Roddy Phillips

Inflating like the Michelin Man and fit to burst

Apparently I have a talent for yawning. I also have a talent for sleeping.

In fact my wife says I could fall asleep on a clothes line, but I can’t verify it, although sometimes I think she’d like me to try.

So I suppose you can understand my wife’s concern when ever she caught me yawning, she naturally assumed I was about to fall asleep and who was I to argue?

She didn’t actually say as much – she just kept elbowing me and reminding me that it was rude to yawn in public.

I kept telling her that yawning was a sign of being totally relaxed in someone’s company.

“It’s because you pose no outward threat,” I said, unconvincingly.

That wasmy official line. Off the record, openly yawning in public could mean a certain lack of inhibition. Unfortunately I can’t help it and neither can reptiles, most mammals and even some birds.

I’ve even considered buying a cat so I can yawn around the house because I’ve heard cats love it when you yawn at them, apparently they think it’s a chat-up line.

Having said that I’m not keen on the tonsil inspection yawn we often encounter while late-night supermarket shopping, that’s mostly the staff of course.

According to anthropologists yawning is a serious business and an important part of our body language, first developed as a subconscious signal to the rest of the group that it was time to change the channel, and it still is.

However, thanks to my wife’s vigilance, most of my yawning never sees the light of day.

Through repeated practice, I’ve developed a highly effective reverse yawn that is almost undetectable apart from a very slightly constipated expression and a distinct rolling of the eyes.

Whenever I feel the urge to yawn I keep my trap shut and literally suck it up.

It’s not in the slightest bit satisfying, in fact it’s downright tricky absorbing a yawn but at least it prevents me going home from a wedding with a bruised rib.

As a sort of tribute tomy wife, I even do it when she’s not around.

I suppose this is what some women would call training and they would be right.

I call it my un-yawn, which doesn’t sound that great when you say it out loud.

Unfortunately the un-yawn goes against every fibre of your body and there is always that nagging thought that you’ve been cheated out of something.

It also has a more serious physical downside, the un yawn power has to go somewhere so eventually I feel as if I’m inflating like the Michelin Man and fit to burst.

I find theatres and cinemas are the best venues for perfecting my un-yawn.

After 30 years reviewing theatre, mostly on my own, I learned to yawn discreetly behind my programme, unless of course my wife accompanied me.

Unfortunately my wife hasan unnerving knack of coming along to boring shows. She is the Typhoid Mary of the theatrical world.

She’s so accurate at picking turkeys my heart sinks when she announces she’s joining me for the evening.

“Oh I fancy seeing that,” she says excitedly and I think ‘great, two-and-a-half hours of bum numbing purgatory’.

Last week’s theatre outing started off well but after the interval it sailed straight into a ‘dead calm’.

About 10 minutes later I realised something strange had happened to my wife. She had her head bowed low and she was shuddering as if her engine was on but she had nowhere to go.

I asked her quietly if she was all right but she just nodded, keeping her head down.

Meanwhile I soldiered on bravely trying to eke out some interest from the play while sucking up a mounting onslaught of un-yawns.

At one point I felt dizzy and thought I was going to pass out so I started glugging down my bottle of water.

My wife suddenly asked for a drink and produced a hanky so she could wipe her face. For a moment I thought she was so moved by the play she had started crying. But then she glanced up and I realised she was laughing so hard she couldn’t sit still.

Apparently with my constipated expression and my eyes rolling around while I un yawned myself, I was more entertaining than the play.

“You’ve got to laugh, haven’t you?” she whispered, then promptly fell asleep with her head tipped back and her mouth wide open.

The applause eventually woke her up.

“That was fantastic,” she yawned loudly, stretching her arms wide, “I had a really wonderful nap, did you?”

I realised something strange had happened to my wife. She had her head bowed low and she was shuddering as if her engine was on but she had nowhere to go.