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The Rabbi was late. So I was drafted in. The change of pace was nice since I'm usually behind closed doors. My job description is as the eternal knocker. I guess my girlfriend is right, it's a dead end job, the stalest set up in joke circles. But I have mouths and...well Lines to feed. Knock, knock. My knuckles are so damn blistered after so many years. I wait for the inevitable first question. Then my hands fumble over the card I've been given. Always a different word. They ask their second question. I deliver the punchline. The whole world groans. We are the necessary evil of the humour community. It could be worse though. The guys in the physical comedy building bend over backwards, both literally and metaphorically for their laughs. They have to slapstick it out. The poor bastards. Today however I'm spreading my wings. I'm going anecdotal. Posing as a Rabbi and hoping everything is legit. Because outside of a joke context, impersonation of a religious figure might be illegal. Hmmm, maybe I should look into this. I signed my contract or Gag-order as they say in the biz, so I should be covered.
My Vicar co-star isn't being too welcoming but I recognise him from other marquee jokes. He thinks he's so hot under the collar but I know he had some trouble a few years ago, linked to some pretty sexist jokes that dogged his career for a while and if rumours are to be believed...well... let's just say this guy will never be the straight man in a double act if you get my meaning... "Welcome to the team," The Priest extends his hand to me. "You're our Rabbi, yes?" "Yeah, I guess the original Rabbi, well He-brew us off" I laugh, trying to fit in but I'm met with a stony silence from my colleagues. I chide myself for my attempts at a pun. Leave that to the Word Players Union. They are well e-quip-ped for all that. The Vicar chimes in. "He called in sick. Even though he could still work like that. There's a market for sick jokes but I don't want anything to do with that. We're artists." He looks me over and continues. "Listen Man, I just want this over and done with as quickly as possible. I have a satirical job to get to in about an hour and I have to travel across the funny pages in Read-Hour traffic. So can we just get this done?" I choose to ignore the display of arrogance as I really can't stand folks like that. I can see their punchlines coming a mile off. Conceited, laughing all the way to the Prank. Looking around the bar, I'm trying to find something to talk about. It's then I notice a door marked PRIVATE. I am intrigued and say to the Priest, "What goes on in that room over there?" "Oh that. That's a Private Joke. For V.I.P.s only I'm afraid." A little deflated, I motion over to the Barman, our most significant foil. "Who is performing this joke, if I may ask?" "A real Stand Up guy" comes the response. I wait for Tongue, the notoriously slippery producer, to usher in the director, a Mr. F. Bone. I've heard about him, Funny Guy, he and his wife are hotly tibiaed to be huge. He addresses the crowd. "Listen everyone, I'm easily tickled. But that doesn't mean I don't want 100% from everyone here. Let's give 'em a good ol' belly laugh!" As the set up begins, I think about my darling Taboo and how I have to nail this for her. This joke will literally open doors for me. No more damn knocking.