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Punchline
It had always been my ambition to become a comedy writer, like my hero Antoine Horchner, the famous comedian. I admired his ability to take irreverent daily commentary and turn it into surrealist visual poetry, leading us through aural paths and tunnels and dodging the obvious punch lines for ones that blindsided you one after another as the stage show culminated in raucous laughter.
When I started my new job I discovered soon afterwards that one of my colleagues was the webmaster of Antoine's website and I spent ages devising some way of dropping the perfect joke into his lap so that he might mention it to Antoine, credit me with it and maybe I could follow in the footsteps of my idol. Eventually I told him one I had crafted over several months, involving a teaspoon, an escaped panther and a chauffeur wearing lingerie under his suit. It would take too long to write it out fully here, but understand that this had nuance and subtext and timing and everything a good anecdote requires.
"Tell me that one again" Sergio said and took notes second time around. I felt certain that it would make its way to Antoine now. Sure enough Sergio came looking for me a week later. Did I have any more? "Lots!" I lied. Sergio handed me a card with an address and a phone number but no name on it.
I called the number that night and immediately recognised the voice of Antoine Horchner on the other end of the line. He sounded weary and hung over although it was only seven in the evening but that didn't stop him from inviting me round for drinks. I spent half an hour in the street outside his house just psyching myself up.
"I'm really one of your greatest fans" I extolled when he opened the door, ashen faced, holding a cigarette and shuffling along in his slippers. I got a distinct Krusty the Clown vibe from him but tried to suppress it, this was Antoine Horchner in person after all, the man who tears apart religion on stage between parables about furry animals, who does the best impersonations of Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry arguing with Bambi about gun control, and can break out into songs with words that sound like they should be rude but really aren't.
"Come on in, we'll get you started" he said and motioned for me to follow him down the hall. We passed a dining room, a living room, a guest bedroom before we arrived at the library. Inside were three other people, all a little older than me.
"This is Kate, Richard and Dan. Kate writes the religious animal stuff, Dick works out the impersonations and Dan rhymes all my songs up for me. Guys this is D, he'll be writing stuff about cross-dressing chauffeurs being attacked by escaped animals for silverware for the next show. Show him where the coffee is and try and keep the noise down."
Dec.19.2006