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Cats, bums and parsnips. Sort of.

April 2, 2012

NB. This article was written after asking Twitter what I should write a blog about. The answer was cats, bums and parsnips. This contrived post was my attempt to shoehorn those words in. I think I missed the mark ever-so slightly. 

A comedian – I forget who – once made a joke about men who exclaim “whoopsy daisy” when some sort of mishap befalls them. It was along the lines of “Men who say whoopsy daisy or whoops-a-daisy or oopsy daisy or any variation of that apocalyptic phrase are never going to ever have sex, find any sort of emotional fulfilment and are unlikely to live past 45… and a good job it is too”. Well, as a man who says whoopsy daisy and all its variations when I experience anything from a mistyped key to some spilt milk (I also cry when the latter happens), I have to say this comedian – I forget who (it may not have even been a comedian but a work colleague, friend or the object of my desires speaking directly to me) – is wrong. Darn wrong.

We, as a race, are staring down the barrel of a big end-of-time shotgun and God/the bankers/Mitt Romney has got an itchy trigger finger. There is a riot waiting on every corner, a financial blackhole in everybody’s back pocket and the only reason the four horsemen have not already arrived is because they are currently being led through road tunnels far too narrow for their steeds by unreliable-but-ever-relied-upon Sat Navs. This is the end, guys. And if there is one thing which is going to save us it is a friendlier use of the English language. That’s right, words. Not Merkel, Obama or Dave. Not Kyoto, Versaille or Brussels. Not nothing.

Everytime I hear or say whoopsy daisy or any other twee exclamation of error or surprise the looming armageddon takes a step back and thinks “those earth people aren’t so bad, they seem quite nice and polite. I’ll leave them be”. Yes, for the purpose of this blog, the armageddon is a single being and has an admirable social conscious. If you Urban Dictionary (like Googling something but ruder and probably more amusing) most words you can bet one of the definitions will be something you say when something goes Pete Tong – you can also put a lot of money on one of the definitions being linked to sexual deviance. “Bums” = short word for bummer as in “shame” or “oh dear”. “Parsnips” = feeling a bit unsure about something (but would work just as well as “Damn” or “Drat”). The list goes on and on. Much in the same way you can use any word for being drunk (I was totally sofa’d last night) we can use any lovely non-offensive word to express our sadness or shock at something not worthy of a ****!!!! or *********!!!1!.

Look at cats. If something goes wrong for them they merely flick their tale and slant their head with a nonchalant “oopsy daisy” and go about the rest of their business. Subsequently, they are a shoe-in for surviving the apocalypse. They have got it bloody sorted. Their world in no way looks like it is about to fold in on itself like ours. In fact, whoopsy daisies and parsnips aside, if we adopt more feline ways in general we could probably extend our existence for another few years. So, here’s a tenuous call to arms and a big, casual nevermind to the comedian/lover to whom the opening comment can be attributed to: let’s all just chill out and say nice things when bad things go wrong. I just wasted a good hour or so of my life writing this. Whoopsy daisy.

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