The Great Fish and Chips Gatsby
THERE’S good news to report from the streets of High Dudgeon, that oncegrand metropolis of indignation, hit by hard times since its main product fell out of fashion — what with the advent of inclusive democracy, political correctness and all that.
I’m referring, of course, to the upperclass insult, which, like the ostrich feathers of Oudtshoorn, is making a comeback. Citizens rejoice!
All the best posh insults come from books. In the annals of effrontery, a wellturned insult stolen from the page, or inspired by literature’s rogue’s gallery of characters, is king of the beasts. If you happen to fall within earshot as, for example, a quote from Oscar Wilde is flung at its target, you’ll have a gem to polish over coffee for days.
This is true even if you are said target, as I shall demonstrate. It’s the literary awards season in South Africa — the only time of year when book people get to dress up. We gather in grand spaces to cheer the unveiling of shortlists and the announcement of winners while pouring alcohol down our gullets. Then we meet by the fireplace to sing standards from Solid Gold Weekend. (Actually, I made that last part up.) On one such occasion recently, I was minding my own business being a perfectly obnoxious gadfly when a woman standing nearby looked me over, appraised my off-the-rack suit and polyester scarf and said, with just the right blend of mischief and venom: “You look like a cheap imitation Gatsby.”
It was as though I’d been revived with smelling salts. It was suddenly exciting to be alive. High noon on the streets of High Dudgeon and I had just been disarmed by a crack shot!
Elsewhere, there is further evidence that it’s once more acceptable to offend people openly with highbrow zingers. A book journalist in London has singlehandedly brought the word “cockhat” back into circulation by writing to a disgruntled photographer that “life is too short to deal with cockhats like you”. Cue outrage — and a new hashtag on Twitter.
Locally, I would like to see the return of “stoepkakker ”. Not only is it a word that will shut someone up in an instant, but it’s also just infectiously fun to say. At a dinner party a few weeks back, we invented the firm of Stoepkakker, Ploert and Soutpiel, prokureurs . Who wouldn’t hire them? (Ok, everyone.)
Insults, once given, double as gifts, because they can be re-gifted. They can be tinkered with, too, like a bar of music. Lately I’ve been working on the Gatsby variations. My favourite so far comes with optional peri-peri sauce. You guessed right: somewhere, soon, some puffed-up fellow will be called a great fish-and-chips Gatsby.
We are, come to think of it, living in an age of great fish-and-chips Gatsbys: men who have the ill-gotten riches of F Scott Fitzgerald’s unforgettable character, but not his intelligence or style. There goes one now, in a Porsche Panamera.
If you don’t know what the original fish and chips gatsby is, then you are not a great South African. There: I hope I’ve dispatched some of you off to the streets of High Dudgeon (or at least to the takeaway). Keep your hands off my insults, though, or you’ll be hearing from my prokureurs .
Link love: Prufrock Magazine
At the recent Franschhoek Literary Festival,
Prufrock , the latest lit-mag on the block, was a hit. Let us go then, you and I, and follow them on Twitter: @Prufrockmag. And indeed there will be time for their tumblr too: http://prufrockthemagazine.tumblr.com. • Ben Williams is the books editor. Write to books@sundaytimes.co.za or @benrwms with your comments on the new-look books pages. Insults welcome too.