descriptions make ECT sound like a walk in the park.  It’s not.
It’s not a decision that you need to make quickly.  Again, if I had been told I wasn’t allowed to get ECT until I was out of the hospital and judged to be a little more stable, I still probably would have done it.  But again, everyone is not me.
4. How will you feel having ECT as a possibility in reserve vs. having tried it and failed?  Before ECT, the stakes of my psychiatric and theraputic treatment weren’t quite so high.  They were worth a solid try, but there was always this mystical treatment that I could get if my depression got to the point where all that was left was this “extreme resort.”  I always thought it was strange and probably for insurance reasons that ECT was only for extreme cases, if it had such potential to turn my entire life around.  Why wait year after year, wasting my life trying every class of antidepressant and driving 45 minutes once a week to tell a woman I paid to listen to me that yes, I was still depressed?  Clearly I needed help, so why waste all this time making sure nothing else could possibly work first?  It gave me a sense of hope, but it also put me in a mindset where I found it difficult to fully commit to the therapy I had at the time.
The aftermath of ECT required coming to terms with some tough truths.  It was never a miracle cure.  There were perfectly legitimate reasons why it was reserved for extreme cases.  With that sense of hope gone, I felt crushed, but in a sense, I’m better off.  I feel hopeless very often, and I feel desperate, but at least I’m desperate enough to throw myself into the therapy I have, rather than wonder about the possibilities of what I don’t have.
Of course, there’s no guarantee that ECT would fail for you.  It might change your life.  A lot of people who are helped by it will go back every 6-12 months for a “tune-up.”  But I think it’s a significant enough decision that you need to evaluate how not getting ECT could affect your attitude towards other treatments, as well as being prepared to cope in case you try it and it fails.  You need to enter the treatment with the mindset that ECT failing does not mean you’re a lost cause.  It’s an extreme resort, but it’s never your last resort.  Many things - even the effectiveness of different medications - can change with time.  You can even have another go at ECT years down the road, because sometimes it works differently once you’ve had even more time to age and mature.
5. It’s not considered an extreme resort because it’s a risky-but-potentially-miraculous cure.  Like I said in the last point, I’d held misconceptions about ECT and the reason it’s not done more often for a very long time.  It’s considered an extreme resort because it’s an intense procedure, that most people don’t need, and which doesn’t have the greatest track record.  Some people have life-changing experiences with ECT.  That’s fantastic.  But I’ll bet the reason they don’t advertise the statistics is because an awful lot of people don’t.  Medication and talk therapy has a much higher success rate and much less severe or permanent downsides than ECT.  I know I’ve said it a million different ways, but it’s an awful lot of risk for something that doesn’t seem to have a particularly high success rate.
6. TMSTMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation) is like a less extreme, and much more recently invented version of ECT.  I don’t know the exact details of the treatment, but my roommate at McLean (a woman in her 40s, who had gone up and down during the years but still hadn’t given up) was getting it at the same time I was getting ECT.  Instead of shocking your brain and triggering a brain seizure, TMS is a constant electrical pulse. You stay awake the whole time. It also has potential negative side effects, but they’re generally less extreme than those of ECT.  If you’re in the US, many insurance companies have already approved coverage of TMS.  Many patients who were receiving TMS at McLean were doing so as a less extreme alternative to ECT, with the plan that if TMS was ineffective, they would be open to moving up to ECT.  If TMS can help you, it’s much better to avoid undertaking the risks of ECT altogether.  I was desperate at the time and didn’t see the point of going for the milder treatment, but in hindsight I think it’s a much wiser idea.
I’ve actually thought about TMS for myself.  I don’t know what the likelihood of it working for me now, a year and a half after ECT not working, and I’m concerned that it would make my mild tinnitus worse, but it might be a possibility.  Again, it’s a more extreme treatment than most psychiatric medications and talk therapy, but it’s not on the level of being put under general anesthesia and having a brain seizure two or three times a week.
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theweapingwonder · 5 years ago
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Where do i start
A little back story we had met through a mutual friend of ours (no longer his friend) (yes me and her are still friends to this day) she was pissed when she found out what happened (read to find out) Yes it was a long distance relationship big mistake on my part for trusting someone like this I apologize if this story is all over the place or may not make much sense but i left a few things out that i didn't want to share Lets go back a few years to July 11th of 2016 the day that i started dating the guy i thought loved me the guy i thought i was gonna spend my life with i don't date just to date i date for maybe one day the hope of getting married....but anyway a few months went by i was in love (I fall hard and fast i can't help it) in those few months i was the happiest i have ever been i couldn't stop smiling, laughing feeling like I've never felt before skip ahead a few more months i say about 6months in i felt him pushing me away i asked what's wrong why are you pushing me away the answer was im sorry im just having a bad day...i knew that wasn't it but i didn't wanna make him mad by asking over and over so i just put it to the back of my mind after that everything was okay at least that's what i thought in my mind but i was wrong fast forward to 8months later (it would be September) this is when everything just started to crumble September 7th or 9th i can't remember which but he had gotten a phone call while he was at work that morning i had no idea what was going on i didn't hear anything from him til late that night it was on a Thursday he had lost his little sister idk what happened and to this day i still don't know what has happened (i forgot to add we had been dating a year and 2months by this point) back to the story anyway.. He was mad, sad, basically all kinds of emotions i didn't know what to do i never lost anyone close to me like he was close to her and yeah ive lost family but we weren't close i didn't know how he really felt but i know it torn him up he talked about wanting to kill himself that scared me the most i never been in a situation (idk a better a word or situation for this i appologize) i didn't know what to do i cried for weeks i talked to other people i was beyond scared i felt hopeless i couldn't sleep i was scared of going to bed and waking up to a message or a phone call saying he was gone the total amount of sleep i had gotten in over of what felt like weeks was maybe 6 hours of sleep i was a complete mess i stayed in bed all day except the occasional bathroom breaks of course, a few more weeks went by it seemed to be getting a little better i know you really never get over something like this i don't know how hard it really is i did the best i could to be there for him through all this i sent him a good morning message everyday to let him know i was there for him and how much i loved him, now skip ahead to January 9th of 2018 a year and a half later the day he broke up with me it started out normal day or what felt normal to that night he sent me a message we need to talk i hate those words but i knew what was happening i knew he was breaking up with me so many thoughts came to my head was he mad at me did i do something wrong and here came the over used speech its not you its me by this point i was in tears i didn't know what was wrong i called my friend Dixie (no its not her real name) told her what had happened i was confused she was confused it was a mess at this point she was the only one that knew so me and her talked for awhile then we hung up i cried myself to sleep Hoping this was all a dream ( i was wrong of course) i didn't want to eat, smile or be around anyone but i acted like i was happy so no one knew what was wrong, i can't remember but the next day or the day after i told my other friends i tried to keep my mind off it after i had told them i felt numb i had no more tears nothing really happened over the next few days or weeks so lets skip ahead to 5months later i found out the truth and about the lies he told me 1) he told me he didn't have Facebook ( no i didn't care either way i was just curious) but he didn't have to lie about it 2) i happened to be on Facebook when it came up under the people you may know part there it was with his new girlfriend just wait! 3) they started dating 7 months before he broke up with and no i didn't know i wish i would of known i just couldn't believe it 3) the excuse i laughed this is what he said "I didn't know if we was still together or not" THAT WAS COMPLETE BS 4) i was under the impression he told his parents and everyone about me ( i was wrong) he didn't tell anyone i had told everyone and told them how much of a great guy he was (again i was wrong and stupid by this point for believing what he had told me) 5) i also learned that he played me the whole entire relationship all because he said he felt sorry for me for being single for as long as i was when i told him from the beginning while we were just talking that i didn't care that i was single and that i would find someone one day but i guess he just took that upon himself to do that to me i also said that i hate players and people who lie 6) i didn't hold back i told him he was pathetic and a lie anything i could think of came out of my mouth i was pissed and hurt at the same time i felt really stupid i just wish i would of known before it had gotten that far i wasted a year and a half with someone who i thought loved me and cared about me.
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dailyaudiobible · 6 years ago
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02/13/2019 DAB Transcript
Exodus 35:10-36:38, Matthew 27:32-66, Psalms 34:1-10, Proverbs 9:7-8
Today is the 13th day of February. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian and it is a pleasure and a joy to be here with you around the global campfire that is nice and warm and bringing light and life and good news, and we just gather around and allow God's word to speak, which is what we're about to do. We’re reading from the Contemporary English Version this week. Exodus chapter 35 verse 10 through 36 verse 38 today.
Commentary:
Okay. It’s hard to talk about anything else but what we were reading about in the book of Matthew today. And it's pretty hard to talk about that because for the first time we experienced the crucifixion of Jesus in our reading from the Scriptures this year. And, so, there’s not a whole lot else to say. And we know it's the story of our salvation but if we would just sit with the humanity of the scene. It's so heartbreaking. It is so profoundly sad to think that the Creator who fashioned beings in His own image with the idea that a mutual relationship could be formed and bound by covenant, that this creator would come and become one of us only to be killed by us. This is profoundly sad. And it doesn't feel like it's been that long ago since we began our journey but within the first couple of days of our journey we saw everything get blown apart in the book of Genesis. And in the scene that we’re seeing in the book of Matthew today we’re able to see just how far, just how twisted, just how backward an upside-down things had gotten among the human race. And to be honest, we could just look around now and say things are still pretty upside down and backward but now we don't really have an excuse because there is a way. This bloody scene that we’re seeing play out on a cross and the gasps of an innocent man, His blood was shed on our behalf and we were restored to God in the process for those of us who believe. We have no business and no excuse for living backward and upside down anymore. It's not supposed to be our reality anymore. So, if there's a thought, if there's something for us to live into today, it would be to sit with the brutal scene that is before us and what it cost to bring freedom into our lives and then to consider the ways that we’re living far less than free.
Prayer:
Jesus, thank You. And even as we say it the words fall flat because what can we say? We had no way to untangle the mess in our species created in Your image. We were irreversibly lost and then You came and rescued us and we didn't earn it and there's nothing that we can do. You’re giving it to us as a gift and so often we find ourselves not even taking the gift that cost You Your life and living into it and being transformed by it and being shaped into Your likeness. So, often we’re busy trying to make You in our image and make You do the things that we need done instead of the other way around and we’re repenting and were sitting with the starkness of the scene that the Scripture has brought into our lives today and contemplating it because there is no other story to tell. And, so, we invite Your Holy Spirit, come. Make this scene matter to us. Show us how to embrace it and show us how it is to transform us because of the work that was accomplished there, the victory that was won. Come Holy Spirit and let us sit with the weightiness of what we’ve read today and appreciate with a heart of gratitude and help us to look at the world through Your eyes. You looked at the world and loved it even though that hated You. You died for people who wanted You dead. What kind of love is that? Lead us deeper into that love we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Announcements:
dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, it’s where you find out what’s going on around here.
I thank you for your continued prayers over our journey to actually walk in the footsteps of Jesus and experience the land of the Bible coming up here next week.
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And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.
Community Prayer and Praise:
Hi, this is Amber from California. I’m a new listener and I just wanted to call in and say that the Daily Audio Bible has really blessed my life. I tend to have difficulties finding the time to sit down and just soak in the word and it’s really been an awesome experience for me to listen to Scripture and then reflect and have my own study. So, just wanted to call in and say what a blessing it was. I also wanted to share a prayer request with you all. I’ve been married for some time and have children with my husband and I’m just calling to ask our community to reach out and pray for my husband who has been struggling with a sleepwalk and really just a lot of spiritual warfare within our home and marriage and specifically with him. So, just wanted to call and ask the brothers and sisters to lift him up prayer and me up in prayer. Really trying to strive to be the mom and life that God has called me to be. So, thanks so much for listening and I look forward too much more in this community.
Hello everyone, this is Peggy in Texas. And first I want to thank Brian for doing an excellent job day after day, such a blessing to me personally. I’m calling…I’m asking for prayer for my precious grandson Xander. This is…I’ve called before, and he’s troubled, he’s alone, he’s manic-depressive, he’s drinking, he doesn’t have a doctor. So, he’s not getting any help. He hasn’t sought Christian friends. In fact, I don’t think he has one. Today he called, and he was frightened and afraid something might happen to him and afraid someone was out to cause him trouble. And I think he’s trying to reach out and say a call for help and yet I don’t know for sure. He’s in school and is working, an engineer student. So, as a grandmother I’, trying to keep the lines open to him and I’m trying to communicate love and guidance and, you know, personally I think he needs to be in a treatment center but financially that’s…that’s not possible. Anyway, you’ve got the picture. I’m a very concerned person, a very concerned grand mom. I don’t want to be a worrier, I want to trust the Lord, but I’m week. And, so…and I don’t have a great support system right now and I’m just calling on someone to pray with me. So, anyway I’m feeling a tad lonely and I just need you all too. And, so, I’m turning to you. Sometimes it’s just hard to pray. Maybe all of you have experienced that at some time but I’m in that boat tonight. And, so, I’m asking for you precious people to pray for my precious grandson, Xander. Thank you.
Hi, this is Victoria Soldier just calling. Wanted to say thank you Brian for all the fire that you’ve been putting out on the web and through your word and it’s been really blessing my soul and I just wanted to call and bless some of the other souls more abundantly. And I just wanted to pray for Prodigal and Rebecca and I wanted to pray for Hamm and Jamie and Tyler and I wanted to pray for the lady who wanted a friend and she was going through. I wanted to pray for those who have gone through depression and trying to help them to take away that precious life of the precious life through wanting to commit suicide. Lord, I just ask You to fill them with so much joy that they will see what You have before them, that the enemy is trying to take away them feeling not only the joy but knowing that they have salvation in You, knowing that they are going to be with You. Oh Lord You’re coming back soon. The world act like they don’t remember that You said You were coming back, they don’t remember that You are the way the truth and the light, but Lord You said You’re coming back __ without spot or wrinkle. You said we shall not all sleep but we shall be all changed in the moment, in the twinkling of an eye, when the sound is gonna sound and You gonna hear…and the mighty archangels…and the dead in Christ will arise first and we that are alive will be caught up to meet Him in the air. Lord I pray for my brothers and sisters today that the enemy’s trying to trick. You fill them with Your joy, You equip them with what You need to make this mighty journey. Oh Lord You bless those that need a friend, You bless those that need a spouse, You bless the one who is looking to have a baby and they couldn’t conceive but God You are…it all comes from You. Lord I just ask You to bless that womb Lord, that they will produce the baby that You have…
Hi this is Tony from Germany. I’m actually in Minnesota visiting my family and I just wanted to call in to….I’ve been listening to the Daily Audio Bible during my commute to their place…they’re in a nursing home, my parents. So, but for Tito, I want to tell you that I have tithed for many many years and I’m gonna tell you that the Lord has opened amazing doors for me and I believe that is because I tithe. For example, even going to Germany, it was just very miraculous and many many other things. And I just wanted to relay that to you because I wanted to give you a little bit of hope so you can continue onward. And then for Pelham, you know what __ ice. Not ICE but EIS, as you know, is just amazing amazing Italian ice cream. And, so I feel the Lord is steering you in the right business and perhaps at some point in time in planting a seed you will travel to Italy to learn different recipes, experiment with different recipes so one day you could do your own, come up with your own Italian ice recipe. So, remember you are not alone. I know that you’re reaching some low points. We are your family and we do love you. So, just remember that. Thanks for sharing your story with us and your faith and your faith journey. The other thing I wanted to say is I have played the Daily Audio Bible to my parents. My dad keeps his eyes closed a lot but when I have played the Daily Audio Bible his eyes open and he listens and at one point he took off his glasses, laid them down and blessed himself with this big…
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flockofdoves · 6 years ago
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i dont really know why im posting this on my public blog instead of privately or probably even more sensibly with people i care about (although i just feel so alienated, i’ve become good friends with people in college and i love them a lot but i’m not sure despite how open some people have encouraged me to be, if my relationships are close enough to talk about this kinds of stuff seriously, which might be a weird concern because i overshare all the time but i just always feel really guilty for it) i guess i mind less about people hearing this and more about burdening anyone in specific, idk!!
but yeah ive just been really emotional this week, or really ive had the same range of emotions as usual but ive just been crying a lot again. i used to cry almost every day and have like weekly panic attacks in high school when my relationship with my parents was really toxic and i was harassed every day at school my senior year, but since freshman year after my dad was diagnosed and then my nana passed away and then my dad passed away too for the most part i’ve just been holding in so much and i’m finally starting to let that out this past month or so but in really weird ways where i’ll burst out sobbing even in public over the stupidest shit
and thats started to happen multiple times a week as of this past week and its made me realize how i feel alone all over again. i have one person at university i would consider to genuinely be a close friend even if he may not consider me a best friend, i’m not sure, but we only see each other around every other week when we actually plan to hang out because we’re no longer in any of the same classes or dorms or anything. beyond that i feel most comfortable with people from work, and consider many of them to be my friends, but recently some of my co-managers have been speaking out about how they feel unwelcome in our work environment and it can feel cliquey and it makes me so upset that i didn’t pick up the cues that shouldve made me realize that, i feel like i’m not doing my part and if i am misinterpreting my relationships with my coworkers, then maybe they dont even consider me as much of a friend as i do them.
and then ive started to get closer with a few people ive only really talked to since school started and they really all are just such wonderful people and i want to get to know them better but i worry the way i’m opening up to them is disproportionate and unfair to them but i really don’t know how to navigate this all.
its making me realize i dont think my avoidant personality disorder shit ever actually improved for the most part, it was just that my two best friends, shannon and burke, and my girlfriend, jacqueline, have been a constant in my life for so long now that my constant anxieties about my relationships with others and my interactions didn’t feel as prominent because at least logically i knew i could rely on them
and of course i can, i love all three of them so much and they have been for me through so much, but since college i don’t get to see shannon every day and burke multiple times a month, when we catch up its wonderful, and i’m sure its all natural to how long term friendships work, but not having them here physically sometimes makes me feel a bit more lonely, because regardless of how many seemingly positive interactions i have with someone who isn’t them or who i’ve met in the past couple years, based on experience i can never have the reassurance that i have with them that they have explicitly given me throughout the years for ages after where i currently stand in all my irl friendships, and who knows how much of that all is mutual even now we’re those newer friendships are at. and even jacqueline, who i try to talk to as much as possible, this past year has been so emotionally draining that i’ve slipped into not talking at least once a day like we used to and i feel like i dont have nearly as much time as i want to be spending with her having fun. and for all three of them i worry i just am not there for them like i want to be.
and just specifically with romantic stuff it makes me so upset i’ve only ever got to visit jacqueline irl once, which was almost a year ago now, and that most of that memory even though i loved the short time we had i also associate with my dads health turning even worse because his legs becoming paralyzed while me and my mom were in oklahoma of course meant that we cut the trip short because of course we wanted to make sure my dad was safe and okay.
and yeah just after crying again today, my new friends hugging me was really nice, but when i went into my room right afterward i burst out sobbing, and i have no idea how to recover from this or comfort myself effectively, i only know how to sleep it off and feel like shit when i wake up halfway through the next day. so now thats why i’m writing this to vent and have been for like the past 45 minutes and still havent really gotten to all of it. i don’t know how to comfort myself but i know right now i just really wish i had someone that could just lie down with me and comfort me, maybe even a bit romantically.
and i feel really goofy for saying that, i get really self conscious about how immature i feel compared to so many people my age, sometimes i think its in part an autism thing but also i know other autistics at my university who aren’t like this so i really don’t have a decent excuse but like . i’ve never even done that with someone.
me and jacqueline only got to see each other essentially a day before i suddenly needed to go back to ohio, we were both so nervous, we took a while to even hold hands, and that day and a half we saw each other i had my first kiss, and later my last kiss i’ve had since. both of those and the ones in between being just a peck on the lips. i’m not complaining about that, i don’t think we should’ve rushed our pace, but i think it goes to show how lost i feel in navigating this all if even after knowing her so well and dating her for over 2 years at that point, i froze so much.
i’m comfortable with jacqueline with stuff like that because she’s expressed shes in a similar boat, and i really appreciate that understanding. i think its wonderful how we’ve been together for almost 3 years now, but also thinking about that is wild. i was in such a different place back then, i don’t think i really knew what dating someone or being in a relationship entailed. i’m happy with how we go about our relationship, but also i get really lost when comparing how i define and go about romantic things versus most people i’ve met in college. i’ve never been in a relationship with anyone but her, and i’ve never been in a relationship that wasn’t long distance. i love her and i wish she were closer so maybe we could begin to figure that out together. also ive had a lot of casual crushes on girls at college in the past couple years and i think it would be really nice to explore that too, but honestly i have no idea how to go about that and its so daunting to try to think about so i just resign it as unrealistic unless something extremely significant changes within the next few years, and then i’ll be really pathetic for not knowing anything as a fucking 23 year old maybe in grad school or something. and so i just get to feeling more lonely and having more anxiety about my interactions and relationships with others.
i know its a common thing apparently for lgbt people to be “late bloomers” but im surrounded by so many lgbt people who are so far ahead of me with relationship stuff, and i don’t think i’ve met a single lgbt person in college besides myself who is quite this inexperienced/naive/etc.
i dont know how i’m ever supposed to learn this stuff at this rate, even if i feel slightly less bad about stuff like my appearance and personality nowadays (or more like, i know i look weird but i care less now because i dont care enough any more to try changing my appearance over it, and then i’m still terrible with communication and social cues and oversharing and all my weird shit etc etc etc but i guess at least i try to be compassionate and that must at least be somewhat noticeable if other people sometimes remark on it), even if people are fine with that and find me interesting enough, i really don’t see how almost any girl who got that far would then find it worth it to deal with how fucking stunted i am in that regard. like thats just not fair to have to have someone guide me around so much because i just have no idea what to do and no idea How to figure that out.
so yeah im just . having a rough time im very emotional and expressing it physically (which while somewhat cathartic after feeling so empty, also makes me feel worse because the context in which i last was like this is not one i want to dwell on now that my dad has passed and ive been in the process of forgiveness) and i have so much love for so many people but also i feel so so so so so lost and alone and stunted and i really just don’t know how to begin working on that and its really embarrassing to admit.
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Should I sue or settle with the insurance company?
"Should I sue or settle with the insurance company?
So, my 2010 Sentra (Brand New less than 6K miles) was rearended. It's been hell dealing with the other guy's insurance company- never return calls, no followup, etc..... My car is back looking great except for minor details (issue with the trunk) which I hope to work out with the shop. They are giving me a low ball offer on diminished value and I live in a state that grants diminished value Here are my questions: 1) Is there a simple calculator that can be used to calculate diminshed value? The car was in pristine condition prior to the wreck 2) At this point, is it better to use a Attorney? I want to be compensated for days lost from work, medical expenses, diminished value, pain and suffering (also if shop is not able to work out minor repair detail I want compensation for that )
BEST ANSWER:  Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://saleinsurancequotes.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr 
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Should I sue or settle with the insurance company?
So, my 2010 Sentra (Brand New less than 6K miles) was rearended. It's been hell dealing with the other guy's insurance company- never return calls, no followup, etc..... My car is back looking great except for minor details (issue with the trunk) which I hope to work out with the shop. They are giving me a low ball offer on diminished value and I live in a state that grants diminished value Here are my questions: 1) Is there a simple calculator that can be used to calculate diminshed value? The car was in pristine condition prior to the wreck 2) At this point, is it better to use a Attorney? I want to be compensated for days lost from work, medical expenses, diminished value, pain and suffering (also if shop is not able to work out minor repair detail I want compensation for that )
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/cheapest-car-insurance-18-year-old-who-has-just-passed-beland-rajka"
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adambstingus · 7 years ago
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The age of banter
The long read: It used to be just a word now it is a way of life. But is it time to get off the banter bus?
Its the most fucking ridiculous story, isnt it? We went to watch fucking dolphins, and we ended up in fucking Syria. Last summer in the Mediterranean party resort of Ayia Napa, Lewis Ellis was working as a club rep. I mean, it was fucking 8am, he told an Australian website soon afterwards, and the last fucking club had closed, and we thought, We can still go dolphin watching. Well blag our way on to a fucking boat and go dolphin watching.
But when the boat sailed so far that Cyprus disappeared from view, Ellis explained, they started to worry. Why are we so far from land? they asked the crew. Were fucking miles away and weve got no fucking wifi. Something, Ellis said, had been lost in translation; his exuberant season as a shepherd for the resorts party pilgrims had gone terribly awry. The crew wasnt taking them to watch dolphins: they were going to a Russian naval base in the city of Tartus, on Syrias Mediterranean coast. Yeah, it is a little ridiculous.
It was, nonetheless, a story that had legs. Hungover lads boat trip boob lands them in Syria, wahey-ed the Mirror; British holidaymakers board party boat in Ayia Napa and end up in war-torn SYRIA, guffawed the Express. If you saw these headlines at the time, you may dimly remember the rest. A stubborn trawler captain, chugging doggedly onwards to Tartus, where he turfed the friends out upon landing; interrogation at the hands of Russian intelligence officers; mutual hilarity as the Russians realised what had happened; and, after a hot meal, a quick tour of the area, and a good nights sleep, spots on the next fishing vessel headed back to Cyprus. It was never made clear why the captain had let them on the boat in the first place, but whatever. Everyone lapped it up.
Reflecting on the whole thing five months later, Ellis, a 26-year-old with a business degree and a marketing masters, couldnt totally wrap his head around it. I think I found 35 stories about us, he told me. I read about myself in the Hawaiian Express, do you know what I mean? (Notwithstanding that there doesnt appear to be any such newspaper, yes, I definitely do.)
What made it really weird to see the media pile in with such unstinting enthusiasm was that the story was total cobblers. I could not believe how gullible they were, Ellis said, a top note of glee still in his voice. We were just having a laugh! It was banter!
Lads: this is the age of banter. Its long been somewhat about the banter, but over the last few years, it has come to seem that its all about the banter an unabashedly bumptious attitude that took up a position on the outskirts of the culture in the early 90s and has been larging its way towards the centre ever since. There are hundreds of banter groups on Facebook, from Banter Britain (no memes insinuating child abuse/dead babies!!!) to Wanker Banter 18+ (Have a laugh and keep it sick) to the Premier League Banter Page (The only rule: keep it banter). You can buy an I banter mug on Amazon for 9, or an Archbishop of Banterbury T-shirt for 9.99.
There are now four branches of a restaurant called Scoff & Banter. When things were going badly at Chelsea FC under Jos Mourinho, it was reported the team had banned all banter in an attempt to focus their minds, and that terminology appeared in the newspapers, as if you would know exactly what it meant. Someone has created a banter map of London using a keyword search on the flatshare website SpareRoom, showing exactly where people are looking for a roommate with good banter (Clapham tends to feature prominently). When a 26-year-old man from Leeds posed for a selfie with a bemused aeroplane hijacker, Vice declared it the high-water mark of banter.
Lewis Ellis (left) and friends in Ayia Napa, pretending to be in Syria. Photograph: Lewis Ellis
If you are younger than about 35, you are likely to hear the term all the time. Either you have banter (if you are funny and can take a joke) or you dont (if you arent and cannot). The mainstream, in summary, is now drunk and asleep on the sofa, and banter is delightedly drawing a penis on its forehead.
As banter has risen, it has expanded. Long a word used to describe submerged expressions of fraternal love, it is now also a word used to excuse uninhibited displays of masculine bravado. Today, it is segregated by class, seized on by brands, picked over by psychologists, and deplored by cultural critics; it is dominant, hotly contested and only hazily understood.
And so, whether he intends it to or not, Ellis use of the term raises some questions. Is he throwing his lot in with the most pervasive branch of the blokeish mainstream, a sanitised and benevolent hilarity that stretches from lad-dad panel shows to your mates zinger about your terrible haircut? Or is he lining up with the misogynist imitators of the Bullingdon club, a sprinkling of racists, and, as we shall see, an actual murderer purveyors of a malicious and insidious masculinity that insists on its indivisible authority and calls you a slut if you object?
Ellis isnt preoccupied by these questions, but for what its worth, he does say that he and his friends never had the slightest intention of going to Syria. We werent really trying to fool anyone, he told me, although Im not sure thats entirely consistent with the facts. We were out for a stroll, and we came across this area that looked really run down, we thought it looked like Syria. So we put it on the club reps [Facebook] page that thats where we were. And everyone started liking it. And then one of the people who contacted us was from LADBible which is like the Bible, but for LADS so we said, well have a mess around here. Well tell a completely ridiculous story, see if the media believes it. See if we can become LADBible famous.
It did, they could. Eventually, the truth came out, not thanks to any especially determined investigative journalism, but because Ellis cheerily admitted on Facebook that his tale of magnificent idiocy was a fiction. Hahaha what a prank, he wrote, with some justification.
The confession only brought another cycle of attention. Publications that had picked up the story in the first place resurfaced it with new headlines to reflect the audacity of the invention; social media users adduced it as evidence for their views of young men, or the media, or both. The Russian embassys Twitter account called it a telling example of how many Syria (and Russia) stories are made up by UK papers, which was great geopolitical banter. The attention entertained Ellis, but he says it wasnt the point. We just thought it was funny, he said. People are too serious. I keep being told to grow up, but I still want to have a good time. Ive had the jobs, Ive got the education. But when Im off work, I want to escape.
Ellis is an enthusiast and an optimist. He is, he told me late last year, desperate to take every opportunity, just to say yes to everything I can. We were on a night out in Manchester with his friends Tyson, John and Chris. In the course of the evening, the following things found their way into my beer: fingers; salt; vinegar; mayonnaise; a chip; saliva; a 10 note; and, I hazily remember being told after the fact, at least two shots of vodka.
Everyones got a thing in the group, Ellis said, as we walked from one bar to the next. One guy, hes not even that ugly, we say he looks like a Peperami. Tysons got this mole on his face, its like a Coco Pop, so youve got a Coco Pop on your face. I looked like Harry Potter when I was a kid, so they call me Potter, thats my nickname. Every single one of us has something. So you youve got Chinese eyes. Youre Chinese.
For the record, I didnt think this was OK, but coming after such a harmless litany, it didnt seem malicious enough to confront. Of course, tacit endorsement is what makes such offensive epithets a commonplace, and so it troubles me that it made me feel mysteriously welcome, just as it had when John punched me lightly in the balls when I arrived. There was no doubting Elliss sincerity: as he spoke, the sheer daft beauty of male friendship seemed to amaze him, almost to the point of physical pain. We just take the piss out of each other, and thats how we show our love, he said. So many group chats on the phone, and you just take the piss until they cry. And its like, when youre really killing them, you go, Ill stop if you want, because you know they cant say yes, so you just keep going. Then we arrived at the next bar, where I was made to drink something called a Zombie.
Early in the evening, before any of this had undermined my ability to take useful notes, Ellis broke off from talking as we walked down the street and sidled into a window display at Next Home, where he Tracey Emined a carefully made bed by climbing into it and rolling around. Everyone cracked up. Give the world a laugh, Ellis tends to think, and the world will smile back at you. Jump on a boat, and youll end up somewhere great; make the boat up, and youll get there faster. Its all about having fun, its all about the banter, he said, after hed rejoined us outside. Banter is about making the world a more exciting place.
If nobody can agree on what banter is, thats hardly a new problem. The first usage of the word recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary comes from noted Restoration lad Thomas dUrfey, also known for his hit song The Fart, in a satirical 1677 play called Madam Fickle. Banter him, banter him, Toby, a character called Zechiel urges, which may be the first time that someone called Toby was so instructed, but certainly wasnt the last.
The OED also notes early attempts at a definition by Jonathan Swift and Samuel Johnson. (Swift mentions a banter upon transubstantiation, in which a cork is turned into a horse, and fair enough, turning a cork into a horse would be classic banter.) Both are a little disgusted by the word, and neither unearths much of an origin story: by their accounts, banter is so coarse that it emerged, fully formed and without antecedent, out of the mouths of oafs.
As it turns out, though, the OED is not at present fully able to handle the banter. According to Eleanor Maier, an associate editor on the dictionary, a search of earlier English texts reveals that a number of previous examples are missing from the dictionarys definition, which was first drafted in 1885 including a quote from a 1657 translation of Don Quixote. (After examining the history, Maier told me that she would be adding banter to the list of entries that are up for review.)
dougie stew (@DougieStew)
Welcome to London #BagelGate pic.twitter.com/KcJoz0ycZU
February 26, 2017
In recent years, banter has barged into our lives at a remarkable clip. Googles Ngram Viewer, a tool that assesses (with some limitations) the frequency with which a term appears in a large database of written sources, finds that banter popped up about twice as often in 2008, the most recent year covered, as it did in 1980.
But banter plugged away for a long time before it became an overnight success. In the 19th century, it often denoted a kind of formal sparring. Even as the term evolved over the 20th, it continued to seem a little prim. In the House of Commons in 1936, Ramsay MacDonald, the former Labour prime minister who had returned in a new seat after losing his old one, was subjected to a good deal of banter Dear old Granny MacDonald!, among other witticisms.In 1981, a Guardian report that chess champion Anatoly Karpov and his handlers had successfully protested at his challenger Viktor Korchnois constant cross-board talk ran under the unlikely headline: Chess banter banned.
Such stories do little to prepare us for what banter has become. Consider the viral video that became known as #bagelgate earlier this year. In the recording, a minor scuffle broke out on the 00.54 train from Kings Cross to Huntingdon, and then for no obviously related reason a woman who had a large bag of bagels decided to put one on the head of the guy sitting in front of her, and then another after he took it off and threw it out of the window, and another and another, and then everyone in the carriage started chanting hes got a bagel on his head, and eventually the slightly spoddy victim who is me when I was 13 and someone filled my pencil case with Mr Kipling apple pies (squashed, oozing) because I was fat lost it and screamed Get the fuck out of my face!, and then another fight broke out on the platform, and then the police got on to the train, and every single person fell into not-me-guv silence: this is not Granny MacDonalds banter any more.
If it is hard to understand how these activities can fall under the same umbrella, it should be noted that a phenomenon may predate our choice of term to describe it its just that the act of definition makes it more visible, and perhaps more likely to be imitated. At some point, though, banter became the name for what British men already regarded as their natural tone of voice. There is a very deeply embedded folk culture in the UK of public ribaldry, extreme sarcasm, facetiousness in other words, of laddishness, says Tony Thorne, a linguist and cultural historian. What you might think of as banter now is rooted in that tradition.
That tradition first lashed itself to banters mast in the early 1990s, and controversy soon followed. In June 1992, a Guardian story headlined Police fire sex banter officer, about the dismissal of a sergeant for sexual harassment, recorded an early skirmish in the modern banter wars, and an important new layer to its meaning in the wild: The move is seen as part of the Metropolitan polices desire to reassure women officers that what has previously been tolerated as banter is no longer acceptable. Two years later, the lads mags arrived.
The first edition of Loaded magazine appeared in May 1994, with a picture of Gary Oldman on the front smoking a dog-end, under a banner that declared him a super lad. What fresh lunacy is this? the editors note read. Loaded is a new magazine dedicated to life, liberty and the pursuit of sex, drink, football and less serious matters Loaded is for the man who believes he can do anything, if only he wasnt hungover.
If banter dismays you, James Brown, the magazines first editor, is quite an easy bogeyman. As he acknowledges himself, he created a title that defined a genre. Loaded was swiftly recognised as a foundational text for a resurgent and ebullient masculinity that had been searching for public expression. While it was always overtly horny, the magazine was initially more interested in a forlorn, slackjawed and self-ironising appreciation of A-listers (one reversible poster had Cindy Crawford on one side and a steam train on the other) than the grot-plus-football formula that successors and imitators like Maxim, Zoo and Nuts milked to destruction. But it also flirted with something murkier.
To its critics, Loaded and its imitators aimed to sanitise a certain hooliganistic worldview with a strategic disclaimer. Banter emerges as this relentless gloss of irony over everything, said Bethan Benwell, senior lecturer in language and linguistics at the University of Stirling and the author of several papers on mens magazines. The constant excusing of sexist or homophobic sentiments with this wink that says you dont really mean it. Benwell pointed to Loadeds emblematic strapline: For men who should know better.
Brown denies that his magazine invented banter. Instead, he says, it captured a zeitgeist that the media had previously failed to acknowledge; the folk culture that Tony Thorne refers to, brought out into the open. Before Browns intervention, GQ had run John Major and Michael Heseltine as cover stars, for Gods sake. I took the interests and the outlook of the young men that I knew, and I put them in a magazine, Brown said. Im not responsible for the tone of the later entrants to the market. We were criticised because we fancied women, not because we belittled them.
The thing about Loaded was that the way we wrote reflected the way we were with our mates, he went on. Theres definitely a thing that exists in the male outlook: you take the piss out of the people you like, and you ignore the people you dont.
Accept this as your starting point, and objections become exhausting to sustain: what youre objecting to is an act of affection. Of course, this is what makes it insidious. Because Browns account rests on the intention behind the magazine, and Benwells on the effect it had, they are impossible to reconcile. Its a very difficult thing to resist or challenge without looking like the stereotypical humourless feminist, said Benwell. But by laughing, you become complicit.
Loaded gave this new kind of banter escape velocity, and it began to colonise other worlds. On BBC2, for example, David Baddiel and Frank Skinner were staking out their own territory with Fantasy Football League, a mixture of sketches and celebrity chat that managed to be enthusiastic and satirical at the same time, and reached its peak when the pair became national icons, thanks to their Euro 96 anthem, Three Lions. While a long-running joke about the Nottingham Forest striker Jason Lees pineapple haircut seems flatly racist in retrospect Baddiel did an impression of him in blackface by and large, the tone was milder and more conventional than the magazines were: this was the sensibility of the university graduate slumming it before embarking on grown-up life.
Baddiel implied that laddism could easily occupy a spectrum from ogling to literature, drawing a line to Nick Hornbys memoir of life as an Arsenal fan, Fever Pitch. Hornby once said to me that all this stuff you know, fantasy football and his book is men talking about things that they like and for a while in the mid-80s they werent allowed to, he said in 1995. Ive always liked football and Ive always liked naked women, and its easier to talk about that now than it was eight years ago. Those comments reflect a kind of sneer at its critics that you could often detect in Fantasy Football League, even as its hosts protested that they were just having a laugh though Baddiel himself denies that view. Twenty years on, he, like Brown, is at pains to draw a line between the approach that he and Skinner popularised, and the forms that came later. I guess me and Frank did specialise in banter, he said in an email. In a time before it was known as bantz.
Over the next 10 years, two things happened that ushered in the age of banter. (You might call it mature banter, except that its also the opposite.) First, instead of just being a thing that happened, it became a thing that people talked about. Then, as it became a more tangible cultural product, everyone started trying to make money out of it. The watershed moment, the forms equivalent to Dylan going electric, was the invention of Dave.
Like most good ideas, it looks simple enough in retrospect. Before Dave was Dave, it was UKTV Gold 2. The predecessor channels audience share was 0.761%, and no one could tell who on earth it was supposed to be for. But we had the content, says Steve North, the channels brand manager in 2007 and content of a particular kind that the existing name did very little to communicate: Have I Got News for You, They Think Its All Over, Top Gear. Viewers said they loved the repartee, the humour. It reminded them of spending time with their funniest friends.
The first issue of Loaded magazine, from May 1994
The target audience was highly specific. It was men married or in relationships, maybe with young children, not going to the pub as much as they used to, says Andy Bryant, managing director of Red Bee, the agency brought in to work on the rebrand. And they missed that camaraderie.
Their purpose thus fixed, North started to run brainstorming sessions at which people would shout out suggestions for the name. One of the ones we collected was Dave, he says. We thought, great, but we cant call it that. But then we thought, Its a surrogate friend. If the audience really sees it as that, if they see it as genuinely providing the banter, maybe we can really give it a name.
They put their hunch through its paces. The market research company YouGov was commissioned to test Dave alongside a bunch of other names (Matthew and Kevin were also on the shortlist), but nothing else had the same everyman resonance. For us, Dave is a sensibility, a place, an emotion, a feeling, said North, his tone thoughtful, almost gnomic. Everyone has their own sense of who Dave is, thats the important thing. Its hard to find anyone who doesnt know someone called Dave.
Now the channel had a brand, it needed a slogan. Lots of people claim they played a part in the naming, says Bryant. But it was just as important to encapsulate what the channel was all about. And at some point someone, I dont know who, wrote it on a board: The home of witty banter. The rebrand added 8m new viewers in six months; Dave saw a 71% increase in its target audience of affluent young men.
Conceived by the first generation of senior professionals to have grown up with banter as an unremarkable part of their demographics cultural mix, the channel crystallised a change, and accelerated it. In 2006, The Ricky Gervais Show, in which Gervais and Stephen Merchant relentlessly poked fun at their in-house idiot savant Karl Pilkington, became the most popular podcast of all time. In 2007, the year of Daves rebrand, Top Gears ratings shot from below 5m to a record high of 8m. The following year, QI moved from BBC4 to BBC2. (A tie-in book published the same year, QI: Advanced Banter, sold more than 125,000 copies.)
North saw the kind of fraternal teasing that was being monetised by his channel, and the panel shows that were its lifeblood, as fundamentally benign. The key thing is that its two-way, he said. Its about two people riffing off each other.
But like his 20th-century forebears, he can see that something ugly has evolved, and he wants to keep his brand well away from it. Bants, he said with distaste. That thing of cover for dubious behaviour we hate and despise it massively. When we launched, it was about fun, being light-hearted, maybe pushing each other without being disrespectful. When people talk about Ive had a go at that person, great banter no, thats just nasty.
By the turn of the decade,as other branding agencies mimicked the success of Dave, banter was everywhere, a folk tradition that had acquired a peculiar sort of respectability. The men who celebrated it werent just lads in the pub any more: they had spending power and establishment allies on their side. But they were, by the same token, more visible to critics. Aggression from an underdog can be overlooked; aggression from the establishment is serious enough to become a matter of public concern.
Take Richard Keys and Andy Gray, Sky Sports brand-defining football presenters, who got themselves up to their necks in some extremely bad banter in 2011. Keys blamed dark forces, but everyone else blamed him and Gray for being misogynists. We knew this because there was footage.
The firestorm, as Keys called it, centred on claims that the two men had said and done heinously sexist things off-air. Most memorable, at least for its phrase-making, was the clip in which Keys eagerly asked his fellow pundit Jamie Redknapp if hed smashed it it being a woman and asserted that he could often be found hanging out the back of it.
Gray went quickly. In the days before he followed, Keys burned hot with injustice in a series of mea-sorta-culpas, particularly focused on the tape in which he expressed his derision at the idea that a woman, Sian Massey-Ellis, could be an assistant referee in the Premier League.
It was just banter, he said. Or, more exactly, just a bit of banter, as he said Massey-Ellis had assured him she understood in a later telephone conversation in which, he added, much banter passed between us. She and I enjoyed some banter, he protested. It was lads-mag banter, he insisted. It was stone-age banter, he admitted. We liked to have banter, he explained. Richard Keys was sorry if you were offended, but also, it wasnt his fault if you didnt get it. It was just banter, for goodness sake!
Up to their necks in some extremely bad banter Andy Gray and Richard Keys in 2011. Photograph: Richard Saker/Rex
Keys insistence that his mistake was simply a failure to move with the times was nothing new: banter has always seemed to carry a longing for the past, for an imagined era before male friendship was so cramped by the tiresome obligations of feminist scrutiny. But while his underlying views were painfully dated, his conception of banter was entirely modern: a sly expansion of the words meaning, and a self-conscious contention that it provided an impregnable defence.
The Keys variation understood banter, first, as a catch-all means of denying responsibility if anyone was hurt; and, second, as a means of reinforcing a bond between two people by being cruel about a third. The comparison wouldnt please a couple of alphas like Keys and Gray, but both strategies brought it closer to a style of communication with classically feminine associations: gossip. Deborah Cameron, the Rupert Murdoch (lol) Professor in Language and Communication at Oxford University, argues that the two modes of interaction follow basically the same structure. People gossip as a trust game, she said. You tell someone your unsayable private secret, and it bonds you closer together. Theyre supposed to reciprocate with a confidence of their own. Well, banter works in the same way now. You say something outrageous, and you see if the other person dares to top your remark.
The trust game in banter was traditionally supposed to be: do you trust me when I say were friends in spite of the mean things Im saying about you? But now theres a second version of the game: do I trust you not to tell anyone the mean things Im saying about other people? I think originally it was a harmless thing, said Cameron, whose analysis is rooted in an archive of male group conversation, mostly recorded by her students, that goes back to the 1980s. But then it started to be used as an excuse when men were caught out engaging in forms of it that werent so harmless.
It comes down to context and intent, says the comedian Bridget Christie. The gentler form of banter is still knocking around, she suggested, but now it exists alongside something darker: I found The Inbetweeners adolescent banter hilarious, because it was equal and unthreatening. But there is obviously a world of difference between a group of teenage boys benignly taking the piss out of each other, and a bigot being racist or misogynist and trying to pass it off as a joke.
Trace the rise of banter, and you will find that it corresponds to the rise of political correctness or, anyway, to the backlash against political correctness gone mad. That phrase and just banter mirror each other perfectly: one denoting a priggish culture that is deemed to have overreached, the other a laid-back culture that is deemed to have been unfairly reined in. Ironically enough, just banter does exactly what it accuses political correctness of, seeking to close down discussion by telling you that meaning is settled by category rather than content. Political correctness asserts that a racist joke is primarily racist, whereas banter asserts that a racist joke is primarily a joke. In the past, the men who used it rarely had to define it, or to explain themselves to anybody else. Today, in contrast, it is named all the time. The biggest change isnt the banter itself, says Bethan Benwell. Its the explicit use of the word as a disclaimer.
By sheer repetition and by its use as an unanswerable defence, banter has turned from an abstraction into a vast and calcified description of actions as well as words: gone from a way of talking to a way of life, a style that accidentally became a worldview. He bantered you, people sometimes say: you always used to banter with your mates, but now it often sounds like something you do to them. Once it was directionless, inconclusive chatter with wit as the engine that drove it, said the comedian Russell Kane. Now, if I trip you up, thats banter.
You might think the humiliation suffered by Keys and Gray would have made banter less appealing as a get-out, but not a bit of it. Banter, increasingly, seems like the first refuge of the inexcusable. In 2014, Malky Mackay, who had been fired as manager of Cardiff City Football Club a year earlier, was caught having sent texts that referred to Chinese people eating dogs, black people being criminals, Jewish people being avaricious, and gay people being snakes all of which were initially optimistically defended by the League Managers Association as letting off steam to a friend during some friendly text message banter. The comedian Dapper Laughs, whose real name is Daniel OReilly, established himself as banters rat king, with his very own ITV2 show, and then lost it after he suggested that an audience member at one of his gigs was gagging for a rape. A man was convicted of murder after he crushed his friend against a wall with a Jeep Cherokee after an argument over badger-baiting, a course of action that he said had been intended as banter. Another slashed the throat of someone he had met in a pub and described the incident as a moment of banter after 14 or 15 pints. Both are now in prison.
By any sane measure,banter was falling into disrepute, as often a disguise for malice as a word for the ribaldry of lads on the lash. Still it did not go away: instead, the worst of it has mutated again, asserting its authority in public and saving its creepiest tendencies for the shadows or, at least, for the company of five, or 10, or 20 of your closest mates.
At the London School of Economics, it started with a leaflet. Each year at the universitys freshers fair, LSE Rugby Football Club distributed a banterous primer on rugby culture. In October 2014, says the then-president of the student union, Nona Buckley-Irvine, a student came to her in tears with a copy in her hand. The leaflet talked about trollops, slags, crumpet, mingers, and the desirability of misogyny; there were passing references to the horrors of homosexual humiliation and outright homosexual debauchery. Anyone charmed by all this was invited to sign up for the club and join the banter list, entitling them to participate in the exchange of chappish email conversation.
To anyone with a passing knowledge of university laddism, it was hard to imagine a more ordinary iteration. Still, after the unreconstructed chappishness of the leaflet came to light, the club knew it had a problem. It issued a collective apology acknowledging that we have a lot to learn about the pernicious effects of banter, and promised to organise a workshop. But there was reason to be sceptical about the depth of that commitment.
When Buckley-Irvine and her colleagues published a report on the incident, they noted a string of others, including an antisemitic assault on a university ski trip to Val dIsere in 2011. And there were other indiscretions it didnt mention. According to two people who were present, one club dinner at an Indian restaurant on Brick Lane ended with a stripper having bottles thrown at her when, already intimidated, she refused to take her clothes off. She hid in the toilet, and had to be escorted out by a member of staff as the team vandalised the restaurant.
Photograph: Alamy
According to five people who were either members of the rugby club or closely associated with it, one notorious senior member was widely thought to be responsible for the leaflet. (He did not respond to requests for comment.) But when they came to defend themselves to the student union, members of the club fell back on one of the most revered pillars of laddism: all for one, one for all. Theyd clearly worked out a line, says Nona Buckley-Irvine. No one individual was responsible. They were sorry. It was just banter. Thats what they all said.
The accountancy firm KPMG, which sponsored the universitys wider Athletics Union, decided that banter was not an especially helpful brand association, and withdrew funding worth 22,000. The students union decided to disband the club for the academic year. The decision moved some observers to disgust. It was a gross overreaction, a former team member told me. We were the best-behaved team when it came to actually playing rugby but they banned that bit and they couldnt ban any of the rest.
Others took a less measured tone. I had old members emailing me and calling me a fascist, says Buckley-Irvine. Asking me if I didnt understand that it was just banter. Rugby players chanted abuse at her on nights out, she told me. They shoulder-barged her, and called her a cunt.
These kinds of interactions would tend to take place on Wednesdays, also known as sports night, at a bar in Leicester Square. Sports night was the apotheosis of the rugby clubs bleak solidarity. In deference to what you might call the wingers-before-mingers code, for instance, members of the club who were expected to dress in suits werent allowed to speak to women before 9pm. So they would just shout abuse instead, one female former student, who Ill call Anna, remembered. One chant, she said, went, Nine nos and a yes is a yes. At the time, Anna thought that it was all a joke. People would say, Its just banter all the time. After everything. Absolutely everything, she said, sitting in a cafe in south London. If you were meeting someone new, saying they had good banter, that was a pretty high compliment. Whereas if you dont go along with that stuff, its seen as, you cant take the chat, you cant take the banter. And its not seen as having a stance against it. Its seen as not being able to keep up.
After the rugby club was disbanded, nothing much changed in sports night social life. Many members of the club still went on the same nights out; they just colonised other teams. They still addressed girls as Sarah 2 or Sarah 8 depending on how attractive they considered them out of 10; they still had shouted conversations about their sex lives in front of the women they had slept with but refused to acknowledge.
That culture was not confined to Wednesday nights. Anna remembers a guy who took her picture as she slept, naked, in the bed they were sharing, and circulated it to another non-university sports team via WhatsApp. She wasnt meant to see it on his phone.
Ask anyone well-informed where banter resides now, and theyll give the same answer: WhatsApp groups and email threads, the safe spaces of the lad class. What youd get out of those WhatsApp threads, its another world of drama, one former member of the football club said. The details of girls bodies that youd read, a few funny jibes, that was the limit for me. But when it moved on to, like, really, really bad stuff, always about sex it was too much. Those threads are the source of everything.
If the threads were an outlet, they were by no means the limit. Banter, by common consent, wasnt confined to mocking each other: it was about action. If you dressed up for a night out, one female student remembered, it was just kind of status quo that you could have your arse grabbed. It was just like, Oh, that was kind of weird, but OK, thatll happen. Like everyone else willing to speak about it, her view of that culture was perplexingly nuanced, sometimes contradictory. It sounds scary, she said, but that being said, some of my best nights were there, and like it was fun. But then she said: What was defined as serious just got so pushed. I think for someone to lodge a complaint they would have to be actually hurt.
Anna remembers lots of sketchy incidents. She recalls nights when her choices faded into a blur, and she wondered if she had really been in control. But at the time, I would never call it out, she said. And then, youre all living in halls together, and the next day, its like: What did you do last night? Thats hilarious. Thats banter.
When Anna thinks about the behaviour of some of the men she knew at university, she finds it hard to pin down exactly what she thinks of them. Theres one in particular who sticks in her mind. On a Wednesday night, he was a banter guy, she said. He was a Wednesday animal. But the rest of the time, he was my friend.
Controversial though all this was at the time, no one seems to think that it will have cost the perpetrators much. Ive tried so hard to leave all that behind, said the former member of the football team. But those guys theyre all going on to run banks, or the country, or whatever. The senior rugby man who many held responsible, by the way, has landed on his feet. Today, he has a job at KPMG.
In 2017, every new instance of banter is immediately spotted and put through the journalistic wringer. (Vices Joel Golby, who wrote the definitive text on the bagel thing, has made a career from his exquisite close readings of the form.) But when each new absolute legend emerges, we dont usually have the context to make the essential judgment: do the proponents tend towards the harmless warmth of Ellis and his mates, or the frank hostility of the LSE rugby boys? Is their love of irony straightforward, or a mask for something else?
As Richard Keys and Dapper Laughs and their cohorts have polluted the idea of banter, the commercial entities that endorsed its rise have become uneasy with the label. They wanted it to go viral; they hadnt expected it to go postal. Dave, for example, has dropped the home of witty banter slogan. Its not about classic male humour any more, its a little bit smarter, says UKTVs Steve North. We definitely say it less than we used to.
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from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/02/the-age-of-banter/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/163730951422
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samanthasroberts · 7 years ago
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The age of banter
The long read: It used to be just a word now it is a way of life. But is it time to get off the banter bus?
Its the most fucking ridiculous story, isnt it? We went to watch fucking dolphins, and we ended up in fucking Syria. Last summer in the Mediterranean party resort of Ayia Napa, Lewis Ellis was working as a club rep. I mean, it was fucking 8am, he told an Australian website soon afterwards, and the last fucking club had closed, and we thought, We can still go dolphin watching. Well blag our way on to a fucking boat and go dolphin watching.
But when the boat sailed so far that Cyprus disappeared from view, Ellis explained, they started to worry. Why are we so far from land? they asked the crew. Were fucking miles away and weve got no fucking wifi. Something, Ellis said, had been lost in translation; his exuberant season as a shepherd for the resorts party pilgrims had gone terribly awry. The crew wasnt taking them to watch dolphins: they were going to a Russian naval base in the city of Tartus, on Syrias Mediterranean coast. Yeah, it is a little ridiculous.
It was, nonetheless, a story that had legs. Hungover lads boat trip boob lands them in Syria, wahey-ed the Mirror; British holidaymakers board party boat in Ayia Napa and end up in war-torn SYRIA, guffawed the Express. If you saw these headlines at the time, you may dimly remember the rest. A stubborn trawler captain, chugging doggedly onwards to Tartus, where he turfed the friends out upon landing; interrogation at the hands of Russian intelligence officers; mutual hilarity as the Russians realised what had happened; and, after a hot meal, a quick tour of the area, and a good nights sleep, spots on the next fishing vessel headed back to Cyprus. It was never made clear why the captain had let them on the boat in the first place, but whatever. Everyone lapped it up.
Reflecting on the whole thing five months later, Ellis, a 26-year-old with a business degree and a marketing masters, couldnt totally wrap his head around it. I think I found 35 stories about us, he told me. I read about myself in the Hawaiian Express, do you know what I mean? (Notwithstanding that there doesnt appear to be any such newspaper, yes, I definitely do.)
What made it really weird to see the media pile in with such unstinting enthusiasm was that the story was total cobblers. I could not believe how gullible they were, Ellis said, a top note of glee still in his voice. We were just having a laugh! It was banter!
Lads: this is the age of banter. Its long been somewhat about the banter, but over the last few years, it has come to seem that its all about the banter an unabashedly bumptious attitude that took up a position on the outskirts of the culture in the early 90s and has been larging its way towards the centre ever since. There are hundreds of banter groups on Facebook, from Banter Britain (no memes insinuating child abuse/dead babies!!!) to Wanker Banter 18+ (Have a laugh and keep it sick) to the Premier League Banter Page (The only rule: keep it banter). You can buy an I banter mug on Amazon for 9, or an Archbishop of Banterbury T-shirt for 9.99.
There are now four branches of a restaurant called Scoff & Banter. When things were going badly at Chelsea FC under Jos Mourinho, it was reported the team had banned all banter in an attempt to focus their minds, and that terminology appeared in the newspapers, as if you would know exactly what it meant. Someone has created a banter map of London using a keyword search on the flatshare website SpareRoom, showing exactly where people are looking for a roommate with good banter (Clapham tends to feature prominently). When a 26-year-old man from Leeds posed for a selfie with a bemused aeroplane hijacker, Vice declared it the high-water mark of banter.
Lewis Ellis (left) and friends in Ayia Napa, pretending to be in Syria. Photograph: Lewis Ellis
If you are younger than about 35, you are likely to hear the term all the time. Either you have banter (if you are funny and can take a joke) or you dont (if you arent and cannot). The mainstream, in summary, is now drunk and asleep on the sofa, and banter is delightedly drawing a penis on its forehead.
As banter has risen, it has expanded. Long a word used to describe submerged expressions of fraternal love, it is now also a word used to excuse uninhibited displays of masculine bravado. Today, it is segregated by class, seized on by brands, picked over by psychologists, and deplored by cultural critics; it is dominant, hotly contested and only hazily understood.
And so, whether he intends it to or not, Ellis use of the term raises some questions. Is he throwing his lot in with the most pervasive branch of the blokeish mainstream, a sanitised and benevolent hilarity that stretches from lad-dad panel shows to your mates zinger about your terrible haircut? Or is he lining up with the misogynist imitators of the Bullingdon club, a sprinkling of racists, and, as we shall see, an actual murderer purveyors of a malicious and insidious masculinity that insists on its indivisible authority and calls you a slut if you object?
Ellis isnt preoccupied by these questions, but for what its worth, he does say that he and his friends never had the slightest intention of going to Syria. We werent really trying to fool anyone, he told me, although Im not sure thats entirely consistent with the facts. We were out for a stroll, and we came across this area that looked really run down, we thought it looked like Syria. So we put it on the club reps [Facebook] page that thats where we were. And everyone started liking it. And then one of the people who contacted us was from LADBible which is like the Bible, but for LADS so we said, well have a mess around here. Well tell a completely ridiculous story, see if the media believes it. See if we can become LADBible famous.
It did, they could. Eventually, the truth came out, not thanks to any especially determined investigative journalism, but because Ellis cheerily admitted on Facebook that his tale of magnificent idiocy was a fiction. Hahaha what a prank, he wrote, with some justification.
The confession only brought another cycle of attention. Publications that had picked up the story in the first place resurfaced it with new headlines to reflect the audacity of the invention; social media users adduced it as evidence for their views of young men, or the media, or both. The Russian embassys Twitter account called it a telling example of how many Syria (and Russia) stories are made up by UK papers, which was great geopolitical banter. The attention entertained Ellis, but he says it wasnt the point. We just thought it was funny, he said. People are too serious. I keep being told to grow up, but I still want to have a good time. Ive had the jobs, Ive got the education. But when Im off work, I want to escape.
Ellis is an enthusiast and an optimist. He is, he told me late last year, desperate to take every opportunity, just to say yes to everything I can. We were on a night out in Manchester with his friends Tyson, John and Chris. In the course of the evening, the following things found their way into my beer: fingers; salt; vinegar; mayonnaise; a chip; saliva; a 10 note; and, I hazily remember being told after the fact, at least two shots of vodka.
Everyones got a thing in the group, Ellis said, as we walked from one bar to the next. One guy, hes not even that ugly, we say he looks like a Peperami. Tysons got this mole on his face, its like a Coco Pop, so youve got a Coco Pop on your face. I looked like Harry Potter when I was a kid, so they call me Potter, thats my nickname. Every single one of us has something. So you youve got Chinese eyes. Youre Chinese.
For the record, I didnt think this was OK, but coming after such a harmless litany, it didnt seem malicious enough to confront. Of course, tacit endorsement is what makes such offensive epithets a commonplace, and so it troubles me that it made me feel mysteriously welcome, just as it had when John punched me lightly in the balls when I arrived. There was no doubting Elliss sincerity: as he spoke, the sheer daft beauty of male friendship seemed to amaze him, almost to the point of physical pain. We just take the piss out of each other, and thats how we show our love, he said. So many group chats on the phone, and you just take the piss until they cry. And its like, when youre really killing them, you go, Ill stop if you want, because you know they cant say yes, so you just keep going. Then we arrived at the next bar, where I was made to drink something called a Zombie.
Early in the evening, before any of this had undermined my ability to take useful notes, Ellis broke off from talking as we walked down the street and sidled into a window display at Next Home, where he Tracey Emined a carefully made bed by climbing into it and rolling around. Everyone cracked up. Give the world a laugh, Ellis tends to think, and the world will smile back at you. Jump on a boat, and youll end up somewhere great; make the boat up, and youll get there faster. Its all about having fun, its all about the banter, he said, after hed rejoined us outside. Banter is about making the world a more exciting place.
If nobody can agree on what banter is, thats hardly a new problem. The first usage of the word recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary comes from noted Restoration lad Thomas dUrfey, also known for his hit song The Fart, in a satirical 1677 play called Madam Fickle. Banter him, banter him, Toby, a character called Zechiel urges, which may be the first time that someone called Toby was so instructed, but certainly wasnt the last.
The OED also notes early attempts at a definition by Jonathan Swift and Samuel Johnson. (Swift mentions a banter upon transubstantiation, in which a cork is turned into a horse, and fair enough, turning a cork into a horse would be classic banter.) Both are a little disgusted by the word, and neither unearths much of an origin story: by their accounts, banter is so coarse that it emerged, fully formed and without antecedent, out of the mouths of oafs.
As it turns out, though, the OED is not at present fully able to handle the banter. According to Eleanor Maier, an associate editor on the dictionary, a search of earlier English texts reveals that a number of previous examples are missing from the dictionarys definition, which was first drafted in 1885 including a quote from a 1657 translation of Don Quixote. (After examining the history, Maier told me that she would be adding banter to the list of entries that are up for review.)
dougie stew (@DougieStew)
Welcome to London #BagelGate pic.twitter.com/KcJoz0ycZU
February 26, 2017
In recent years, banter has barged into our lives at a remarkable clip. Googles Ngram Viewer, a tool that assesses (with some limitations) the frequency with which a term appears in a large database of written sources, finds that banter popped up about twice as often in 2008, the most recent year covered, as it did in 1980.
But banter plugged away for a long time before it became an overnight success. In the 19th century, it often denoted a kind of formal sparring. Even as the term evolved over the 20th, it continued to seem a little prim. In the House of Commons in 1936, Ramsay MacDonald, the former Labour prime minister who had returned in a new seat after losing his old one, was subjected to a good deal of banter Dear old Granny MacDonald!, among other witticisms.In 1981, a Guardian report that chess champion Anatoly Karpov and his handlers had successfully protested at his challenger Viktor Korchnois constant cross-board talk ran under the unlikely headline: Chess banter banned.
Such stories do little to prepare us for what banter has become. Consider the viral video that became known as #bagelgate earlier this year. In the recording, a minor scuffle broke out on the 00.54 train from Kings Cross to Huntingdon, and then for no obviously related reason a woman who had a large bag of bagels decided to put one on the head of the guy sitting in front of her, and then another after he took it off and threw it out of the window, and another and another, and then everyone in the carriage started chanting hes got a bagel on his head, and eventually the slightly spoddy victim who is me when I was 13 and someone filled my pencil case with Mr Kipling apple pies (squashed, oozing) because I was fat lost it and screamed Get the fuck out of my face!, and then another fight broke out on the platform, and then the police got on to the train, and every single person fell into not-me-guv silence: this is not Granny MacDonalds banter any more.
If it is hard to understand how these activities can fall under the same umbrella, it should be noted that a phenomenon may predate our choice of term to describe it its just that the act of definition makes it more visible, and perhaps more likely to be imitated. At some point, though, banter became the name for what British men already regarded as their natural tone of voice. There is a very deeply embedded folk culture in the UK of public ribaldry, extreme sarcasm, facetiousness in other words, of laddishness, says Tony Thorne, a linguist and cultural historian. What you might think of as banter now is rooted in that tradition.
That tradition first lashed itself to banters mast in the early 1990s, and controversy soon followed. In June 1992, a Guardian story headlined Police fire sex banter officer, about the dismissal of a sergeant for sexual harassment, recorded an early skirmish in the modern banter wars, and an important new layer to its meaning in the wild: The move is seen as part of the Metropolitan polices desire to reassure women officers that what has previously been tolerated as banter is no longer acceptable. Two years later, the lads mags arrived.
The first edition of Loaded magazine appeared in May 1994, with a picture of Gary Oldman on the front smoking a dog-end, under a banner that declared him a super lad. What fresh lunacy is this? the editors note read. Loaded is a new magazine dedicated to life, liberty and the pursuit of sex, drink, football and less serious matters Loaded is for the man who believes he can do anything, if only he wasnt hungover.
If banter dismays you, James Brown, the magazines first editor, is quite an easy bogeyman. As he acknowledges himself, he created a title that defined a genre. Loaded was swiftly recognised as a foundational text for a resurgent and ebullient masculinity that had been searching for public expression. While it was always overtly horny, the magazine was initially more interested in a forlorn, slackjawed and self-ironising appreciation of A-listers (one reversible poster had Cindy Crawford on one side and a steam train on the other) than the grot-plus-football formula that successors and imitators like Maxim, Zoo and Nuts milked to destruction. But it also flirted with something murkier.
To its critics, Loaded and its imitators aimed to sanitise a certain hooliganistic worldview with a strategic disclaimer. Banter emerges as this relentless gloss of irony over everything, said Bethan Benwell, senior lecturer in language and linguistics at the University of Stirling and the author of several papers on mens magazines. The constant excusing of sexist or homophobic sentiments with this wink that says you dont really mean it. Benwell pointed to Loadeds emblematic strapline: For men who should know better.
Brown denies that his magazine invented banter. Instead, he says, it captured a zeitgeist that the media had previously failed to acknowledge; the folk culture that Tony Thorne refers to, brought out into the open. Before Browns intervention, GQ had run John Major and Michael Heseltine as cover stars, for Gods sake. I took the interests and the outlook of the young men that I knew, and I put them in a magazine, Brown said. Im not responsible for the tone of the later entrants to the market. We were criticised because we fancied women, not because we belittled them.
The thing about Loaded was that the way we wrote reflected the way we were with our mates, he went on. Theres definitely a thing that exists in the male outlook: you take the piss out of the people you like, and you ignore the people you dont.
Accept this as your starting point, and objections become exhausting to sustain: what youre objecting to is an act of affection. Of course, this is what makes it insidious. Because Browns account rests on the intention behind the magazine, and Benwells on the effect it had, they are impossible to reconcile. Its a very difficult thing to resist or challenge without looking like the stereotypical humourless feminist, said Benwell. But by laughing, you become complicit.
Loaded gave this new kind of banter escape velocity, and it began to colonise other worlds. On BBC2, for example, David Baddiel and Frank Skinner were staking out their own territory with Fantasy Football League, a mixture of sketches and celebrity chat that managed to be enthusiastic and satirical at the same time, and reached its peak when the pair became national icons, thanks to their Euro 96 anthem, Three Lions. While a long-running joke about the Nottingham Forest striker Jason Lees pineapple haircut seems flatly racist in retrospect Baddiel did an impression of him in blackface by and large, the tone was milder and more conventional than the magazines were: this was the sensibility of the university graduate slumming it before embarking on grown-up life.
Baddiel implied that laddism could easily occupy a spectrum from ogling to literature, drawing a line to Nick Hornbys memoir of life as an Arsenal fan, Fever Pitch. Hornby once said to me that all this stuff you know, fantasy football and his book is men talking about things that they like and for a while in the mid-80s they werent allowed to, he said in 1995. Ive always liked football and Ive always liked naked women, and its easier to talk about that now than it was eight years ago. Those comments reflect a kind of sneer at its critics that you could often detect in Fantasy Football League, even as its hosts protested that they were just having a laugh though Baddiel himself denies that view. Twenty years on, he, like Brown, is at pains to draw a line between the approach that he and Skinner popularised, and the forms that came later. I guess me and Frank did specialise in banter, he said in an email. In a time before it was known as bantz.
Over the next 10 years, two things happened that ushered in the age of banter. (You might call it mature banter, except that its also the opposite.) First, instead of just being a thing that happened, it became a thing that people talked about. Then, as it became a more tangible cultural product, everyone started trying to make money out of it. The watershed moment, the forms equivalent to Dylan going electric, was the invention of Dave.
Like most good ideas, it looks simple enough in retrospect. Before Dave was Dave, it was UKTV Gold 2. The predecessor channels audience share was 0.761%, and no one could tell who on earth it was supposed to be for. But we had the content, says Steve North, the channels brand manager in 2007 and content of a particular kind that the existing name did very little to communicate: Have I Got News for You, They Think Its All Over, Top Gear. Viewers said they loved the repartee, the humour. It reminded them of spending time with their funniest friends.
The first issue of Loaded magazine, from May 1994
The target audience was highly specific. It was men married or in relationships, maybe with young children, not going to the pub as much as they used to, says Andy Bryant, managing director of Red Bee, the agency brought in to work on the rebrand. And they missed that camaraderie.
Their purpose thus fixed, North started to run brainstorming sessions at which people would shout out suggestions for the name. One of the ones we collected was Dave, he says. We thought, great, but we cant call it that. But then we thought, Its a surrogate friend. If the audience really sees it as that, if they see it as genuinely providing the banter, maybe we can really give it a name.
They put their hunch through its paces. The market research company YouGov was commissioned to test Dave alongside a bunch of other names (Matthew and Kevin were also on the shortlist), but nothing else had the same everyman resonance. For us, Dave is a sensibility, a place, an emotion, a feeling, said North, his tone thoughtful, almost gnomic. Everyone has their own sense of who Dave is, thats the important thing. Its hard to find anyone who doesnt know someone called Dave.
Now the channel had a brand, it needed a slogan. Lots of people claim they played a part in the naming, says Bryant. But it was just as important to encapsulate what the channel was all about. And at some point someone, I dont know who, wrote it on a board: The home of witty banter. The rebrand added 8m new viewers in six months; Dave saw a 71% increase in its target audience of affluent young men.
Conceived by the first generation of senior professionals to have grown up with banter as an unremarkable part of their demographics cultural mix, the channel crystallised a change, and accelerated it. In 2006, The Ricky Gervais Show, in which Gervais and Stephen Merchant relentlessly poked fun at their in-house idiot savant Karl Pilkington, became the most popular podcast of all time. In 2007, the year of Daves rebrand, Top Gears ratings shot from below 5m to a record high of 8m. The following year, QI moved from BBC4 to BBC2. (A tie-in book published the same year, QI: Advanced Banter, sold more than 125,000 copies.)
North saw the kind of fraternal teasing that was being monetised by his channel, and the panel shows that were its lifeblood, as fundamentally benign. The key thing is that its two-way, he said. Its about two people riffing off each other.
But like his 20th-century forebears, he can see that something ugly has evolved, and he wants to keep his brand well away from it. Bants, he said with distaste. That thing of cover for dubious behaviour we hate and despise it massively. When we launched, it was about fun, being light-hearted, maybe pushing each other without being disrespectful. When people talk about Ive had a go at that person, great banter no, thats just nasty.
By the turn of the decade,as other branding agencies mimicked the success of Dave, banter was everywhere, a folk tradition that had acquired a peculiar sort of respectability. The men who celebrated it werent just lads in the pub any more: they had spending power and establishment allies on their side. But they were, by the same token, more visible to critics. Aggression from an underdog can be overlooked; aggression from the establishment is serious enough to become a matter of public concern.
Take Richard Keys and Andy Gray, Sky Sports brand-defining football presenters, who got themselves up to their necks in some extremely bad banter in 2011. Keys blamed dark forces, but everyone else blamed him and Gray for being misogynists. We knew this because there was footage.
The firestorm, as Keys called it, centred on claims that the two men had said and done heinously sexist things off-air. Most memorable, at least for its phrase-making, was the clip in which Keys eagerly asked his fellow pundit Jamie Redknapp if hed smashed it it being a woman and asserted that he could often be found hanging out the back of it.
Gray went quickly. In the days before he followed, Keys burned hot with injustice in a series of mea-sorta-culpas, particularly focused on the tape in which he expressed his derision at the idea that a woman, Sian Massey-Ellis, could be an assistant referee in the Premier League.
It was just banter, he said. Or, more exactly, just a bit of banter, as he said Massey-Ellis had assured him she understood in a later telephone conversation in which, he added, much banter passed between us. She and I enjoyed some banter, he protested. It was lads-mag banter, he insisted. It was stone-age banter, he admitted. We liked to have banter, he explained. Richard Keys was sorry if you were offended, but also, it wasnt his fault if you didnt get it. It was just banter, for goodness sake!
Up to their necks in some extremely bad banter Andy Gray and Richard Keys in 2011. Photograph: Richard Saker/Rex
Keys insistence that his mistake was simply a failure to move with the times was nothing new: banter has always seemed to carry a longing for the past, for an imagined era before male friendship was so cramped by the tiresome obligations of feminist scrutiny. But while his underlying views were painfully dated, his conception of banter was entirely modern: a sly expansion of the words meaning, and a self-conscious contention that it provided an impregnable defence.
The Keys variation understood banter, first, as a catch-all means of denying responsibility if anyone was hurt; and, second, as a means of reinforcing a bond between two people by being cruel about a third. The comparison wouldnt please a couple of alphas like Keys and Gray, but both strategies brought it closer to a style of communication with classically feminine associations: gossip. Deborah Cameron, the Rupert Murdoch (lol) Professor in Language and Communication at Oxford University, argues that the two modes of interaction follow basically the same structure. People gossip as a trust game, she said. You tell someone your unsayable private secret, and it bonds you closer together. Theyre supposed to reciprocate with a confidence of their own. Well, banter works in the same way now. You say something outrageous, and you see if the other person dares to top your remark.
The trust game in banter was traditionally supposed to be: do you trust me when I say were friends in spite of the mean things Im saying about you? But now theres a second version of the game: do I trust you not to tell anyone the mean things Im saying about other people? I think originally it was a harmless thing, said Cameron, whose analysis is rooted in an archive of male group conversation, mostly recorded by her students, that goes back to the 1980s. But then it started to be used as an excuse when men were caught out engaging in forms of it that werent so harmless.
It comes down to context and intent, says the comedian Bridget Christie. The gentler form of banter is still knocking around, she suggested, but now it exists alongside something darker: I found The Inbetweeners adolescent banter hilarious, because it was equal and unthreatening. But there is obviously a world of difference between a group of teenage boys benignly taking the piss out of each other, and a bigot being racist or misogynist and trying to pass it off as a joke.
Trace the rise of banter, and you will find that it corresponds to the rise of political correctness or, anyway, to the backlash against political correctness gone mad. That phrase and just banter mirror each other perfectly: one denoting a priggish culture that is deemed to have overreached, the other a laid-back culture that is deemed to have been unfairly reined in. Ironically enough, just banter does exactly what it accuses political correctness of, seeking to close down discussion by telling you that meaning is settled by category rather than content. Political correctness asserts that a racist joke is primarily racist, whereas banter asserts that a racist joke is primarily a joke. In the past, the men who used it rarely had to define it, or to explain themselves to anybody else. Today, in contrast, it is named all the time. The biggest change isnt the banter itself, says Bethan Benwell. Its the explicit use of the word as a disclaimer.
By sheer repetition and by its use as an unanswerable defence, banter has turned from an abstraction into a vast and calcified description of actions as well as words: gone from a way of talking to a way of life, a style that accidentally became a worldview. He bantered you, people sometimes say: you always used to banter with your mates, but now it often sounds like something you do to them. Once it was directionless, inconclusive chatter with wit as the engine that drove it, said the comedian Russell Kane. Now, if I trip you up, thats banter.
You might think the humiliation suffered by Keys and Gray would have made banter less appealing as a get-out, but not a bit of it. Banter, increasingly, seems like the first refuge of the inexcusable. In 2014, Malky Mackay, who had been fired as manager of Cardiff City Football Club a year earlier, was caught having sent texts that referred to Chinese people eating dogs, black people being criminals, Jewish people being avaricious, and gay people being snakes all of which were initially optimistically defended by the League Managers Association as letting off steam to a friend during some friendly text message banter. The comedian Dapper Laughs, whose real name is Daniel OReilly, established himself as banters rat king, with his very own ITV2 show, and then lost it after he suggested that an audience member at one of his gigs was gagging for a rape. A man was convicted of murder after he crushed his friend against a wall with a Jeep Cherokee after an argument over badger-baiting, a course of action that he said had been intended as banter. Another slashed the throat of someone he had met in a pub and described the incident as a moment of banter after 14 or 15 pints. Both are now in prison.
By any sane measure,banter was falling into disrepute, as often a disguise for malice as a word for the ribaldry of lads on the lash. Still it did not go away: instead, the worst of it has mutated again, asserting its authority in public and saving its creepiest tendencies for the shadows or, at least, for the company of five, or 10, or 20 of your closest mates.
At the London School of Economics, it started with a leaflet. Each year at the universitys freshers fair, LSE Rugby Football Club distributed a banterous primer on rugby culture. In October 2014, says the then-president of the student union, Nona Buckley-Irvine, a student came to her in tears with a copy in her hand. The leaflet talked about trollops, slags, crumpet, mingers, and the desirability of misogyny; there were passing references to the horrors of homosexual humiliation and outright homosexual debauchery. Anyone charmed by all this was invited to sign up for the club and join the banter list, entitling them to participate in the exchange of chappish email conversation.
To anyone with a passing knowledge of university laddism, it was hard to imagine a more ordinary iteration. Still, after the unreconstructed chappishness of the leaflet came to light, the club knew it had a problem. It issued a collective apology acknowledging that we have a lot to learn about the pernicious effects of banter, and promised to organise a workshop. But there was reason to be sceptical about the depth of that commitment.
When Buckley-Irvine and her colleagues published a report on the incident, they noted a string of others, including an antisemitic assault on a university ski trip to Val dIsere in 2011. And there were other indiscretions it didnt mention. According to two people who were present, one club dinner at an Indian restaurant on Brick Lane ended with a stripper having bottles thrown at her when, already intimidated, she refused to take her clothes off. She hid in the toilet, and had to be escorted out by a member of staff as the team vandalised the restaurant.
Photograph: Alamy
According to five people who were either members of the rugby club or closely associated with it, one notorious senior member was widely thought to be responsible for the leaflet. (He did not respond to requests for comment.) But when they came to defend themselves to the student union, members of the club fell back on one of the most revered pillars of laddism: all for one, one for all. Theyd clearly worked out a line, says Nona Buckley-Irvine. No one individual was responsible. They were sorry. It was just banter. Thats what they all said.
The accountancy firm KPMG, which sponsored the universitys wider Athletics Union, decided that banter was not an especially helpful brand association, and withdrew funding worth 22,000. The students union decided to disband the club for the academic year. The decision moved some observers to disgust. It was a gross overreaction, a former team member told me. We were the best-behaved team when it came to actually playing rugby but they banned that bit and they couldnt ban any of the rest.
Others took a less measured tone. I had old members emailing me and calling me a fascist, says Buckley-Irvine. Asking me if I didnt understand that it was just banter. Rugby players chanted abuse at her on nights out, she told me. They shoulder-barged her, and called her a cunt.
These kinds of interactions would tend to take place on Wednesdays, also known as sports night, at a bar in Leicester Square. Sports night was the apotheosis of the rugby clubs bleak solidarity. In deference to what you might call the wingers-before-mingers code, for instance, members of the club who were expected to dress in suits werent allowed to speak to women before 9pm. So they would just shout abuse instead, one female former student, who Ill call Anna, remembered. One chant, she said, went, Nine nos and a yes is a yes. At the time, Anna thought that it was all a joke. People would say, Its just banter all the time. After everything. Absolutely everything, she said, sitting in a cafe in south London. If you were meeting someone new, saying they had good banter, that was a pretty high compliment. Whereas if you dont go along with that stuff, its seen as, you cant take the chat, you cant take the banter. And its not seen as having a stance against it. Its seen as not being able to keep up.
After the rugby club was disbanded, nothing much changed in sports night social life. Many members of the club still went on the same nights out; they just colonised other teams. They still addressed girls as Sarah 2 or Sarah 8 depending on how attractive they considered them out of 10; they still had shouted conversations about their sex lives in front of the women they had slept with but refused to acknowledge.
That culture was not confined to Wednesday nights. Anna remembers a guy who took her picture as she slept, naked, in the bed they were sharing, and circulated it to another non-university sports team via WhatsApp. She wasnt meant to see it on his phone.
Ask anyone well-informed where banter resides now, and theyll give the same answer: WhatsApp groups and email threads, the safe spaces of the lad class. What youd get out of those WhatsApp threads, its another world of drama, one former member of the football club said. The details of girls bodies that youd read, a few funny jibes, that was the limit for me. But when it moved on to, like, really, really bad stuff, always about sex it was too much. Those threads are the source of everything.
If the threads were an outlet, they were by no means the limit. Banter, by common consent, wasnt confined to mocking each other: it was about action. If you dressed up for a night out, one female student remembered, it was just kind of status quo that you could have your arse grabbed. It was just like, Oh, that was kind of weird, but OK, thatll happen. Like everyone else willing to speak about it, her view of that culture was perplexingly nuanced, sometimes contradictory. It sounds scary, she said, but that being said, some of my best nights were there, and like it was fun. But then she said: What was defined as serious just got so pushed. I think for someone to lodge a complaint they would have to be actually hurt.
Anna remembers lots of sketchy incidents. She recalls nights when her choices faded into a blur, and she wondered if she had really been in control. But at the time, I would never call it out, she said. And then, youre all living in halls together, and the next day, its like: What did you do last night? Thats hilarious. Thats banter.
When Anna thinks about the behaviour of some of the men she knew at university, she finds it hard to pin down exactly what she thinks of them. Theres one in particular who sticks in her mind. On a Wednesday night, he was a banter guy, she said. He was a Wednesday animal. But the rest of the time, he was my friend.
Controversial though all this was at the time, no one seems to think that it will have cost the perpetrators much. Ive tried so hard to leave all that behind, said the former member of the football team. But those guys theyre all going on to run banks, or the country, or whatever. The senior rugby man who many held responsible, by the way, has landed on his feet. Today, he has a job at KPMG.
In 2017, every new instance of banter is immediately spotted and put through the journalistic wringer. (Vices Joel Golby, who wrote the definitive text on the bagel thing, has made a career from his exquisite close readings of the form.) But when each new absolute legend emerges, we dont usually have the context to make the essential judgment: do the proponents tend towards the harmless warmth of Ellis and his mates, or the frank hostility of the LSE rugby boys? Is their love of irony straightforward, or a mask for something else?
As Richard Keys and Dapper Laughs and their cohorts have polluted the idea of banter, the commercial entities that endorsed its rise have become uneasy with the label. They wanted it to go viral; they hadnt expected it to go postal. Dave, for example, has dropped the home of witty banter slogan. Its not about classic male humour any more, its a little bit smarter, says UKTVs Steve North. We definitely say it less than we used to.
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allofbeercom · 7 years ago
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The age of banter
The long read: It used to be just a word now it is a way of life. But is it time to get off the banter bus?
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Its the most fucking ridiculous story, isnt it? We went to watch fucking dolphins, and we ended up in fucking Syria. Last summer in the Mediterranean party resort of Ayia Napa, Lewis Ellis was working as a club rep. I mean, it was fucking 8am, he told an Australian website soon afterwards, and the last fucking club had closed, and we thought, We can still go dolphin watching. Well blag our way on to a fucking boat and go dolphin watching.
But when the boat sailed so far that Cyprus disappeared from view, Ellis explained, they started to worry. Why are we so far from land? they asked the crew. Were fucking miles away and weve got no fucking wifi. Something, Ellis said, had been lost in translation; his exuberant season as a shepherd for the resorts party pilgrims had gone terribly awry. The crew wasnt taking them to watch dolphins: they were going to a Russian naval base in the city of Tartus, on Syrias Mediterranean coast. Yeah, it is a little ridiculous.
It was, nonetheless, a story that had legs. Hungover lads boat trip boob lands them in Syria, wahey-ed the Mirror; British holidaymakers board party boat in Ayia Napa and end up in war-torn SYRIA, guffawed the Express. If you saw these headlines at the time, you may dimly remember the rest. A stubborn trawler captain, chugging doggedly onwards to Tartus, where he turfed the friends out upon landing; interrogation at the hands of Russian intelligence officers; mutual hilarity as the Russians realised what had happened; and, after a hot meal, a quick tour of the area, and a good nights sleep, spots on the next fishing vessel headed back to Cyprus. It was never made clear why the captain had let them on the boat in the first place, but whatever. Everyone lapped it up.
Reflecting on the whole thing five months later, Ellis, a 26-year-old with a business degree and a marketing masters, couldnt totally wrap his head around it. I think I found 35 stories about us, he told me. I read about myself in the Hawaiian Express, do you know what I mean? (Notwithstanding that there doesnt appear to be any such newspaper, yes, I definitely do.)
What made it really weird to see the media pile in with such unstinting enthusiasm was that the story was total cobblers. I could not believe how gullible they were, Ellis said, a top note of glee still in his voice. We were just having a laugh! It was banter!
Lads: this is the age of banter. Its long been somewhat about the banter, but over the last few years, it has come to seem that its all about the banter an unabashedly bumptious attitude that took up a position on the outskirts of the culture in the early 90s and has been larging its way towards the centre ever since. There are hundreds of banter groups on Facebook, from Banter Britain (no memes insinuating child abuse/dead babies!!!) to Wanker Banter 18+ (Have a laugh and keep it sick) to the Premier League Banter Page (The only rule: keep it banter). You can buy an I banter mug on Amazon for 9, or an Archbishop of Banterbury T-shirt for 9.99.
There are now four branches of a restaurant called Scoff & Banter. When things were going badly at Chelsea FC under Jos Mourinho, it was reported the team had banned all banter in an attempt to focus their minds, and that terminology appeared in the newspapers, as if you would know exactly what it meant. Someone has created a banter map of London using a keyword search on the flatshare website SpareRoom, showing exactly where people are looking for a roommate with good banter (Clapham tends to feature prominently). When a 26-year-old man from Leeds posed for a selfie with a bemused aeroplane hijacker, Vice declared it the high-water mark of banter.
Lewis Ellis (left) and friends in Ayia Napa, pretending to be in Syria. Photograph: Lewis Ellis
If you are younger than about 35, you are likely to hear the term all the time. Either you have banter (if you are funny and can take a joke) or you dont (if you arent and cannot). The mainstream, in summary, is now drunk and asleep on the sofa, and banter is delightedly drawing a penis on its forehead.
As banter has risen, it has expanded. Long a word used to describe submerged expressions of fraternal love, it is now also a word used to excuse uninhibited displays of masculine bravado. Today, it is segregated by class, seized on by brands, picked over by psychologists, and deplored by cultural critics; it is dominant, hotly contested and only hazily understood.
And so, whether he intends it to or not, Ellis use of the term raises some questions. Is he throwing his lot in with the most pervasive branch of the blokeish mainstream, a sanitised and benevolent hilarity that stretches from lad-dad panel shows to your mates zinger about your terrible haircut? Or is he lining up with the misogynist imitators of the Bullingdon club, a sprinkling of racists, and, as we shall see, an actual murderer purveyors of a malicious and insidious masculinity that insists on its indivisible authority and calls you a slut if you object?
Ellis isnt preoccupied by these questions, but for what its worth, he does say that he and his friends never had the slightest intention of going to Syria. We werent really trying to fool anyone, he told me, although Im not sure thats entirely consistent with the facts. We were out for a stroll, and we came across this area that looked really run down, we thought it looked like Syria. So we put it on the club reps [Facebook] page that thats where we were. And everyone started liking it. And then one of the people who contacted us was from LADBible which is like the Bible, but for LADS so we said, well have a mess around here. Well tell a completely ridiculous story, see if the media believes it. See if we can become LADBible famous.
It did, they could. Eventually, the truth came out, not thanks to any especially determined investigative journalism, but because Ellis cheerily admitted on Facebook that his tale of magnificent idiocy was a fiction. Hahaha what a prank, he wrote, with some justification.
The confession only brought another cycle of attention. Publications that had picked up the story in the first place resurfaced it with new headlines to reflect the audacity of the invention; social media users adduced it as evidence for their views of young men, or the media, or both. The Russian embassys Twitter account called it a telling example of how many Syria (and Russia) stories are made up by UK papers, which was great geopolitical banter. The attention entertained Ellis, but he says it wasnt the point. We just thought it was funny, he said. People are too serious. I keep being told to grow up, but I still want to have a good time. Ive had the jobs, Ive got the education. But when Im off work, I want to escape.
Ellis is an enthusiast and an optimist. He is, he told me late last year, desperate to take every opportunity, just to say yes to everything I can. We were on a night out in Manchester with his friends Tyson, John and Chris. In the course of the evening, the following things found their way into my beer: fingers; salt; vinegar; mayonnaise; a chip; saliva; a 10 note; and, I hazily remember being told after the fact, at least two shots of vodka.
Everyones got a thing in the group, Ellis said, as we walked from one bar to the next. One guy, hes not even that ugly, we say he looks like a Peperami. Tysons got this mole on his face, its like a Coco Pop, so youve got a Coco Pop on your face. I looked like Harry Potter when I was a kid, so they call me Potter, thats my nickname. Every single one of us has something. So you youve got Chinese eyes. Youre Chinese.
For the record, I didnt think this was OK, but coming after such a harmless litany, it didnt seem malicious enough to confront. Of course, tacit endorsement is what makes such offensive epithets a commonplace, and so it troubles me that it made me feel mysteriously welcome, just as it had when John punched me lightly in the balls when I arrived. There was no doubting Elliss sincerity: as he spoke, the sheer daft beauty of male friendship seemed to amaze him, almost to the point of physical pain. We just take the piss out of each other, and thats how we show our love, he said. So many group chats on the phone, and you just take the piss until they cry. And its like, when youre really killing them, you go, Ill stop if you want, because you know they cant say yes, so you just keep going. Then we arrived at the next bar, where I was made to drink something called a Zombie.
Early in the evening, before any of this had undermined my ability to take useful notes, Ellis broke off from talking as we walked down the street and sidled into a window display at Next Home, where he Tracey Emined a carefully made bed by climbing into it and rolling around. Everyone cracked up. Give the world a laugh, Ellis tends to think, and the world will smile back at you. Jump on a boat, and youll end up somewhere great; make the boat up, and youll get there faster. Its all about having fun, its all about the banter, he said, after hed rejoined us outside. Banter is about making the world a more exciting place.
If nobody can agree on what banter is, thats hardly a new problem. The first usage of the word recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary comes from noted Restoration lad Thomas dUrfey, also known for his hit song The Fart, in a satirical 1677 play called Madam Fickle. Banter him, banter him, Toby, a character called Zechiel urges, which may be the first time that someone called Toby was so instructed, but certainly wasnt the last.
The OED also notes early attempts at a definition by Jonathan Swift and Samuel Johnson. (Swift mentions a banter upon transubstantiation, in which a cork is turned into a horse, and fair enough, turning a cork into a horse would be classic banter.) Both are a little disgusted by the word, and neither unearths much of an origin story: by their accounts, banter is so coarse that it emerged, fully formed and without antecedent, out of the mouths of oafs.
As it turns out, though, the OED is not at present fully able to handle the banter. According to Eleanor Maier, an associate editor on the dictionary, a search of earlier English texts reveals that a number of previous examples are missing from the dictionarys definition, which was first drafted in 1885 including a quote from a 1657 translation of Don Quixote. (After examining the history, Maier told me that she would be adding banter to the list of entries that are up for review.)
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dougie stew (@DougieStew)
Welcome to London #BagelGate pic.twitter.com/KcJoz0ycZU
February 26, 2017
In recent years, banter has barged into our lives at a remarkable clip. Googles Ngram Viewer, a tool that assesses (with some limitations) the frequency with which a term appears in a large database of written sources, finds that banter popped up about twice as often in 2008, the most recent year covered, as it did in 1980.
But banter plugged away for a long time before it became an overnight success. In the 19th century, it often denoted a kind of formal sparring. Even as the term evolved over the 20th, it continued to seem a little prim. In the House of Commons in 1936, Ramsay MacDonald, the former Labour prime minister who had returned in a new seat after losing his old one, was subjected to a good deal of banter Dear old Granny MacDonald!, among other witticisms.In 1981, a Guardian report that chess champion Anatoly Karpov and his handlers had successfully protested at his challenger Viktor Korchnois constant cross-board talk ran under the unlikely headline: Chess banter banned.
Such stories do little to prepare us for what banter has become. Consider the viral video that became known as #bagelgate earlier this year. In the recording, a minor scuffle broke out on the 00.54 train from Kings Cross to Huntingdon, and then for no obviously related reason a woman who had a large bag of bagels decided to put one on the head of the guy sitting in front of her, and then another after he took it off and threw it out of the window, and another and another, and then everyone in the carriage started chanting hes got a bagel on his head, and eventually the slightly spoddy victim who is me when I was 13 and someone filled my pencil case with Mr Kipling apple pies (squashed, oozing) because I was fat lost it and screamed Get the fuck out of my face!, and then another fight broke out on the platform, and then the police got on to the train, and every single person fell into not-me-guv silence: this is not Granny MacDonalds banter any more.
If it is hard to understand how these activities can fall under the same umbrella, it should be noted that a phenomenon may predate our choice of term to describe it its just that the act of definition makes it more visible, and perhaps more likely to be imitated. At some point, though, banter became the name for what British men already regarded as their natural tone of voice. There is a very deeply embedded folk culture in the UK of public ribaldry, extreme sarcasm, facetiousness in other words, of laddishness, says Tony Thorne, a linguist and cultural historian. What you might think of as banter now is rooted in that tradition.
That tradition first lashed itself to banters mast in the early 1990s, and controversy soon followed. In June 1992, a Guardian story headlined Police fire sex banter officer, about the dismissal of a sergeant for sexual harassment, recorded an early skirmish in the modern banter wars, and an important new layer to its meaning in the wild: The move is seen as part of the Metropolitan polices desire to reassure women officers that what has previously been tolerated as banter is no longer acceptable. Two years later, the lads mags arrived.
The first edition of Loaded magazine appeared in May 1994, with a picture of Gary Oldman on the front smoking a dog-end, under a banner that declared him a super lad. What fresh lunacy is this? the editors note read. Loaded is a new magazine dedicated to life, liberty and the pursuit of sex, drink, football and less serious matters Loaded is for the man who believes he can do anything, if only he wasnt hungover.
If banter dismays you, James Brown, the magazines first editor, is quite an easy bogeyman. As he acknowledges himself, he created a title that defined a genre. Loaded was swiftly recognised as a foundational text for a resurgent and ebullient masculinity that had been searching for public expression. While it was always overtly horny, the magazine was initially more interested in a forlorn, slackjawed and self-ironising appreciation of A-listers (one reversible poster had Cindy Crawford on one side and a steam train on the other) than the grot-plus-football formula that successors and imitators like Maxim, Zoo and Nuts milked to destruction. But it also flirted with something murkier.
To its critics, Loaded and its imitators aimed to sanitise a certain hooliganistic worldview with a strategic disclaimer. Banter emerges as this relentless gloss of irony over everything, said Bethan Benwell, senior lecturer in language and linguistics at the University of Stirling and the author of several papers on mens magazines. The constant excusing of sexist or homophobic sentiments with this wink that says you dont really mean it. Benwell pointed to Loadeds emblematic strapline: For men who should know better.
Brown denies that his magazine invented banter. Instead, he says, it captured a zeitgeist that the media had previously failed to acknowledge; the folk culture that Tony Thorne refers to, brought out into the open. Before Browns intervention, GQ had run John Major and Michael Heseltine as cover stars, for Gods sake. I took the interests and the outlook of the young men that I knew, and I put them in a magazine, Brown said. Im not responsible for the tone of the later entrants to the market. We were criticised because we fancied women, not because we belittled them.
The thing about Loaded was that the way we wrote reflected the way we were with our mates, he went on. Theres definitely a thing that exists in the male outlook: you take the piss out of the people you like, and you ignore the people you dont.
Accept this as your starting point, and objections become exhausting to sustain: what youre objecting to is an act of affection. Of course, this is what makes it insidious. Because Browns account rests on the intention behind the magazine, and Benwells on the effect it had, they are impossible to reconcile. Its a very difficult thing to resist or challenge without looking like the stereotypical humourless feminist, said Benwell. But by laughing, you become complicit.
Loaded gave this new kind of banter escape velocity, and it began to colonise other worlds. On BBC2, for example, David Baddiel and Frank Skinner were staking out their own territory with Fantasy Football League, a mixture of sketches and celebrity chat that managed to be enthusiastic and satirical at the same time, and reached its peak when the pair became national icons, thanks to their Euro 96 anthem, Three Lions. While a long-running joke about the Nottingham Forest striker Jason Lees pineapple haircut seems flatly racist in retrospect Baddiel did an impression of him in blackface by and large, the tone was milder and more conventional than the magazines were: this was the sensibility of the university graduate slumming it before embarking on grown-up life.
Baddiel implied that laddism could easily occupy a spectrum from ogling to literature, drawing a line to Nick Hornbys memoir of life as an Arsenal fan, Fever Pitch. Hornby once said to me that all this stuff you know, fantasy football and his book is men talking about things that they like and for a while in the mid-80s they werent allowed to, he said in 1995. Ive always liked football and Ive always liked naked women, and its easier to talk about that now than it was eight years ago. Those comments reflect a kind of sneer at its critics that you could often detect in Fantasy Football League, even as its hosts protested that they were just having a laugh though Baddiel himself denies that view. Twenty years on, he, like Brown, is at pains to draw a line between the approach that he and Skinner popularised, and the forms that came later. I guess me and Frank did specialise in banter, he said in an email. In a time before it was known as bantz.
Over the next 10 years, two things happened that ushered in the age of banter. (You might call it mature banter, except that its also the opposite.) First, instead of just being a thing that happened, it became a thing that people talked about. Then, as it became a more tangible cultural product, everyone started trying to make money out of it. The watershed moment, the forms equivalent to Dylan going electric, was the invention of Dave.
Like most good ideas, it looks simple enough in retrospect. Before Dave was Dave, it was UKTV Gold 2. The predecessor channels audience share was 0.761%, and no one could tell who on earth it was supposed to be for. But we had the content, says Steve North, the channels brand manager in 2007 and content of a particular kind that the existing name did very little to communicate: Have I Got News for You, They Think Its All Over, Top Gear. Viewers said they loved the repartee, the humour. It reminded them of spending time with their funniest friends.
The first issue of Loaded magazine, from May 1994
The target audience was highly specific. It was men married or in relationships, maybe with young children, not going to the pub as much as they used to, says Andy Bryant, managing director of Red Bee, the agency brought in to work on the rebrand. And they missed that camaraderie.
Their purpose thus fixed, North started to run brainstorming sessions at which people would shout out suggestions for the name. One of the ones we collected was Dave, he says. We thought, great, but we cant call it that. But then we thought, Its a surrogate friend. If the audience really sees it as that, if they see it as genuinely providing the banter, maybe we can really give it a name.
They put their hunch through its paces. The market research company YouGov was commissioned to test Dave alongside a bunch of other names (Matthew and Kevin were also on the shortlist), but nothing else had the same everyman resonance. For us, Dave is a sensibility, a place, an emotion, a feeling, said North, his tone thoughtful, almost gnomic. Everyone has their own sense of who Dave is, thats the important thing. Its hard to find anyone who doesnt know someone called Dave.
Now the channel had a brand, it needed a slogan. Lots of people claim they played a part in the naming, says Bryant. But it was just as important to encapsulate what the channel was all about. And at some point someone, I dont know who, wrote it on a board: The home of witty banter. The rebrand added 8m new viewers in six months; Dave saw a 71% increase in its target audience of affluent young men.
Conceived by the first generation of senior professionals to have grown up with banter as an unremarkable part of their demographics cultural mix, the channel crystallised a change, and accelerated it. In 2006, The Ricky Gervais Show, in which Gervais and Stephen Merchant relentlessly poked fun at their in-house idiot savant Karl Pilkington, became the most popular podcast of all time. In 2007, the year of Daves rebrand, Top Gears ratings shot from below 5m to a record high of 8m. The following year, QI moved from BBC4 to BBC2. (A tie-in book published the same year, QI: Advanced Banter, sold more than 125,000 copies.)
North saw the kind of fraternal teasing that was being monetised by his channel, and the panel shows that were its lifeblood, as fundamentally benign. The key thing is that its two-way, he said. Its about two people riffing off each other.
But like his 20th-century forebears, he can see that something ugly has evolved, and he wants to keep his brand well away from it. Bants, he said with distaste. That thing of cover for dubious behaviour we hate and despise it massively. When we launched, it was about fun, being light-hearted, maybe pushing each other without being disrespectful. When people talk about Ive had a go at that person, great banter no, thats just nasty.
By the turn of the decade,as other branding agencies mimicked the success of Dave, banter was everywhere, a folk tradition that had acquired a peculiar sort of respectability. The men who celebrated it werent just lads in the pub any more: they had spending power and establishment allies on their side. But they were, by the same token, more visible to critics. Aggression from an underdog can be overlooked; aggression from the establishment is serious enough to become a matter of public concern.
Take Richard Keys and Andy Gray, Sky Sports brand-defining football presenters, who got themselves up to their necks in some extremely bad banter in 2011. Keys blamed dark forces, but everyone else blamed him and Gray for being misogynists. We knew this because there was footage.
The firestorm, as Keys called it, centred on claims that the two men had said and done heinously sexist things off-air. Most memorable, at least for its phrase-making, was the clip in which Keys eagerly asked his fellow pundit Jamie Redknapp if hed smashed it it being a woman and asserted that he could often be found hanging out the back of it.
Gray went quickly. In the days before he followed, Keys burned hot with injustice in a series of mea-sorta-culpas, particularly focused on the tape in which he expressed his derision at the idea that a woman, Sian Massey-Ellis, could be an assistant referee in the Premier League.
It was just banter, he said. Or, more exactly, just a bit of banter, as he said Massey-Ellis had assured him she understood in a later telephone conversation in which, he added, much banter passed between us. She and I enjoyed some banter, he protested. It was lads-mag banter, he insisted. It was stone-age banter, he admitted. We liked to have banter, he explained. Richard Keys was sorry if you were offended, but also, it wasnt his fault if you didnt get it. It was just banter, for goodness sake!
Up to their necks in some extremely bad banter Andy Gray and Richard Keys in 2011. Photograph: Richard Saker/Rex
Keys insistence that his mistake was simply a failure to move with the times was nothing new: banter has always seemed to carry a longing for the past, for an imagined era before male friendship was so cramped by the tiresome obligations of feminist scrutiny. But while his underlying views were painfully dated, his conception of banter was entirely modern: a sly expansion of the words meaning, and a self-conscious contention that it provided an impregnable defence.
The Keys variation understood banter, first, as a catch-all means of denying responsibility if anyone was hurt; and, second, as a means of reinforcing a bond between two people by being cruel about a third. The comparison wouldnt please a couple of alphas like Keys and Gray, but both strategies brought it closer to a style of communication with classically feminine associations: gossip. Deborah Cameron, the Rupert Murdoch (lol) Professor in Language and Communication at Oxford University, argues that the two modes of interaction follow basically the same structure. People gossip as a trust game, she said. You tell someone your unsayable private secret, and it bonds you closer together. Theyre supposed to reciprocate with a confidence of their own. Well, banter works in the same way now. You say something outrageous, and you see if the other person dares to top your remark.
The trust game in banter was traditionally supposed to be: do you trust me when I say were friends in spite of the mean things Im saying about you? But now theres a second version of the game: do I trust you not to tell anyone the mean things Im saying about other people? I think originally it was a harmless thing, said Cameron, whose analysis is rooted in an archive of male group conversation, mostly recorded by her students, that goes back to the 1980s. But then it started to be used as an excuse when men were caught out engaging in forms of it that werent so harmless.
It comes down to context and intent, says the comedian Bridget Christie. The gentler form of banter is still knocking around, she suggested, but now it exists alongside something darker: I found The Inbetweeners adolescent banter hilarious, because it was equal and unthreatening. But there is obviously a world of difference between a group of teenage boys benignly taking the piss out of each other, and a bigot being racist or misogynist and trying to pass it off as a joke.
Trace the rise of banter, and you will find that it corresponds to the rise of political correctness or, anyway, to the backlash against political correctness gone mad. That phrase and just banter mirror each other perfectly: one denoting a priggish culture that is deemed to have overreached, the other a laid-back culture that is deemed to have been unfairly reined in. Ironically enough, just banter does exactly what it accuses political correctness of, seeking to close down discussion by telling you that meaning is settled by category rather than content. Political correctness asserts that a racist joke is primarily racist, whereas banter asserts that a racist joke is primarily a joke. In the past, the men who used it rarely had to define it, or to explain themselves to anybody else. Today, in contrast, it is named all the time. The biggest change isnt the banter itself, says Bethan Benwell. Its the explicit use of the word as a disclaimer.
By sheer repetition and by its use as an unanswerable defence, banter has turned from an abstraction into a vast and calcified description of actions as well as words: gone from a way of talking to a way of life, a style that accidentally became a worldview. He bantered you, people sometimes say: you always used to banter with your mates, but now it often sounds like something you do to them. Once it was directionless, inconclusive chatter with wit as the engine that drove it, said the comedian Russell Kane. Now, if I trip you up, thats banter.
You might think the humiliation suffered by Keys and Gray would have made banter less appealing as a get-out, but not a bit of it. Banter, increasingly, seems like the first refuge of the inexcusable. In 2014, Malky Mackay, who had been fired as manager of Cardiff City Football Club a year earlier, was caught having sent texts that referred to Chinese people eating dogs, black people being criminals, Jewish people being avaricious, and gay people being snakes all of which were initially optimistically defended by the League Managers Association as letting off steam to a friend during some friendly text message banter. The comedian Dapper Laughs, whose real name is Daniel OReilly, established himself as banters rat king, with his very own ITV2 show, and then lost it after he suggested that an audience member at one of his gigs was gagging for a rape. A man was convicted of murder after he crushed his friend against a wall with a Jeep Cherokee after an argument over badger-baiting, a course of action that he said had been intended as banter. Another slashed the throat of someone he had met in a pub and described the incident as a moment of banter after 14 or 15 pints. Both are now in prison.
By any sane measure,banter was falling into disrepute, as often a disguise for malice as a word for the ribaldry of lads on the lash. Still it did not go away: instead, the worst of it has mutated again, asserting its authority in public and saving its creepiest tendencies for the shadows or, at least, for the company of five, or 10, or 20 of your closest mates.
At the London School of Economics, it started with a leaflet. Each year at the universitys freshers fair, LSE Rugby Football Club distributed a banterous primer on rugby culture. In October 2014, says the then-president of the student union, Nona Buckley-Irvine, a student came to her in tears with a copy in her hand. The leaflet talked about trollops, slags, crumpet, mingers, and the desirability of misogyny; there were passing references to the horrors of homosexual humiliation and outright homosexual debauchery. Anyone charmed by all this was invited to sign up for the club and join the banter list, entitling them to participate in the exchange of chappish email conversation.
To anyone with a passing knowledge of university laddism, it was hard to imagine a more ordinary iteration. Still, after the unreconstructed chappishness of the leaflet came to light, the club knew it had a problem. It issued a collective apology acknowledging that we have a lot to learn about the pernicious effects of banter, and promised to organise a workshop. But there was reason to be sceptical about the depth of that commitment.
When Buckley-Irvine and her colleagues published a report on the incident, they noted a string of others, including an antisemitic assault on a university ski trip to Val dIsere in 2011. And there were other indiscretions it didnt mention. According to two people who were present, one club dinner at an Indian restaurant on Brick Lane ended with a stripper having bottles thrown at her when, already intimidated, she refused to take her clothes off. She hid in the toilet, and had to be escorted out by a member of staff as the team vandalised the restaurant.
Photograph: Alamy
According to five people who were either members of the rugby club or closely associated with it, one notorious senior member was widely thought to be responsible for the leaflet. (He did not respond to requests for comment.) But when they came to defend themselves to the student union, members of the club fell back on one of the most revered pillars of laddism: all for one, one for all. Theyd clearly worked out a line, says Nona Buckley-Irvine. No one individual was responsible. They were sorry. It was just banter. Thats what they all said.
The accountancy firm KPMG, which sponsored the universitys wider Athletics Union, decided that banter was not an especially helpful brand association, and withdrew funding worth 22,000. The students union decided to disband the club for the academic year. The decision moved some observers to disgust. It was a gross overreaction, a former team member told me. We were the best-behaved team when it came to actually playing rugby but they banned that bit and they couldnt ban any of the rest.
Others took a less measured tone. I had old members emailing me and calling me a fascist, says Buckley-Irvine. Asking me if I didnt understand that it was just banter. Rugby players chanted abuse at her on nights out, she told me. They shoulder-barged her, and called her a cunt.
These kinds of interactions would tend to take place on Wednesdays, also known as sports night, at a bar in Leicester Square. Sports night was the apotheosis of the rugby clubs bleak solidarity. In deference to what you might call the wingers-before-mingers code, for instance, members of the club who were expected to dress in suits werent allowed to speak to women before 9pm. So they would just shout abuse instead, one female former student, who Ill call Anna, remembered. One chant, she said, went, Nine nos and a yes is a yes. At the time, Anna thought that it was all a joke. People would say, Its just banter all the time. After everything. Absolutely everything, she said, sitting in a cafe in south London. If you were meeting someone new, saying they had good banter, that was a pretty high compliment. Whereas if you dont go along with that stuff, its seen as, you cant take the chat, you cant take the banter. And its not seen as having a stance against it. Its seen as not being able to keep up.
After the rugby club was disbanded, nothing much changed in sports night social life. Many members of the club still went on the same nights out; they just colonised other teams. They still addressed girls as Sarah 2 or Sarah 8 depending on how attractive they considered them out of 10; they still had shouted conversations about their sex lives in front of the women they had slept with but refused to acknowledge.
That culture was not confined to Wednesday nights. Anna remembers a guy who took her picture as she slept, naked, in the bed they were sharing, and circulated it to another non-university sports team via WhatsApp. She wasnt meant to see it on his phone.
Ask anyone well-informed where banter resides now, and theyll give the same answer: WhatsApp groups and email threads, the safe spaces of the lad class. What youd get out of those WhatsApp threads, its another world of drama, one former member of the football club said. The details of girls bodies that youd read, a few funny jibes, that was the limit for me. But when it moved on to, like, really, really bad stuff, always about sex it was too much. Those threads are the source of everything.
If the threads were an outlet, they were by no means the limit. Banter, by common consent, wasnt confined to mocking each other: it was about action. If you dressed up for a night out, one female student remembered, it was just kind of status quo that you could have your arse grabbed. It was just like, Oh, that was kind of weird, but OK, thatll happen. Like everyone else willing to speak about it, her view of that culture was perplexingly nuanced, sometimes contradictory. It sounds scary, she said, but that being said, some of my best nights were there, and like it was fun. But then she said: What was defined as serious just got so pushed. I think for someone to lodge a complaint they would have to be actually hurt.
Anna remembers lots of sketchy incidents. She recalls nights when her choices faded into a blur, and she wondered if she had really been in control. But at the time, I would never call it out, she said. And then, youre all living in halls together, and the next day, its like: What did you do last night? Thats hilarious. Thats banter.
When Anna thinks about the behaviour of some of the men she knew at university, she finds it hard to pin down exactly what she thinks of them. Theres one in particular who sticks in her mind. On a Wednesday night, he was a banter guy, she said. He was a Wednesday animal. But the rest of the time, he was my friend.
Controversial though all this was at the time, no one seems to think that it will have cost the perpetrators much. Ive tried so hard to leave all that behind, said the former member of the football team. But those guys theyre all going on to run banks, or the country, or whatever. The senior rugby man who many held responsible, by the way, has landed on his feet. Today, he has a job at KPMG.
In 2017, every new instance of banter is immediately spotted and put through the journalistic wringer. (Vices Joel Golby, who wrote the definitive text on the bagel thing, has made a career from his exquisite close readings of the form.) But when each new absolute legend emerges, we dont usually have the context to make the essential judgment: do the proponents tend towards the harmless warmth of Ellis and his mates, or the frank hostility of the LSE rugby boys? Is their love of irony straightforward, or a mask for something else?
As Richard Keys and Dapper Laughs and their cohorts have polluted the idea of banter, the commercial entities that endorsed its rise have become uneasy with the label. They wanted it to go viral; they hadnt expected it to go postal. Dave, for example, has dropped the home of witty banter slogan. Its not about classic male humour any more, its a little bit smarter, says UKTVs Steve North. We definitely say it less than we used to.
<source media="(min-wid
from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/08/02/the-age-of-banter/
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caredogstips · 7 years ago
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The age of joke
The long speak: It used to be precisely a word now it is a way of life. But is it is necessary to get down the banter bus?
Its the most fucking laughable storey, isnt it? We went to watch fucking dolphins, and we ended up in fucking Syria. Last-place summertime in the Mediterranean party resort of Ayia Napa, Lewis Ellis was wielding as a guild rep. I represent, it was fucking 8am, he told an Australian website soon afterwards, and the last fucking golf-club had closed, and we remembered, We can still depart dolphin watching. Well blag our mode on to a fucking craft and croak dolphin watching.
But when the boat voyaged so far that Cyprus disappeared from panorama, Ellis explained, they started to worry. Why are we so far from tract? they questioned the crew. Were fucking miles away and weve got no fucking wifi. Something, Ellis said, had been lost in rendition; his exuberant season as a shepherd for the useds party pilgrims used to go terribly awry. The gang wasnt taking them to watch dolphins: they were going to a Russian naval basi in the towns of Tartus, on Syrias Mediterranean coast. Yeah, it is a little ridiculous.
It was , nonetheless, a fib that had legs. Hungover lads boat errand boob territory them in Syria, wahey-ed the Mirror; British holidaymakers board defendant barge in Ayia Napa and be brought to an end in war-torn SYRIA, laughed the Express. If you envisioned these headlines at the time, you may dimly remember the rest. A stubborn trawler captain, chugging doggedly onwards to Tartus, where he turfed the friends out upon territory; interrogation at the mitts of Russian intelligence officers; mutual hilarity as the Russians realised what had happened; and, after a red-hot banquet, a speedy tour of the expanse, and a good darkness sleep, spots on the next angling boat headed back to Cyprus. It was never made clear why the captain had let them on the craft in the first place, but whatever. Everyone lapped it up.
Reflecting on the whole circumstance five a few months later, Ellis, a 26 -year-old with a business position and a marketing lords, couldnt altogether wrap his head around it. I ponder I experienced 35 narratives about us, he told me. I read about myself in the Hawaiian Express, do you know what I symbolize?( Notwithstanding that there is nothing to doesnt appear to be any such newspaper, yes, I emphatically do .)
What became it really weird to see the media pile in with such unstinting passion was that the storey was total cobblers. I could not belief how unsophisticated they were, Ellis said, a top memo of hilarity still in his tone. We were just having a chortle! It was banter!
Lads: this is the age of joke. Its long been somewhat about the banter, but over the last few years, it has come to seem that its all about the banter an unabashedly bumptious posture that took up a position on the outskirts of different cultures in the early 90 s and has been larging its road towards the centre ever since. “Theres” hundreds of banter groups on Facebook, from Banter Britain( no memes insinuating child abuse/ dead children !!!) to Wanker Banter 18+( Have a laugh and keep it sick) to the Premier League Banter Page( The only ruler: keep it banter ). You can buy an I banter jugs on Amazon for 9, or an Archbishop of Banterbury T-shirt for 9.99.
There are now four sprigs of a restaurant announced Scoff& Banter. When circumstances were going badly at Chelsea FC under Jos Mourinho, it was reported the team had banned all joke in an attempt to focus their subconscious, and that word appeared in the newspapers, as if you would know exactly what it entail. Person has created a banter map of London using a keyword scour on the flatshare website SpareRoom, indicating exactly where people “re looking for a” roommate with good banter( Clapham tends to facet prominently ). When a 26 -year-old man from Leeds constituted for a selfie with a baffled aeroplane hijacker, Vice swore it the high-water rating of banter.
Lewis Ellis( left) and friends in Ayia Napa, pretending to be in Syria. Photograph: Lewis Ellis
If you are younger than about 35, you are likely to hear the expression all the time. Either you have banter( if you are funny and can take a pun) or you dont( if you arent and cannot ). The mainstream, in summary, is now drink and asleep on the sofa, and banter is delightedly drawing a penis on its forehead.
As banter has risen, it has expanded. Long a word used to describe submerged sayings of fraternal charity, it is now likewise a word allows one to excuse uninhibited exhibitions of masculine bravado. Today, it is segregated by class, seized on by brands, picked over by psychologists, and regretted by culture reviewers; it is dominant, fiercely contested and exclusively hazily understood.
And so, whether he purposes it to or not, Ellis use of the expression parent some questions. Is he shedding his pile in with the most prevalent division of the blokeish mainstream, a sanitised and gracious gaiety that elongates from lad-dad panel shows to your teammates zinger about your dreadful haircut? Or is he lining up with the misogynist impersonators of the Bullingdon club, a sprinkling of prejudiceds, and, as we shall identify, an actual murderer purveyors of a malicious and insidious masculinity that insists on its indivisible dominion and calls you a slut if you object?
Ellis isnt preoccupied by these questions, but for what its worth, he does say that he and his friends never had the slightest planned of going to Syria. We werent actually trying to clown anyone, he told me, although Im not sure thats wholly consistent with the facts of the case. We were out for a saunter, and we went across this area that gazed actually run down, we thought it was like Syria. So we apply it on the team reps[ Facebook] page that thats where we were. And everyone started liking it. And then one of the people who contacted us was from LADBible which is like the Bible, but for LADS so we pronounced, well have a mess around here. Well tell a completely ridiculous tale, see if the media believes it. Find if we can become LADBible famous.
It did, we are able to. Eventually, the truth “re coming out” , not thanks to any especially determined investigative journalism, but because Ellis cheerily admitted on Facebook that his narration of superb foolishnes was a story. Hahaha what a prank, he wrote, with some justification.
The confession simply raised another repetition of notice. Books that had picked up the legend in the first place resurfaced it with new headlines to manifest the daring of the fabrication; social media useds adduced it as evidence for their own views of young men, or the media, or both. The Russian delegation Twitter account announced it a telling illustration of how many Syria( and Russia) stories are made up by UK newspapers, which was great geopolitical banter. The courtesy entertained Ellis, but he alleges it wasnt the stage. We simply thought it was funny, he responded. People are too serious. I hinder being told to grow up, but I still want to have a good time. Ive had the jobs, Ive got the education. But when Im off production, I want to escape.
Ellis is an enthusiast and an optimist. He is, he told me late last year, hopeless to take every opportunity, simply to enunciate yes to everything I can. We were on a nighttime out in Manchester with his pals Tyson, John and Chris. In such courses of the evening, the following circumstances knew their mode into my brew: fingers; salt; vinegar; mayonnaise; a chip; saliva; a 10 greenback; and, I hazily recollect being told after the fact, at the least two shootings of vodka.
Everyones got a thought in the group, Ellis said, as we walked from one saloon to the next. One person, hes not even that ugly, we say he looks just like a Peperami. Tysons get this mole on his appearance, its like a Coco Pop, so youve got a Coco Pop on your appearance. I looked like Harry Potter when I was a kid, so they announce me Potter, thats my moniker. Every single one of us has something. So you youve gone Chinese attentions. Youre Chinese.
For the record, I didnt think this was OK, but coming after such a harmless litany, it didnt seem malicious enough to confront. Of course, tacit promotion is what shapes such offensive epithets a platitude, and so it is a matter of concern that it saw “i m feeling” mysteriously accepted, just as it had when John perforated me softly in the pellets when I arrived. There was no doubting Elliss candour: as he spoke, the sheer daft beautiful of male friendship seems to astounded him, almost to the point of physical suffering. We just take the piss out of each other, and thats how we establish our passion , he spoke. So many group converses on the phone, and you just take the piss until they cry . And its like, when youre certainly killing them, you go, Ill stop if you miss, because you know they cant say yes, so you exactly keep going. Then we arrived at the next rail, where I was made to drink something called a Zombie.
Early in the evening, before any of this had eroded my ability to take helpful notes, Ellis smashed off from talking as we moved down wall street and sidled into a window display at Next Home, where he Tracey Emined a carefully established bottom by climbing into it and reeling around. Everyone cracked up. Contribute “the worlds” a shriek, Ellis tends to think, and the world will smile back at you. Jump on a craft, and youll end up somewhere enormous; stimulate the boat up, and youll got to get faster. Its all about having fun, its all about the banter, he articulated, after hed rejoined us outside. Banter is about realise “the worlds” a more exciting place.
If nobody can agree on what joke is, thats scarcely a new difficulty. The first habit of the word recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary comes from memo Restoration lad Thomas dUrfey, also known for his hit hymn The Fart, in a sarcastic 1677 participate called Madam Fickle. Banter him, banter him, Toby, a character called Zechiel urges, which may be the first time that someone called Toby was so instructed, but certainly wasnt the last.
The OED also notes early attempts at a description by Jonathan Swift and Samuel Johnson.( Speedy mentions a banter upon transubstantiation, in which a cork is turned into a horse, and fair enough, revolving a stopper into a mare “wouldve been” classic joke .) Both “re a bit” disgusted by the word, and neither unearths often of an origin narrative: by their chronicles, joke is so coarse that it rose, amply structured and without antecedent, out of the mouths of oafs.
As it is about to change, though, the OED is not at present amply able to handle the banter. According to Eleanor Maier, an associate editor on the dictionary, a research of earlier English texts reveals that a number of previous patterns are missing from the dictionarys definition, which is now being first drafted in 1885 including a quote from a 1657 rendition of Don Quixote.( After examining the history, Maier told him that she would be adding banter to the listing of introductions that are up for evaluate .)
dougie stew (@ DougieStew)
Welcome to London #BagelGate pic.twitter.com/ KcJoz0ycZU
February 26, 2017
In recent years, joke has barged into our lives at a impressive time. Googles Ngram Viewer, a implement that assesses( with some limitations) the frequency with which a period shall be published in a large database of written sources, finds that banter popped up approximately twice as often in 2008, the most recent year plowed, as it did in 1980.
But banter plugged away for a very long time before it became an overnight success. In the 19 th century, it often designated a kind of formal sparring. Even as the term progressed over the 20 th, it continued to seem a bit prissy. In the House of Commons in 1936, Ramsay MacDonald, the former Labour prime minister who had recalled in a brand-new sit after losing his old one, was subjected to a great deal of banter Dear old-time Granny MacDonald !, among other witticisms.In 1981, a Guardian report that chess champion Anatoly Karpov and his handlers have succeeded in protested at his challenger Viktor Korchnois constant cross-board talk ran under the unlikely headline: Chess joke banned.
Such floors do little to prepare us for what banter has become. Consider the viral video that became known as #bagelgate earlier this year. In the recording, a minor hassle broke out on the 00.54 improve from Kings Cross to Huntingdon, and then for no plainly related rationale the status of women who had a large crate of bagels decided to put one on the heads of state of the person sitting in front of her, and then another after “hes taking” it off and hurled it out of the window, and another and another, and then everyone in the carriage started chanting hes got a bagel on his head, and eventually the slightly spoddy prey who is me when I was 13 and someone filled my pencil client with Mr Kipling apple pies( squashed, exuding) because I was fatty completely lost and hollered Get the fuck out of my appearance !, and then another campaign broke out on the programme, and then the police got on to the teach, and every single person fell into not-me-guv stillnes: this is not Granny MacDonalds joke any more.
If it is hard to understand how these activities can fall under the same umbrella, it should be noted that a phenomenon may predate our choice of expression to describe it its precisely that the act of description draws it most visible, and perhaps more likely to be imitated. At some place, though, joke became the call for what British boys already regarded as their natural tone of voice. There is a very deeply embedded folk culture in the UK of public ribaldry, extreme satire, facetiousness in other words, of laddishness, speaks Tony Thorne, a linguist and cultural historian. What you might think of as banter now is rooted in that tradition.
That tradition firstly flogged itself to banters mast in the early 1990 s, and polemic soon followed. In June 1992, a Guardian storey headlined Police fire sex banter officer, about the removal of a sergeant for sexual harassment, entered an early skirmish in the modern banter battles, and its significant brand-new bed to its meaning in the wild: The move is seen as part of the Metropolitan polices desire to reassure women officers that what has previously been tolerated as banter is greater acceptable. Two year later, the cubs mags arrived.
The first edition of Loaded magazine appeared in May 1994, with a picture of Gary Oldman on the figurehead inhaling a dog-end, under a placard that showed him a super cub. What fresh crazines is this? the editors note spoken. Loaded is a new publication dedicated to life, liberty and the endeavours of fornication, booze, football and less serious matters Loaded is for “the mens” who guesses he can do anything, if merely he wasnt hungover.
If banter chagrins you, James Brown, the magazines firstly writer, is quite an easy bogeyman. As he recognise himself, he composed a claim that defined a genre. Loaded was swiftly recognised as a foundational text for a resurgent and exuberant masculinity that had been searching for public showing. While it was always overtly horny, the publication was initially more interested in a lonesome, slackjawed and self-ironising acknowledgment of -Alisters( one reversible posting had Cindy Crawford on one side and a steam train on the other) than the grot-plus-football formula that successors and imitators like Maxim, Zoo and Nuts milked to shattering. But the committee is also flirted with something murkier.
To its pundits, Loaded and its imitators aimed to sanitise any particular hooliganistic worldview with a tactical renunciation. Banter emerges as this relentless gloss of incongruity over everything, told Bethan Benwell, elderly lecturer in speech and linguistics at the University of Stirling and the author of several newspapers on mens publications. The constant explain of sexist or homophobic feelings with this winking that says you dont really mean it. Benwell drawn attention to Loadeds emblematic strapline: For men who should know better.
Brown is denying that his periodical fabricated banter. Instead, he tells, it captured a zeitgeist that the media had previously failed to acknowledge; the kinfolk culture that Tony Thorne refers to, brought forward into the open. Before Browns intervention, GQ had extended John Major and Michael Heseltine as embrace hotshots, for Gods sake. I took the advantages and the mentality of the young men that I knew, and I give them in a publication, Brown suggested. Im not responsible for the atmosphere of the later entrants to the market. We were criticised because we fancied wives , not because we maligned them.
The thing about Loaded was that the mode we wrote manifested the way we were with our mates, he went on. Theres definitely a act that exists in the male outlook: you take the piss out of the person or persons you like, and you ignore the people you dont.
Accept this as your starting point, and dissents become exhausting to prolong: what youre objecting to is an behave of affection. Of route, “its what” stimulates it insidious. Because Browns account remainders on the intention behind the publication, and Benwells on the effect it had, they are impossible to reconcile. Its a very difficult act to withstand or objection without looking like the stereotypical humourless feminist, said Benwell. But by laughing, you are complicit.
Loaded leaved this new various kinds of banter escape velocity, and it has started to colonise other worlds. On BBC2, for example, David Baddiel and Frank Skinner were staking out their own territory with Fantasy Football League, a mixture of sketches and personality chit-chat that managed to be enthusiastic and satirical at the same occasion, and reached its peak when the pair became national icons, thanks to their Euro 96 chant, Three Lions. While a long-running joke about the Nottingham Forest striker Jason Lees pineapple haircut seems flatly racist in retrospect Baddiel did an impression of him in blackface by and large, the colour was milder and more conventional than the publications were: this was the insight of colleges and universities graduate slumming it before starting on grown-up life.
Baddiel implied that laddism is likely to be dominates a range from ogling to literature, depicting a line to Nick Hornbys memoir of life as an Arsenal fan, Fever Pitch. Hornby formerly said to me that all this stuff you are familiar with, imagination football and his journal is gentlemen speak about things that they like and for a while in the mid-8 0s they werent allowed to, he said in 1995. Ive always liked football and Ive always liked naked women, and its easier to talk about that now than it was eight years ago. Those explains manifest a kind of sneer at its pundits that you could often detect in Fantasy Football League, even as its hosts protested that they were just having a laugh though Baddiel himself is denying that view. Twenty times on, he, like Brown, is at hurtings to draw a line between the approach that he and Skinner popularised, and the forms that arose afterward. I approximate me and Frank did specialise in joke, he said in an email. In a hour before it was known as bantz.
Over the next 10 times, two things happened that ushered in persons under the age of joke.( You might call it matured joke, except that its too the opposite .) First, instead of just has become a circumstance that happened, it became a situation that people talked about. Then, as it became a more tangible culture make, everyone started trying to make money out of it. The watershed instant, the forms equivalent to Dylan extending electric, was the invention of Dave.
Like most good theories, it examines simple enough in retrospect. Before Dave was Dave, it was UKTV Gold 2. The precede channels gathering share was 0.761%, and no one could tell who on globe it was supposed to be for. But we had the contents, remarks Steve North, the channels brand director in 2007 and content of a specific kind that the existing appoint did very little to communicate: Have I Got News for You, They Belief Its All Over, Top Gear. Sees said they adoration the repartee, the comedy. It reminded them of spending time with their funniest friends.
The first issue of Loaded magazine, from May 1994
The target audience was highly specific. It was men marriage or in relationships, maybe with young children , not going to the inn as much as they used to, enunciates Andy Bryant, managing director of Red Bee, relevant agencies brought in to work on the rebrand. And they missed that camaraderie.
Their purpose thus fixed, North started to run brainstorming periods at which people would shout out recommendations for the call. One of the ones we compiled was Dave, he enunciates. We felt, enormous, but we cant call it that. But then we reputed, Its a replacement friend. If the audience really pictures it as that, if they see it as genuinely providing the banter, maybe we can really pay it a name.
They employed their hunch through its paces. The market research corporation YouGov was commissioned to test Dave alongside a cluster of other refers( Matthew and Kevin were also on the shortlist ), but nothing else had the same everyman resonance. For us, Dave is a sensibility, a place, an spirit, a sense, announced North, his tone astute, virtually gnomic. Everyone has their own gumption of who Dave is, thats the important thing. Its difficult to find anyone who doesnt know someone called Dave.
Now the channel had a firebrand, it needed a motto. Lots of people claim they played a part in the identify, announces Bryant. But it was just as important to encapsulate what the channel was all about. And at some part someone, I dont was well known that, wrote it on members of the board: The dwelling of funny joke. The rebrand contributed 8m brand-new spectators in six months; Dave watched a 71% increase in its target audience of affluent young men.
Conceived by the first generation of senior professionals to have grown up with joke as an unremarkable part of their demographics culture desegregate, the canal crystallised a change, and accelerated it. In 2006, The Ricky Gervais Show, in which Gervais and Stephen Merchant relentlessly poked fun at their in-house jerk savant Karl Pilkington, became the most popular podcast of all time. In 2007, its first year of Daves rebrand, Top Gears ratings shoot from below 5m to a record high-pitched of 8m. The following year, QI moved from BBC4 to BBC2.( A tie-in volume written the same year, QI: Advanced Banter, sold more than 125,000 transcripts .)
North checked the kind of fraternal pestering that was being monetised by his canal, and the panel shows that were its lifeblood, as fundamentally benign. The key happening is that its two-way, he responded. Its about two parties riffing off each other.
But like his 20 th-century forebears, he can see that something ugly has advanced, and he wants to keep his brand well away from it. Bants, he added with dislike. That circumstance of cover for dubious behaviour we detest and hate it massively. When we propelled, it was about enjoyable, being light-hearted, maybe pushing one another without being disrespectful. When people talk about Ive had a go at that person, great banter no, thats just nasty.
By the become of the decade, as other labelling bureaux simulated the success of Dave, banter was everywhere, a folk tradition that had acquired a strange kind of respectability. The all those people who celebrated it werent precisely fellows in the inn any more: they had spending ability and organisation allies on their surface. But they were, by the same token, more visible to commentators. Invasion from an underdog can be overlooked; aggressivenes from the establishment is serious enough to become a matter of public concern.
Take Richard Keys and Andy Gray, Sky Sports brand-defining football presenters, who got themselves up to their cervixes in some highly bad joke in 2011. Keys accused dark armies, but everybody else blamed him and Gray for being misogynists. We knew this because there was footage.
The firestorm, as Keys called it, centred on claims that the two men had said and done heinously sexist acts off-air. Most memorable, at the least for its phrase-making, was the time in which Keys eagerly requested his fellow pundit Jamie Redknapp if hed smashed it it being a woman and asserted that he could often be found hanging out the back of it.
Gray became promptly. In the days before he followed, Keys burned hot with sin in a series of mea-sorta-culpas, specially focused on the strip in which he conveyed his derision at the idea that the status of women, Sian Massey-Ellis, could be an aide referee in the Premier League.
It was just banter , he suggested. Or, more exactly, just a bit of joke, as he mentioned Massey-Ellis had assured him she understood in a later telephone conversation in which, he added, much joke elapsed between us. She and I enjoyed some joke, he protested. It was lads-mag joke, he contended. It was stone-age banter, he acknowledged. We liked to have banter, he explained. Richard Keys was sorry if you were offended, but likewise, it wasnt his faulting if you didnt get onto. It was just banter, for goodness sake!
Up to their necks in some particularly bad banter Andy Gray and Richard Keys in 2011. Picture: Richard Saker/ Rex
Keys insistence that his correct was simply a failure to move with the times was nothing new: banter has always seemed to carry a longing for the past, for the purposes of an guessed age before male love was so cramped by the tedious obligations of feminist scrutiny. But while his underlying deems were painfully dated, his thought of joke was only modern: a sly expansion of the words signify, and a self-conscious contention that it provided an impregnable defence.
The Keys variation understood banter, first, as a catch-all means of disavowing responsibility if someone was hurt; and, second, as a means of reinforcing a bail between two beings by being cruel about a third. The comparison wouldnt satisfy got a couple of alphas like Keys and Gray, but both strategies accompanied it closer to a style of communicating with classically feminine associations: gossip. Deborah Cameron, the Rupert Murdoch( lol) Professor in Language and Communication at Oxford University, argues that the two modes of interaction follow basically the same organization. People gab as a trust competition, she alleged. You tell someone your unsayable private secret, and it bonds you closer together. Theyre supposed to do now reciprocate with a confidence of their own. Well, banter works in the same way now. You say something appalling, and you see if the other person dares to top your remark.
The trust game in joke was traditionally is expected to be: do you trust me when I read were friends in spite of the aim circumstances Im replying about you? But now theres two seconds version of the game: do I trust you not to tell anyone the mean thoughts Im announcing about other parties? I repute initially it was a harmless event, enunciated Cameron, whose analysis is rooted in an repository of male group conversation, predominantly entered by her students, that goes back to the 1980 s. But then it started to be used as an excuse when gentlemen were caught out fully participate in forms of it that werent so harmless.
It comes down to context and meaning, says the comedian Bridget Christie. The gentler pattern of joke is still knocking around, she suggested, but now it exists alongside something darker: I obtained The Inbetweeners youngster banter hilarious, because it was equal and unthreatening. But there is obviously a world of difference between a group of teenage boys benignly taking the piss out of each other, and a bigot being racist or misogynist and trying to pass it off as a joke.
Trace the rise of banter, and you will find that it corresponds to the rise of political correctness or, anyway, to the backlash against political correctness gone mad. That word and just joke reflect each other perfectly: one denoting a priggish culture that is deemed to have overreached, the other a laid-back culture that is deemed to have been unfairly reined in. Ironically enough, merely joke does exactly what it alleges political correctness of, seeking to close down argument by say to you that making is settled by category rather than material. Political correctness is saying that a racist prank is mainly racist, whereas banter asserts that a racist pun is mainly a pun. In the past, the men who use it rarely had to define it, or to explain themselves to anybody else. Today, in contrast, it is mentioned all the time. The biggest change isnt the banter itself, remarks Bethan Benwell. Its the explicit call of the word as a disclaimer.
By sheer repetition and by its give as an unanswerable defense, joke has altered from an abstract into a vast and calcified description of wars as well as texts: started from a lane of talking to a way of life, a form that inadvertently became a worldview. He joked you, people sometimes remark: you always used to banter with your copulates, but now it often sounds like something you do to them. Once it was directionless, inconclusive yak with wit as the engine that drove it, said the comedian Russell Kane. Now, if I errand you up, thats banter.
You might think the mortification suffers from Keys and Gray would have constituted banter less plea as a get-out, but not a bit of it. Banter, increasingly, seems like the first sanctuary of the indefensible. In 2014, Malky Mackay, who had been fired as manager of Cardiff City Football Club a year earlier, was caught having transported textbook that referred to Chinese beings devouring bird-dogs, black people being criminals, Jewish people being avaricious, and lesbian parties being snakes all of which were initially optimistically defended by the League Managers Association as letting off steam to a friend during some friendly text letter banter. The comedian Dapper Laughs, whose real identify is Daniel OReilly, established himself as jokes rat king, with his very own ITV2 display, and then completely lost after he suggested that an audience member at one of his gigs was gagging for a assault. A man was convicted of assassinate after he mashed his friend against a wall with a Jeep Cherokee after an disagreement over badger-baiting, a course of action that he added had been intended as banter. Another trounced the throat of someone he had met in a pub and described the accident as a few moments of joke after 14 or 15 pints. Both are now in prison.
By any sane quantity, joke was falling into dishonor, as often a disguise for malice as a word for the ribaldry of fellows on the lash. Still it did not go away: instead, the worst of it has mutated again, insisting its expert in public and saving its creepiest partialities for the shadows or, at the least, for the company of five, or 10, or 20 of your closest mates.
At the London School of Economics, it started with a circular. Each year at the universitys freshers fair, LSE Rugby Football Club shared a banterous primer on rugby culture. In October 2014, suggests the then-president of the student solidarity, Nona Buckley-Irvine, a student has now come to her in tears with a emulate in her hand. The brochure “was talkin about a” trollops, slags, crumpet, mingers, and the desirability of misogyny; there were legislating cites to the frights of lesbian mortification and outright lesbian gluttony. Anyone charmed by all this was invited to sign up for the team and meet the banter register, entitling them to participate in the exchange of chappish email conversation.
To anyone with a run knowledge of university laddism, it was hard to suppose a more everyday iteration. Still, after the unreconstructed chappishness of the circular has now come to sunlight, the association knew it had a problem. It questioned a collective justification admitted that we have a lot to learn about the injurious effects of joke, and promised to organise a workshop. But there are still reason to be sceptical about the magnitude of that commitment.
When Buckley-Irvine and her peers published a report on the accident, they memo a fibre of others, including an antisemitic assault on a university ski tour to Val dIsere in 2011. And there were other follies it didnt mention. According to two people who were present, one club dinner at an Indian restaurant on Brick Lane ended with a stripper having bottles thrown at her when, already intimidated, she refused to take her invests off. She obscured in the toilet, and had to be escorted out by a member of staff as the team vandalised the restaurant.
Photograph: Alamy
According to five people who were either members of the rugby society or closely associated with it, one notorious elderly member was widely thought to be responsible for the booklet.( He did not respond to requests for explain .) But when they came to defend themselves to the student uniting, members of the squad fell back on one of “the worlds largest” revered mainstays of laddism: all for one, one for all. Theyd clearly worked out a line, mentions Nona Buckley-Irvine. No private individuals was responsible. They were sorry. It was just joke. Thats what they all said.
The accountancy firm KPMG, which sponsored colleges and universities wider Athletics Union, “ve decided that” banter was not an specially helpful firebrand association, and moved funding merit 22,000. The students uniting decided to disband the golf-club for the academic year. The decision moved some commentators to disgust. It was a gross overreaction, a former unit member told me. We were the best-behaved unit when it came to actually playing rugbies but they censored that bit and they couldnt proscribe any of the rest.
Others took a less measured tint. I had old-fashioned members emailing me and calling me a tyrant, articulates Buckley-Irvine. Expecting me if I didnt understand that it was just joke. Rugby actors sung mistreat at her on nights out, she told me. They shoulder-barged her, and called her a cunt.
These kinds of interactions would tend to take place on Wednesdays, also known as boasts night, at a prohibit in Leicester Square. Sports night was the apotheosis of the rugby organizations bleak solidarity. In homage to what you might call the wingers-before-mingers code, for example, representatives from the squad who were expected to dress in dress werent allowed to speak to women before 9pm. So they would just holler abuse instead, one girl former student, who Ill call Anna, remembered. One chant, she replied, get, Nine nos and a yes is a yes. At the time, Anna thought that it was all a pun. Beings would say, Its precisely banter all the time. After everything. Absolutely everything, she spoke, sitting in a cafe in south London. If you were convening someone brand-new, saying they had good banter, that was a reasonably high congratulate. Whereas if you dont go along with that material, its seen as, you cant take the chat, you cant take the banter. And its not to be considered as having a stance against it. Its seen as not being able to keep up.
After the rugby squad was disbanded , good-for-nothing much altered in plays night social life. Many members of the club still went on the same darkness out; they are only colonised other squads. They still addressed girlfriends as Sarah 2 or Sarah 8 depending on how attractive they considered them out of 10; they are continuing had shouted speeches about their copulation lives in front of the women they had slept with but refused to acknowledge.
That culture was not confined to Wednesday nights. Anna recollects a person who took her portrait as she slept, naked, in the bunk they were sharing, and circulated it to another non-university plays crew via WhatsApp. She wasnt meant to see it on his phone.
Ask anyone well-informed where joke resides now, and theyll give the same reaction: WhatsApp groups and email yarns, the safe seats of the lad class. What youd get out of those WhatsApp threads, its a different world of drama, one former member of the football club pronounced. The details of girls people that youd read, a few amusing jibes, that was the limit for me. But where reference is moved on to, like, really, really bad trash, always about sex it was too much. Those strands are the source of everything.
If the threads were an store, they were by no means the limit. Banter, by common consent, wasnt confined to lampooning each other: it was about action. If you dressed up for a night out, one girl student remembered, “its just” kind of status quo that you could have your arse grab. It was just like, Oh, that was kind of strange, but OK, thatll happen. Like everybody else willing to speak about it, her position of that culture was perplexingly nuanced, sometimes self-contradictory. It seems spooky, she said, but that tell me anything, some of my best nighttimes were there, and like it was enjoyable. But then she enunciated: What was defined as serious just got so pushed . I envision for someone to lodge a complaint they would have to be actually hurt.
Anna recollects lots of sketchy incidents. She remembers nighttimes when her choices faded into a blur, and she wondered if she had really been in control. But at the time, I would never call it out, she remarked. And then, youre all living in vestibules together, and the next day, its like: What did you do last nighttime? Thats funny. Thats banter.
When Anna thinks about the behaviour of some of “the mens” she knew at university, she find it hard to pin down exactly what she recalls of them. Theres one in particular who sticks in her recollection. On a Wednesday night, he was a joke person, she told. He was a Wednesday animal. But the rest of the time, he was my friend.
Controversial though all this was at the time , no one seems to think that it will have expenditure the perpetrators often. Ive tried so hard to leave all that behind, said the former is part of the football crew. But those guys theyre all going on to run banks, or the two countries, or whatever. The senior rugby boy who numerous held responsible, by the way, has territory on his hoofs. Today, he has a activity at KPMG.
In 2017, every new instance of banter is immediately discerned and put through the journalistic wringer.( Immorality Joel Golby, who wrote the definitive verse on the bagel thing, has made a career from his exquisite close readings of the structure .) But when each new absolute myth rises, we dont typically have the context to shape the essential points finding: do the proponents tend towards the harmless excitement of Ellis and his copulates, or the frank hatred of the LSE rugby boys? Is their affection of irony straightforward, or a mask for something else?
As Richard Keys and Dapper Laughs and their cohorts have polluted the idea of joke, the commercial entities that endorsed its rise had now become uneasy with the label. They wanted it to go viral; they hadnt expected it to runs postal. Dave, for example, has plunged the residence of funny banter slogan. Its not about classic male mood any more, its a bit smarter, alleges UKTVs Steve North. We certainly say it less than we used to.
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