Carry On Kenneth
I like to think of myself as a cultured sort of person. I genuinely love (and worship) Charles Dickens. The Pickwick Papers is the only book where I have physically choked with laughter not once, but twice (hard boiled sweets and laughing do not go well together, it seems). I love Mozart, and I enjoyed essay-writing at school. I get all wound up about politics - especially 1960′s American politics and 1940′s German politics. I have bought, and read, text books about quantum physics, and (many, many) biogrophies about Robert Kennedy just for fun.
And yet, despite all that, the fact of the thing is that it was my birthday last Friday, and one of my favourite presents was this:
That’s right: I love Carry On films. And I ain’t ashamed to say so. Okay, so the humour is crass and the jokes are very often horrendous. But I love these films. And I especially love Kenneth Williams.
I had a huge crush on him when I was in my teens (oh yes, I really was that odd), and I keep expecting to grow out of it. But last night I watched Carry On Abroad and I still fancy the pants off the man. There, I said it. Especially in Carry On Cruising where he’s wearing this sailor uniform for the entire film . . .
I loved Kenneth Williams then, I love him now, and I will probably always love him for as long as I live. Ditto for the Carry On films in general. Sometimes being serious and intellectual and academic can be over-rated. And, at the end of the day, if I was ever forced to choose between serious and silly, I wouldn’t even have to think twice. Silliness is in my soul. For example, the other day I dreamed a little tiny elephant came to me and said it was up to me to save the world. I woke up in a blind panic because my cat, Chloe (the fluffy one) was making this high pitched whining sound she always does right before she’s about to be sick and - to my sleep-muddled brain - it sounded just like a little tiny elephant trumpet . . . Now that’s just silly. It’s the sort of silly dream only silly people have . . .
Anyway, I think I’ve made my point. Er . . . even if I’m not entirely sure what it is anymore.
