Friday 11 April 2014

J - Jester

Many people have made a deliberate point of telling that I am a funny guy.  Occasionally, people will just stop in the street and burst out laughing when they see me, usually accompanied with rigorous pointing and snapping photos on their phones.  It makes me feel special.  Special enough that the laws surrounding trousers do not apply to me anymore, which only seems to fuel the laughter.  In that regard, I decided that I should really be profiting from all of the enjoyment I bring to the world, so I took the only logical step and became a court jester.

In this day and age of YouTube spoofs and post-ironic parody shows that are far too sophisticated for you and I to understand, the idea of a court jester may seem out-dated and somewhat silly.   But isn’t that the whole point of a jester?  Basically, I exist so that others feel good about themselves.  I can live with that, if they’re willing to pay me.

Typical, practical jester uniform


So I applied to become a royal court jester, which is the Grand Prix of jestering.  In fact, it’s basically the only establishment since medieval times (including the themed restaurant Medieval Times) that actually employs jesters.  I had to attend jester boot camp with seven other foolish hopefuls.  We were forced to run through minefields of confetti, test our accuracy with a water-squirting flower, and withstand barrages of custard pies to the face.  The course providers had sent us to clown school, since there’s no such thing as jester boot camp.  I felt sickened and demeaned by the whole affair.

Once the course was complete, we were given our bell-laden overalls and jester’s stick.  My outfit was green and yellow, which I felt complemented my eyes in a way that would become apparent when my pleading face begged for laughter and approval.  We were immediately put on a rota to entertain the Queen.  My day of reckoning would come the day after next, making me the second person in line to entertain her majesty.

The guy before me, Andrew, was the first person set to entertain her maj.  I watched him throughout training and he was simply sublime.  His falling technique far surpassed any of the other students on the course, and when he gets chased around a table in a slapstick fashion; his gait and poise are like poetry in motion.  I couldn’t allow him to go first and upstage me.  How could I follow such an act?  Comedy is serious business.  I conceived the inconceivable and I resolved to take out the competition.

Taking Andrew out without getting the blame would be difficult.  I would have stage an incident that would look like an accident, which would require all of my cunning, treachery and guile.  That’s why I ran into his room at midnight and hit him with a hammer.

With my main rival out of the way, I was free to become the greatest jester in the history of jestering.  My superiors would have fired me if they didn’t need someone to fill in for Andrew at the last minute, but I knew that my performance would win them round.  That was until the guy due to perform after me ran into my room at midnight and hit me with a hammer.  If you live by the hammer, you should be prepared for hammer attacks really.  Not getting hammer-proof clothing was a mistake on my part, one which has landed me in hospital, sucking nutrition through a tube.  At least it’s strawberry flavoured.  YUM!

10 comments:

  1. I think Jesters have it pretty rough. It takes a lot of skill to be "on" and be funny all the time. I can see why it would have a high murder rate. You can't have someone upstage you. It's damn near impossible to get a jester gig these days. If you don't get it, you have to move to a whole other country to start again. I bet the pay is pretty bad too.

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    1. They pay you with custard pies-oh wait, that's clowns again.

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  2. Luckily, jester's die in odd ways everyday. They end up tangled and strangled to death in chandeliers after attempting a trampoline goof. They die from third degree facial burns when being hit in the face by a pie right out of the oven. They die when their bells jingle and attract the town's local pride of lions. Being hit by a hammer probably wouldn't garner any attention. No foul play will be suspected, I'd assume.

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    1. I guess there are much more inventive ways to kill someone, but I don't think you can beat the subtle charm of a good hammer attack.

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  3. jesters are the funny cats who get cut down for being whimsical...

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    1. Do they literally get cut down? I didn't see much knife crime when I was a jester, but I did see a few hammer attacks.

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  4. I rather look forward to seeing you jest in court, judges like a humourous villain sorry joker (as in The Joker) . . . . Anyway you did forget one rather important piece of jesting equipment that was very popular back in the day. . . . . I refer to the inflated pigs bladder tied to a length of string and then tied to a stick. O yes the royals always loved a good pigs blander before Eastenders turned up and they could watch an entire TV show full of actors who they consider the next best thing to a pigs bladder. . .

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    1. That's the best way I've heard Eastenders described.

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  5. I love this post. When I was a kid my older brother tangled constantly with my overbearing mother. When my turn came I figured there had to be a better way so I decided to become a court jester in our household. Before long I could get away with saying anything because Mom thought I was just being funny. Few jesters lost their heads mouthing off at their royal patrons.

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    1. So if you do things in a funny way, you can get away with anything?

      *goosesteps into a bank*

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