How to tell a joke
                -Advice given to a Lady-

PREAMBLE-
Know your audience  Know your subject

PREPARATION:  WRITE out your joke in full,
read it aloud many times.
REMOVE all diversions, inconsequential and trivial.
CHECK for confused references
ENSURE you have a command of the required terminology.
DO Laugh at other people's jokes before attempting    your own (this is called 'seeding')
Get the round in before attempting your joke.


.                  Try not to get out of your depth

AVOID sporting, scientific or technical references-
limit your choice to *** and fashion.
Political issues may only result in your being confused.
DO Laugh at other people's jokes before attempting    your own (this is called 'seeding')
Get another round in before telling your joke.
DO not sweat.

                                           Practice brevity
                                           Remove 25% of what's left
                                           Remain calm


Remember to blink

EVENT- Style is everything:
             delivery is more so
-
PRACTICE eye contact
AVOID staring continually at the same person
DO not wear checked shirts, dungarees or men's boots
DO not mumble
DO not rush delivery
LEARN to lower your vocal pitch
REMEMBER to breathe
DO not show signs of fear

                                           Practice brevity
                                           Remove 25% of what's left
                                           Remain calm

Ask a chap about posture
Ask a chap for advice
Ask a chap for his approval

Try to relax

AVOID tearing-up beer-mats
DO not fidget
DO not under ANY circumstances cough - burp - stammer, pass wind,
or giggle hysterically during the performance.
Turn OFF your mobile 'phone.
Try NOT to look nervous.

POST SHOW- Do not apologize for your effort
                     Do not cry
                     Do not attempt an encore

re-edit

words Tommy Carroll

I watch and  stand
and let a passing
cloud
hit by moonlight
make a rimmed
spectacle
of a distant want.

I shift my weight
and blink;
recalling wordless
feelings before
I put into words
those useless
aphorisms.

It's the words,
with their wanton
un-mouthed ache,
that bleat silently
against the ear,
tangling those
as yet un-marked
and un-surveyed
desires,
whose syntax'
obliterating duster
transforms an
ancient passion
into a grammatical
smudge.

I blink again
and return
to my frosted gate.
Pausing, I catch
a reflection
of the nearly moon
breaking free from
the hiding clouds-
and for an instant
my feelings,
unwritten,
unspoken,
return.

The more I see beyond
the reckoning words
and their sweet ache,
I realize you won,
you always did-
I gave,
you hid.

And this boyish want
has walked its way
away from you.
Despite my stop and
turning look
I was leaving by weighted line
and flying hook.

And my turning to your
wished for face
has piled the wanting
piled the weight
like stones not counted
but hurtful thrown
at this sorry target
this sorry bone.

words  T Carroll

In Algiers I held a glass
that held a face's
stare
In the glass the face
that stared
stared back at me
in fear.*


We came upon slowing traffic.
Inside the war-torn bus the
standing passengers were gently
rocked as we drove along
the unfinished road.

Unfinished roads:
you became convinced
that each rock and pothole
was placed carefully in order
to discomfit passengers,
to remind them of
their poverty
or the slumming middle-class
of the acre sized swimming
pool that awaits.

We passed the sun-glassed
occupants of cars and busses
and the rolled-up sleeves
of lorry drivers.
Tanned arms hung out
of  windows;
fingers tapping
an unheard beat.

I stooped to stare at the
dancing distance of  heat
waves rising from
the baked highway.
Asphalt arteries.

People gripped passports,
identity papers,
rosary- beads
- Letters of transit -
they were not needed;
the border did what most
borders do-
it shrugged us through.

Smiles become all languages.

Later
I sat staring out
the window of a bar.
Hardly blinking.
A bus stopped and
people got off.
A dog scratched.
The sky was blue and cloudless.

I lifted a cold drink.
Watching.
Then Jez turned to me
and asked,
"Is this what it's like
to be drunk?"
I smiled as I slid my wine
towards her...

words    T Carroll

She said: ''You forget about
the fall back position
of Christianity:
'Limbo'
According to the Catholic church
all 'souls' that had no faith
but were without sin-
ended up there.
I envisage
Millions of babies
crawling around for eternity,
crying for their mums!''...

Sometimes on a sunny day,
early,
earlier than the busses,
before the traffic
around my house
has time to make me reach
for the radio news,
and
look day straight in its face.

Sometimes I search out
from under the debris
of tasks ahead
that have me sighing-
at folders of forms and
issues to confront.

Sometimes with the
back door open,
allowing the light to
pool on the wall,
and freshen the air.

I this time 'heck' it and
find Coltrane and Ballads
and coffee and gaze and
I think of her.