Last Saturday night I did a gig in Bristol where there were three stag parties, one of which had gone to a lot of effort. As I wrote later that night, one of the stag parties had “dressed as Smurfs, (blue paint & white curly wigs – technically inaccurate but visually arresting). The stag was dressed as Smurfette and handcuffed to a dwarf dressed as Papa Smurf. Yes, they’d hired the dwarf. He was being paid to spend the night topless, painted blue and chained to the leader of a cavalcade of cunts. I hope he was being paid a lot.”
I thought a lot about that dwarf over the next few days as I told a number of people about the STAG-SMURF-DWARF menage-a-wrong, which seemed to elicit exactly two reactions. Either the person I told was physically and intellectually appalled at the idea that a stag party had hired a dwarf, painted him blue and chained him to the stag, calling it a moral outrage and a strong indicator of a society in decline; or they thought that it was the best thing in the world.
I even decided that this was to be the point on which I judged all people. I didn’t care about your politics, your religion, your race or gender, just tell me what you think about a stag night hiring, painting and handcuffing a dwarf dressed as Papa Smurf?
Having seen the unhappiness on the dwarf’s face on the night and the behaviour of the stag party, I was siding with the moral outrage people.
I was angry that the stag party thought it was ok to hire someone for that purpose, I was angry for society for condoning the practice and I was even angry with the dwarf for taking the money. What kind of prostitute do you have to be to demean yourself like that? Performing like a clown for a bunch of drunk boorish cunts in blue?
Then I remembered that I’d done exactly that by taking the gig in the first place, and agreeing to perform for two hundred drunk stag and hens. When I realised that the only thing between me and the dwarf was a thin layer of blue paint (and forty inches), I promptly fell off my high horse.
I had initially thought that the stag night’s treatment of the dwarf was insulting, especially to persons of short stature. But then I thought, “why would they give a shit about him just because he’s also short? If he’s stupid enough to take the money, then he gets what he deserves.” I wouldn’t necessarily feel insulted on behalf of another man, or another Australian, or another comedian, if I saw them painted blue and then hand-cuffed to a dick on a night out. Assuming that there is a camaraderie amongst shorter people only serves to perpetuate the idea that it’s an us and them kind of situation.
Perhaps those men were in fact celebrating the dwarf, I mean let’s look at the facts:
1) The dwarf was the only person on the stag night being paid; all the rest of the guys would have been paying hundreds of pounds to be there.
2) The dwarf was drinking for free, whereas all the other men were constantly paid for drinks out of ever-dwindling stashes in their smurf pants.
3) The dwarf was dressed as Papa Smurf, the wisest and most knowledgeable of al the smurfs. This reflects the respect that the other smurfs afforded the dwarf as their spiritual leader.
4) The stag was hand-cuffed to the dwarf, not as punishment or some kind of humiliating hazing, but because by being handcuffed to Papa Smurf, he was constantly attached the wisest and most sensible of all his blue brethren.
In fact hiring the dwarf, dressing him as Papa Smurf and handcuffing him to the stag, was probably the most respectful thing that a bunch of drunk cocks could have done. In light of this, I would like to apologise for any offence caused by my previous post. Having said that, if I was really concerned about not causing offence, I wouldn’t be constantly referring to a person of shorter stature as a dwarf.