Funny Ha, Ha

by Paul Merton

  ‘It is better that I don’t,’ replied Peppone with some force. ‘If I did, that Barabbas would be going around with both his eyes as black as his miserable soul. That vandal has been having his fun with me for twelve days – I’m certain it’s always the same one – and now I’m warning him, it’s gone far enough. He’d better watch out, because if I get hold of him it’ll be the Messina earthquake all over again. And now I’m going to print some notices and put them up on every street corner, so he and his gang can’t miss them.’

  Don Camillo shrugged.

  ‘I’m not a printer,’ he said. ‘What’s it got to do with me? Go and find someone with a printing press.’

  ‘I’ve already done that,’ replied Peppone darkly. ‘But since I don’t like making an ass of myself, you’d better have a look at the draft of the announcement before Barchini prints it.’

  ‘But Barchini’s no fool. If there was something wrong with it, he’d have told you.’

  ‘You think so?’ Peppone gave a bitter laugh. ‘He’s the next worst thing to a priest… I mean, he’s just as reactionary, black as his miserable soul. Even if he saw that I’d written “heart” with two aitches, he wouldn’t think twice about making me look small.’

  ‘But you’ve got your men,’ returned Don Camillo.

  ‘Do you really think I’m going to stoop so low as to let my inferiors correct me? Besides, it would be a joke. They don’t have half the alphabet between them.’

  ‘Let’s see it then,’ said Don Camillo. And Peppone gave him the proof sheet.

  ‘Well, blunders aside, the tone does seem a bit strong.’

  ‘Too strong?’ cried Peppone. ‘He’s a damn lowlife, he’s a hooligan, he’s such a scoundrel of an agent provocateur that if I was to write it the way he deserves I’d need two dictionaries!’

  Don Camillo picked up his pencil and carefully corrected the draft.

  ‘Now go over the corrections in pen,’ he said when he’d finished.

  Peppone looked sadly at the paper covered with squiggles and crossings out.

  ‘To think that wretch Barchini told me it was all fine… How much do I owe you?’

  ‘Nothing. I’d rather you kept the whole thing under your hat. I don’t like the idea of anyone knowing I do work for the Department of Propaganda.’

  ‘I’ll send you some eggs.’

  Peppone left, and Don Camillo went to put his conscience to rest before the altar, before going to bed himself.

  ‘Thank you for giving him the idea of coming to see me.’

  ‘It’s the least I could do,’ replied Jesus, smiling. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘A bit tricky, but fine. He doesn’t have the slightest idea that it was me yesterday evening.’

  ‘Oh yes he does,’ retorted Jesus. ‘He knows perfectly well it was you. All twelve times. He even saw you on a couple of evenings. Stay alert, Don Camillo: think seven times before writing “Peppone’s an ass”!’

  ‘When I go out I’ll leave my pencil behind,’ promised Don Camillo solemnly.

  ‘Amen,’ concluded Jesus, smiling.

  DO I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE A HOMOSEXUAL, SIR?

  Saleem Haddad

  Saleem Haddad (1983–) was born in Kuwait City to an Iraqi-German mother and a Palestinian-Lebanese father. He has worked with Médecins Sans Frontières and other international organizations in Yemen, Syria, Iraq, Libya, Lebanon and Egypt. His debut novel, Guapa, received critical acclaim from the New Yorker, the Guardian and others. Haddad was selected as one of the top 100 Global Thinkers of 2016 by Foreign Policy magazine. He currently divides his time between London and the Middle East.

  You might want to wear a floral sweatshirt. It will make you appear more optimistic. The one you have on from H&M is certainly a statement piece. Nothing says ‘FUN’ like a beige sweatshirt with enormous lavender and pink flower prints. You might be thinking that such high street attire might appear basic, perhaps a bit ‘terrorist-y’ even. But don’t pontificate about fashion choices. It’s too late for that now. You think a floral sweatshirt is going to change the fact that your middle name is Muhammad? We’re too far gone for that. No, the sweatshirt is intended to make you seem easy, breezy, cover girl, and that’s the vibe you need to project right now.

  If you want to get on this flight you’ll have to follow my instructions carefully. First, stand up when they announce that they’ve begun to board passengers. Be cool. Maybe smooth out that sweatshirt. Pick up your bag. Glance at the ticket. But only a casual glance. The gate is there… and do you see him? That man in the suit, clean-shaven, buzzed haircut. Yes, the one with his hands in his pockets, standing just behind the stewardess who is checking boarding passes with an ennui so devastating it’s poetic. That’s him.

  Don’t make eye contact.

  Approach the stewardess. Act natural. Smile… wait, not that widely.

  You’re showing too much teeth, you look like a lunatic. There you go. Now hand the woman your boarding pass. She will scan your ticket with her machine. The machine will beep. That’s it. It beeped. Stay calm. She’s going to check your seat number against the list on her notepad, and any minute now…

  ‘Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step aside and speak to this gentleman behind me.’

  What, did you think you were getting upgraded’? Oh habibi, please. Now smile and say…

  ‘That’s absolutely fine.’

  There you go. And there he is. The man. Standing between you and the air bridge leading to the plane.

  ‘Good evening, sir. I work for the US Department of Homeland Security. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions before you board the flight.’

  If you took my advice you should be about two Valiums deep right about now. Don’t act overly friendly, but don’t be too standoffish either. That’s what the Valium is for.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Have we stopped you before?’

  Of course they’ve stopped you. Every time you fly to the US they’ve stopped you. But don’t get smart…

  ‘Sometimes…’

  ‘We do random checks.’

  Yes, I realise this is patronising…

  ‘I understand. You guys are mostly nice.’

  ‘We try to be, sir. What is the purpose of your trip to the US?’

  Don’t overthink this. Just say something like…

  ‘Vacation.’

  Flawless.

  ‘What do you intend to do while you’re in the country?’

  Your itinerary reveals everything about your character, so think this through carefully. Disneyland is good, but also difficult to pull off unless you’ve got kids. Americans always appreciate shopping, especially if you can name a few stores. Museums are also good. Everyone knows that terrorists don’t like culture. Less appreciated are any references to buildings or landmarks: the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the Golden Gate Bridge. These kinds of places scream terrorist.

  ‘I’ll be in New York for the week. I’m probably going to do some shopping… maybe see a show. Then I’ll spend about a day or so in my Airbnb doing some productive crying. I also want to check out this ramen place in Brooklyn I saw on Instagram.’

  Nice touch with the ramen.

  ‘Do you know anyone in New York?’

  Look, I don’t want no ‘Ahmad’ or ‘Ali’ or ‘Zubaida’. Give me a Mary! Give me a Jonathan! Give me an Angela! Give me an Andrew! Give me blonde hair, blue eyes, vanilla skin! Give me someone who knows how to ski! Give me—

  ‘No. I’ll be alone.’

  Well that explains the crying.

  ‘And when were you last in the United States?’

  ‘About a year ago.’

  ‘Can you tell me which countries you’ve visited in the last twelve months?’

  Here we go. Now start with the good countries…

  ‘I travel a lot for work.’

  ‘Try and remember what you can, sir.’

  I think Switzerland is a good one
to start with. But wait isn’t Europe overrun with Muslims? Okay, somewhere else. How about Malaysia? No, that’s an Islamic country. Taiwan? Yes, Taiwan. No Muslims there. Go with Taiwan!

  ‘Lebanon…’

  ‘Lebanon?’

  Really? Lebanon. That’s the country you chose to start with?

  ‘Yes. Lebanon.’

  ‘What was the purpose of your travel to Lebanon?’

  ‘Seeing friends.’

  ‘And, sir, while you were in Lebanon, did you travel to any Hezbollah strongholds?’

  Well you did sleep with that guy from Dahiyeh that you found on Grindr. He wasn’t a Hezbollah supporter but he certainly had quite a ‘strong hold’ on you, pardon the pun. The first question he asked was which sect you were from and the second was whether you were a top or a bottom… Got to love the Lebanese.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where else have you travelled?’

  Give yourself a break, hayati…

  ‘Paris. Milan. Ibiza. Dubai…’

  Good boy.

  ‘Hong Kong…’

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Ummm…’

  Now it just looks like you’re hiding something…

  ‘Jordan, Turkey, Egypt…’

  There you go. Just let it all out.

  ‘Libya.’

  ‘Libya?’

  LIBYA?!

  ‘Yes. Libya.’

  ‘And what was the purpose of your trip to Libya?’

  Make something up. Anything.

  ‘I work between Libya and London…’

  ‘Why is that?’

  No, please… Don’t say it.

  ‘I work for my father’s company. My father is Libyan.’

  Oh honey. Tell him you’ve always wanted to go into fashion. Show him your Internet history. Do something, anything, to wash the Libya off you.

  ‘Sir, do you have any other passports other than your British passport?’

  Zip it.

  ‘Not on me.’

  ‘But do you have any?’

  Not a word. Nothing.

  ‘I have a Libyan passport.’

  ‘May I see it?’

  Please tell me you didn’t bring it with you. Have I taught you nothing?

  ‘I didn’t bring it with me.’

  Allabu Akbar, you’re finally listening to me!

  ‘Do you know, or have met with, any Islamist individuals or groups in your line of work in Libya?’

  No. Nothing. Nada.

  ‘No.’

  ‘And personal life?’

  Quick and easy…

  ‘None.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘What do you mean exactly by “know”?’

  You’re thinking of that guy you had under the bridge, aren’t you? The Misratan militia dude. Well, that’s what you assumed he was, with his gun and his beard and his swagger. Kind of ‘Islamic-y’, I suppose, even if he did let you run your fingers through his beard.

  ‘What do you mean by “what do you mean”?’

  Wait, what are you doing? You didn’t even have sex with him! That doesn’t count as ‘know’. In gay terms that barely counts as ‘met’!

  ‘I met some guy who was part of a Misratan militia. I guess it was an Islamic militia but I don’t know the name of it.’

  I give up.

  ‘Just met, sir?’

  You nearly had him, too. But then he asked if anyone had penetrated you before. You told the truth and he left, saying he only sleeps with virgins. Learned your lesson, didn’t you? There are about fifty men walking around Libya right now thinking they’ve taken your virginity…

  ‘Well… a bit more I suppose.’

  … You’re such a good actor. Trying to act all in pain. They hold you tenderly and say ‘It’s okay habibi, just relax and push, like you’re making kaka…’

  ‘What do you mean by “a bit more”?’

  Don’t say it.

  ‘I gave him a blowjob.’

  Well, there we go. It’s all out now, isn’t it?

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I performed oral sex on him.’

  He treated you with a roughness that was at moments tender, with a touch of pity that you had failed to reach his levels of manliness… Not so much like a man treats a woman, rather like a father would treat his stunted child…

  ‘Do I understand that you are a homosexual, sir?’

  Someone give this genius a Nobel Prize.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘And can someone be both a Libyan and a homosexual?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘Sir, as you know with the new regulations, I have to ask you this…’

  Here’s your chance. Flap your wrists and tell him you’ve been exiled. Regale him with tales of ‘suffering’. Don’t you want to try that ramen place?

  ‘… do you feel yourself to be more Libyan, or more homosexual?’

  Okay, let’s think about this carefully. I suppose your penis feels more homosexual. Doesn’t your penis have a Cindy Crawford mole? That’s such a homosexual thing for a penis to have… but then do you remember when you picked up that twink in that club in Soho, and you didn’t know he was Israeli until you were both naked and staring at each other’s circumcised penises, and then you finally noticed the Star of David tattoo on his wrist?

  ‘Umm, do you want me to give percentages?’

  ‘Well, I suppose that would help, sir.’

  … Sure, that night you were both drunk enough and laughed it off. His lips were gorgeous and you spent the night making out. But, the next morning before you left, you wrote your name down so he could add you on Facebook. When he did, you went through his photos and there was a photo album dedicated to his military service, and you secretly wished you had fucked him so that perhaps you could have done your bit to liberate Palestine (is this your internalised misogyny talking?). Your penis felt very Libyan then, didn’t it?

  ‘I’ll say 90 per cent homosexual and 10 per cent Libyan.’

  ‘And, sir, like, in your heart… does the 10 per cent that is Libyan have positive feelings towards America?’

  The flight is closing. Tell him about your Cindy Crawford mole!

  ‘To be honest, America makes me feel anxious.’

  What is it with you Arabs always making life difficult for yourselves?

  ‘Anxiety over what? Like because of our freedoms?’

  ‘No, because of your freeways. They are enormous and never-ending.’

  ‘They are indeed, sir. Much like our freedoms. Anyway, thank you for your cooperation. Enjoy your trip.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Say… it must be tough to be a homosexual over there, no? So much hate and fear…’

  I told you the floral sweatshirt would work.

  ISLAM IS NOT SPIRITUAL, BUT IT IS A USEFUL IDENTITY

  Omar Hamdi

  Omar Hamdi (1990–) is a Welsh-Egyptian TV presenter, comedian and writer. He grew up in Cardiff before moving to London to perform stand-up full-time. He has completed a national UK tour, as well as performing at various festivals and clubs around the world. He has been recommended by the National Union of Journalists as ‘a talented comic commentator on topical events,’ and by the Telegraph for his ‘shrewd insights into multiculturalism.’

  Researchers at SSIC (School for the Study of Inferior Cultures) at London University have concluded, after an extensive one-week study, that Islam is ‘just a useful identity’ and ‘not a spiritual tradition’.

  Mariam Amélie, who led the study, said, ‘There are some people out there who think Islam is a spiritual tradition, concerned with matters such as combating the ego, selflessness and purification of the heart. They’re wrong. The results from our study undisputedly show that Islam is in actual fact, technically, an identity – like being black, or a goth (they’re black too, but the first time I was talking about skin, not clothes).’

  Ms Amélie’s findings were welcomed by Dr Tariq Shaban of the campaign gr
oup Muslims with Attitude (MWA): ‘It’s very seventh century to think of Islam as a spiritual tradition – that’s the kind of stuff Prophet Muhammad actually taught. I actually prefer to think of Islam as an identity. I’m a proud British Muslim – as of last week (the British bit, I mean). There’s nowhere else in the world where I would be able to get so many angry brown people together to attend demonstrations on such a regular basis as in Britain. Most of those attending our demonstrations don’t actually pray. The most important command in Islam is to be angry. And it is such a universal way of life – you can be angry about anything you like – Israel, Syria, silly cartoons… This is what makes it superior to western culture, where people are only allowed to be angry about unimportant things, like Oscar winners or dead gorillas.’

  The long-awaited findings have been welcomed by politicians from across the political spectrum. Lianne Abbott MP, head of the All Party Parliamentary Group on Box-Ticking, said, ‘I have a lot of Muslim constituents, so the more we can make them into a homogenous group without any individual opinions, the easier it is for me to stay in my seat in parliament – and I’m not planning on getting up any time soon. I welcome Ms Amélie’s findings. She might even be made a Baroness on account of her labours (although she categorically hasn’t been promised anything by our party leader).’

  On the other side of the political divide, Lord Crinklebottom, founder of the BEAS (British Empire Appreciation Society), said, ‘It makes much more sense to me that those bloody brown people have an identity – like a tribe – rather than a religion with actual spirituality, literature and music. Otherwise, they’d be just like Christians, and we all know that’s simply not true is it?’

  Ms Amélie has been forced to defend claims that her research lacks rigour. ‘People think I don’t know anything about Islam because I’m not a Muslim. But that’s a spurious allegation because my ex is half Moroccan, and I love shisha, so I feel very close to the community. Plus, my father owns a house in Spain and that was ruled by the Moorish caliphate until 1492, so I understand ISIS better than anyone. Better than they understand themselves, in fact.

  ‘I just want people to realise how great Islam is – as an identity of course, not as an actual spiritual tradition. Last year I told people I actually was Muslim, and it was amazing for my career. I was on TV, like, every Sunday morning, and all I had to do was put one of mum’s Gucci pashminas on my head, and act angry. I’ve heard that if I go ‘full-time Muslim’ I could get tenure at Cambridge. It worked for Dr Shaban – he’s got his own section at Waterstones shops up and down the country. Right now, I’m working on a hijabi dating show for a well-known youth channel – it’s so important to raise awareness that girls in headscarves can be quite shaggable, especially considering the toxic rhetoric around Brexit. I would hope that one day members of the UK Separation Party will swipe right on a hijabi – far right. We’re talking to Nike about a sponsorship deal.’