Sir P Speaks: Public enemies number one

Dear Sir Partridge

Why are cyclists the way they are? Why are they so scrawny? Lycra seems like a miracle material if you dislike chafing but why can’t it have a proper use? I mean, cyclists aren’t exactly criminals (or are they?) but can’t something be done? Perhaps you should write a book on this urgent issue.

Yours
Nogbert Frump

vintage-cyclist

Hello Nogbert

Firstly, let me congratulate you for making so little effort to disguise the fact that you’re actually me. As a pathological narcissist, it’s a constant relief that since starting this valuable column I have thus far not had to offer advice to anyone but myself.

As it happens I am indeed tempted to write a novel that deals with cycling and the danger it poses. It would be a dystopian vision of life beyond peak oil when bicycles are the only form of transport, and even they are at a premium. Only the rich can afford them and so find it relatively easy to escape the zombies. Fortunately, there emerges from the pedestrian under-herd a visionary quasi-superhero called Partridge Man who leads a successful rebellion against the cyclist overlords. But then here’s the twist, see – he and his fellow non-cycling humans avoid the zombies need to outrun the zombies. How do they do this? Why, cycling of course. Quickly Partridge Man and his minions are scooting about on their Malvern Stars as smugly and vigorously as the very people they overthrew. How ironic! How original! And an original plot requires an original title. Animal Velodrome?

Anyway, the point is that the above plot raises one of the key problems with hating cyclists: that on paper at least cycling is a wonderful thing – it’s good for you (until you fall off) and it’s good for the environment (yawn). So any serious attempt to ban cycling has to find some way to skirt these issues.

The reason it is necessary to take such a harsh line at all is the deep ideological divide that separates cyclists from normal people. This is most evident on so-called shared walkway/cycle-paths, which provide cyclists with countless opportunities to close in on their stealth vehicles of death, whip past you with half an inch to spare and abuse you roundly for using your legs in a manner inconsistent with their world view.

So, the only way for sanity to prevail is for one to yield to the other. This can be achieved through a grand exercise in reverse psychology. Things need to be made mandatory. In effect, a system needs to be introduced in which anyone who does not embrace cycling and all it represents would be purged. All forms of non-cycling transport, including walking, would be banned. Wearing any clothing apart from lycra bib-and-brace onesies with Goretex over-panties would see you straight up against the wall. Dissent along the lines of ‘Christ, my bum and quadriceps are sore’ or ‘Why do these bloody things keep getting punctures?’ or ‘I have nicely developed calf muscles but the rest of me is emaciated’ will result in you being sent to a re-education camp in Coober Pedy.

It is only when we experience the true horror of a state in which the tedious good sense of cycling is taken to its logical extreme that the scales will fall from the eyes of all but the most ardent admirer of that two-wheeled instrument of torture and woe.

And what obese quasi-superhero would lead the people as they rise up against the state and restore civilisation to the utopia it is today? Well, I think we all know the answer to that one.

Gormley

 

Conan Elphicke

Sir Partridge Gormley’s emissions are rendered as coherent as they can be by the ever-patient @ConanElphicke. If you are confused and bewildered, and we suspect you are, by all means send your queries to thecringeblog@gmail.com.

The (Super)Hero’s Journey

(Or, what we can learn from the rise of the caped avenger)

superhero picThe hero, it seems, will never die. From the ancient empire-creating adventures of Odysseus to the poetic quests of Sir Gawain, masterpieces that have truly stood the test of time have been tantalisingly heroic. Why? People like them.

Fast-forward a millennium or two and the narrative world is overrun with neon spandex and flying shields. Almost forty superhero blockbusters have been released since 2000. One has even made it into the top ten most popular movies of all time (according to the IMDb). Guardians of the Galaxy is already at 8.5 (at time of print) placing it on the same rung as Taxi Driver, American Beauty, even Citizen Kane. And this is a movie that features Bradley Cooper (two-time Oscar nominee) as a talking raccoon.

A talking raccoon.

Let’s not get into a debate about what is literary and what is not, and the fact that movies are a visual medium so of course everything with flash-bangs is going to be popular. And before you roll your eyes and go on about the difference between quality cinema and blockbuster material, and how you yourself have never even seen Spider-Man (the first or the second or the third, or the remake or the sequel of the remake), consider what the facts are telling us: people like them.

So a superhero movie has never been listed on the AFI’s Top 100, or taught in any serious cinema course, or even won an Oscar for anything besides technical production (except for Heath Ledger, but come on, he was astounding) but that doesn’t mean we, serious people who read Booker-prize-winning novels, can’t learn us a lesson or two about What People Want From Their Stories…

  1. A hero. Simple. A guy or girl who is strong or tough or can do awesome shit, and will pretty much save the entire known universe. Probably in New York City.
  1. A vulnerable lead. One with flaws and a past and tough, personal choices to make (italics necessary). Self-doubt is the key. A tragic orphaned upbringing? Great! If they have to sacrifice their greatest love/best friend/mentor/home planet or even a limb in the course of true justice, even better!
  1. Crazy, made-up shit (as long as it’s justified (or sometimes even if it’s not)). People love it. They love stupidly-named planets and weird teleport gateways, and bizarre fighting implements. They love flying submarine-ships, rocket-powered suits, web-swingers, or guys who can just plain fly (of course he can fly, he’s from Krypton!). They love alternate universes, mythological gods, magic crystals and glowing blue cubes of whatever-the-hell-that-is. The weirder, the better. Our audience may be getting more sophisticated, but they’ll never be too sophisticated for crazy, made-up shit.
  1. A good villain. Gone are the days when the bad guy is just a two-dimensional bad guy bad guy (or girl). No, no, no. There must be a reason. They must be vengeful, or misunderstood, or mistreated, or horribly disillusioned, or just plain unfortunate. Or played by Tom Hiddleston. That helps.
  1. A kick-ass supporting cast, not just a sidekick anymore. The funny-guy is mandatory. It’s even better if they can all crack a joke at some point. A range of genders, ethnic backgrounds, fighting abilities, and/or species is appreciated. The quasi-mentor who the audience gets attached to and then dies is always a winner (hey, you can always bring him back in the TV series).
  1. A dark ending. Is the hero dead? Did the bad guy win? Is our world destroyed? Is all hope really lost? Think The Empire Strikes Back, then add some more budget.
  1. Intertextuality and framed narratives (now we’re getting there, lit nerds). What’s better than one superhero? More superheroes! Get them together and let them push each other’s buttons. Develop a bromance or two. Run out of ideas? Write it again, only different! Create entire histories that no-one cared about before. Let worlds collide. There’s nothing a character-loving audience likes better than you exploring their what-ifs for them.
  1. A never-ending chain-link of narrative hooks. Damn you, black screen chapter-break, I want to know what happens next! How could they possibly resolve this terrible situation when there’s only ten minutes left?! No, that can’t be the end! What if that is the end? Surely there will be another sequel! Who was that guy we saw at the end of the credits? Who the heck was that? Tell us!
  1. Themes, themes, give us righteous themes! Good vs evil. Power vs sacrifice. Pride vs humility. The big guy vs the underdog. Forgive yourself! Let go of the past! Work as a team! Please, just teach us something about the nature of humanity.

A closing thought. James Joyce (arguably the best novelist who ever lived) based his masterpiece Ulysses on the heroic epic that started them all: The Odyssey. If he were alive today he might be tempted to write an indecipherable, genre-mash-up, satirical epic based on the formative years of Rocket Raccoon. Well, you never know.

And if it’s good enough for him? Well, then it’s good enough for you.

Elise Janes