Dear Funny or Die Presents

Dear Funny or Die Presents, (Sky Atlantic, Mondays @ 10pm-ish)

How has it come to this. I was one of the first to visit you at your place in Cyber Space, do you remember? I came over quite a few times by myself and then I invited a few friends over, they all seemed to like you because before I knew it they were heading to you without me. I don’t have a problem with that, we’re all grown ups after all, but then they started telling their other friends about you and not even mentioning me. I’ll be honest with you, that hurt. Not just being excluded – I’m quite used to that, it comes with being massively opinionated and always right – no, the real pain came from the fact that when I did come see you again you’d stopped making the effort.

When we first met - I can't believe how young you look!

Those first few times were magical, it was like I was the only person in the room and all you wanted to do was bring a smile to my face, then you became more and more popular and my smile faded away. My laughter – that had once seemed like a drug to you (in that it’s addictive and gives you a buzz, not that it makes you soil yourself, talk incessantly and resort to prostitution to fuel your habit) – was now merely a distant memory to both of us. Sure, you could still make me smile but I wouldn’t read too much into that – I smile when I see a midget, a squirrel or a child struggling to put its coat on – the magic was gone and I had to look elsewhere for my chuckles. You don’t have to say it, I know that you neither noticed nor cared, I just wanted to let you know that I was hurt by your ambivalence. It made me sad.

I moved on, I was young, free and single. I was hitting up different websites for my laughter needs, some I formed relationships with like failblog and 27/b – they made me laugh so hard, harder than you ever did, those laughs were so good. I’m sorry, I just said that to hurt you. They made me laugh, let’s leave it at that. Other sites I’d just use for the night and be gone before they updated in the morning. Sure it was shallow, cheap, degrading even, and maybe it didn’t even make me happy, I don’t know. What I do know is that I was laughing again and it felt good.

Then, after a long and exhausting laughter filled night with the Onion  do you know what, it doesn’t matter who it was – it wasn’t you, that’s all that matters. I was knackered and spent the day on the sofa watching old episodes of ER and 24 on Sky Atlantic and there you were, sandwiched between John Carter saving lives and Jack Bauer ending them, Funny or Die, coming back into my life on the tellybox. Funny or Die Presents – just hearing your name made me giddy. I allowed myself to dream a little dream – maybe we could re-capture that initial magic, I mean you’re bound to be making more of an effort if you’re going on TV aren’t you? I was only going to have to wait a fortnight to know for sure.

“Never go back.” my so-called friends told me. “They’ll only disappoint you again.” they all said, but what did they know? Nothing, they were just jealous that you were back. Back for good. Back for me.

So, I watched the excellent Game of Thrones and did my traditional pre-laughter warm up exercises (don’t want to split my sides – I know that’s supposed to be just a saying, but I’m sure it’s happened) and sat there, ready for your return. The first part of episode one raised a couple of laughs –  some lengthy and uncomfortable silences too, as you would expect after so long apart – but there was just about enough to suggest that maybe you were the same Funny or Die I fell in love with. I decided before the ad break I’d go on a second date, and it’s a good job I did, because after the break it was the same old you. The familiar you who acts like you just don’t care. You made practically no effort to make me laugh – maybe some of the floozies you met online find that whole angry drunk friend thing funny, but I just don’t get it. Still a second date was my promise and I never break a promise (unlike some websites I can mention).

The writers room at Funny or Die Presents doesn't lend itself to comedy...

The second date? Well, hopefully you don’t need me to tell you what an abject failure that was. The stilt thing, that was weird, but those twins in the Hall of Mirrors? It was like Twin Peaks but with fewer jokes. I don’t know whether you remember Twin Peaks but it wasn’t funny. Or good. Or in any way comprehensible. It was almost like you were trying to freak me out – and if you were then congratulations, it worked. I won’t be asking for a third meeting.

It’s my own fault, I can see that now. I built you up into something that you’re not. Those early days that I’ve idealised, they weren’t all laughs – in fact you were pretty hit and miss – but because there was no committment, because we’d only grab fleeting moments together, often during work, it made it somehow feel forbidden, it made the whole thing seem more fun and, and this is going to hurt: It made you seem more funny than you really were. Spending more than a few minutes in your company is now difficult to the point of excruciating. The rare smiles you manage to put on my face are quickly gone, replaced by expressions of utter confusion and bewilderment. I wanted you to be so much more, but you are what you are, and that’s an occasionally amusing but far more miss than hit sketch show – seemingly incapable of consistency or the sort of attention to detail that might foster any kind of relationship between us. I don’t hate you, I don’t even dislike you, if anything I pity you.

I genuinely wish you all the best, but it’s over between us – and I think we both know it has been for some time.

So, if it’s Funny or Die? I have to say it’s Die. sorry.

Good Luck (you’ll need it)

Rx

PS – I fear that you’ll have to think about your audience more if you ever want to be truly happy, making yourselves laugh isn’t enough.

PPS – Weird does not necessarily equal funny