The worst joke ever told – inspired by the very British host of ‘It’ll Be Alright’

‘YOU’VE gone a bit British, Da, haven’t you?’ Whah? Our Eldrick gave me quite a start, coming up behind me as I was polishing the family silver in the grand dining hall at Medders Manor. The silver scarcely needed polishing but I had time on my hands and a few pod-casts to catch up on. An old rag soaked in Silvo kept hands occupied while the pod-casts stored on smart phone were stimulation for the mind.

With the phone connected to our son’s boom-box speaker, I was in a happy little world of my own, at least until Eldrick came to retrieve his hardware. The speaker is used by its rightful owner for music – if rap and hip hop may truthfully be described as music – but proved fine with speech too. He arrived while I was absorbed in a documentary about Mexican village life in the shadow of the drug barons.

‘You’ve gone a bit British, Da, haven’t you?’

‘What are you on about? I am enjoying a programme on peasants in Guadalajara.’

‘Yeah but it’s a BBC programme, Da. Unless I am greatly mistaken the first B in BBC stands for British.’

Well, I harrumphed a bit in indignation and put down the Georgian cake-stand I had been rubbing, bridling at any suggestion that my choice of listening could in any way be eroding my Irishness. Many compatriots watch ‘Coronation Street’ or follow Liverpool FC without feeling that their national identity has been compromised. Why should favouring a British radio station and internet broadcaster be any different?

Still, I had to accept that, since discovering pod-casts, the BBC has been filling a great deal of my head space.

Aside from insights into rural Guadalajara or the workings of the ruling BJP party in India, it offers some good satire and great quizzes, all mannah to a talk radio junkie. I have been dependent since childhood in the sixties. Given a choice between ‘Round the Horne’ on BBC and ‘ The Walton’s Programme’ from RTE as she peeled the spuds, mother opted for the Beeb every time.

Now I find myself returning to my British radio roots as I subscribe via pod-cast to a Sherlock Holmes series and the weekly obituary programme. It was through the latter that I learned of the death of humourist and ‘It’ll be Alright on the Night’ presenter Denis Norden at the age of 96. That is the same Denis Norden who used to feature on a BBC radio show called ‘My Word’, another favourite over the potato peelings of yore.

To round off proceedings each week on ‘My Word’, Norden and his protagonist Frank Muir were required to take well known phrases and re-fashion them. For instance: ‘Great oaks from little acorns grow.’ This prompted a story about a visit to the chiropodist with an excruciating foot problem caused by small patches of hardened skin which were perfectly circular. The moral of the story was: ‘Great aches from little O-corns grow.’ Pun-tastic.

So now, in tribute to the late Denis Norden, I present what is probably the worst joke ever told, drawing on the old Jacob’s biscuit advertisement jingle: ‘If you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit, join our Club.’ Feel free to sing along.

Inspiration comes from a round of golf where I was invited to dust off the old niblick and play with friends on an unfamiliar course. The tee-boxes on the first few holes had sponsors but as we hacked and slashed our way further out into the countryside the commercial support dried up. My own golf was woeful, alternating violent pulls to the left with wicked slices to the right, so that much of the afternoon was spent crawling along gripes or ferreting under gorse bushes.

It was noticeable that, each time the ball was retrieved from the rough, it emerged more brown than white. The course is clearly a magnet for wildlife - most likely wildlife with russet coloured pelts and bushy tails, I surmised. the The committee should make a proposition to Jacob’s, suggesting that biscuit makers might like to lend much needed backing under the slightly amended slogan: ‘If you like a lot of fox shit on your mis-hit, join our Club.’ Groan. Now please pass me the forms for those Gael-Linn night classes.