Man-erisms

Long-chinned Gubbins

What is it with our fascination for "big" things? Why is it that big = bad, even when it's the most excellent of things, such as monkeys? What's really so bad about a big ape walking about a heavily-populated urban area, clutching a scantily-clad nightclub singer in his monkey hand? Granted, it may cause a few problems for traffic wardens and wheel clampers, but then traffic wardens and wheel clampers are pure evil, and therefore anything that annoys them is most welcome.

For example, why, in the song, are we meant to be afraid of "Big John"? Just because he prefixes his name with the term "Big", doesn't make him anymore bad than, say, TJ Hooker. Okay, so it wouldn't have had quite the same effect if he was just "John", but are we really meant to believe that just because he's dubbed himself "Big", it makes him more significant, or fearsome? Surely "Mega John", "John The Impaler", or "Super John 27" would have been better? But no: Big John had those grizzled rednecks quaking in their urine-soaked boots. I'm sure that Sigmund Freud would have had something interesting to say on the matter, but then he was a pervy Austrian, so who cares what he thought.

Anyway, the bigness-factor strikes again, as a lovely big monkey gets persecuted by a bunch of illiterate hicksville yokels. Possibly.

EXT. THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING

SCIENTIST: Sob! Sob! This is so sad - King Kong has fallen off the building, and is dying.

ANOTHER SCIENTIST: Wait. Look. In the final seconds of his life, King Kong has laid an egg!

SCIENTIST: And the egg is hatching!

ANOTHER SCIENTIST: It's a baby King Kong, who is bigger than his father!

SCIENTIST: Uh-oh! Here we go again!

EXT. NEW YORK

SCIENTIST: Look - there's King Kong, sitting on top of that bus.

ANOTHER SCIENTIST: Hey! Hey, King Kong!

SCIENTIST: What are you doing?!?

ANOTHER SCIENTIST: I'm calling him.

SCIENTIST: We don't want him to see us, you sap. He'll kill us and eat us!

ANOTHER SCIENTIST: And?

SCIENTIST: And we're meant to be studying him. You know: using science.

EXT. NEW YORK

SCIENTIST: Sssh! Don't make a sound. I'm going to sneak up behind King Kong while he's sleeping, and take a blood sample from his buttocks using this giant syringe. Here I go...

ANOTHER SCIENTIST: Arrrgh! A mouse!

SCIENTIST: You idiot! You startled me, and caused me to miss my target.

ANOTHER SCIENTIST: Uh-oh, this is gonna be bad...

KING KONG: King Kong's eyes - see how they water so.

EXT. NEW YORK

SCIENTIST: So you see, King Kong, it would be a lot better for everyone if you just went back to the jungle and stopped smashing stuff.

KING KONG: Kong not understand. Kong just want to paaar-taaaaay!

SCIENTIST: Don't they have parties in the jungle, King Kong?

KING KONG: They do have parties in jungle, but Kong not invited to jungle parties because dinosaurs say Kong get drunk and start fight.

EXT. NEW YORK DOCKS

SCIENTIST: Goodbye, King Kong, and thanks for everything.

KING KONG: Kong going to miss New York. Kong going to miss little man.

SCIENTIST: Oh, cut it out, you big oaf - you'll make this old guy cry. Now get outta here, or you'll miss your boat.

KING KONG: Kong not want to go. Kong stay in New York and open jungle nightclub with little man.

SCIENTIST: Actually, I really think it's best if you just leave.

Do you have any Man stuf? Do you know any of the much-sought-after Man's Daddy Jokes? If you do mail me with it right now, man.

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