Sic Jokes

Some years ago when I was planning our wedding, one reception venue’s attempt to woo our custom involved the promise of crudities on the menu. Whilst hearing the waiters tell Mr. Lonie’s horrible Aunt Mildred to “Eff off, dragon lady!” instead of offering her an hors d’oeuvre would have filled me with boundless glee, I reluctantly concluded that such a scene would not be setting an appropriate tone for the occasion.

Alas, impish Circumstance had no such thoughts of sparing my blushes the day I frantically searched the university library for any book remotely relevant to an unstarted essay due the next day. The tome I clutched desperately to my chest as I approached the loans desk was so old and obscure it had evaded the library’s computer system, and I was therefore commanded by She Who Must Be Obeyed to fill out a form with the book’s details so it could be duly catalogued. With trepidation I handed her the card, expecting an outraged reaction including immediate ejection from the library and cancellation of borrowing privileges. The name of the author was Dikshit.

Speaking of things in that general homophonic area, I’m of the puerile disposition that is endlessly amused by someone’s confusing ‘prostrate’ and ‘prostate’, but can never understand how Mr. Lonie’s parents manage to do it every single time they’re blithely discussing some friend or other’s medical history in front of me. I amuse myself by imagining Mr. Lonie’s dad during his police days pecking out a report on the typewriter: “…the victim’s prostate form was discovered in the vicinity of the rectory…”

One needn’t look far for the source of my juvenile sense of humour: my family can’t play Trivial Pursuit without recalling the legendary Game of the Misread Question, during which the immortal words, “Does Uranus have aurora?” were met with resounding hilarity. We still snigger about it after all these years.

I maintain the humble hope that you, Dear Reader, will similarly find this post worthy of the anals of history.