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For perhaps five seconds——they caught sight of this perplexing apparition. ” Husband: “Fellow in his pajamas, with shaving cream all over his face and a peacock under his arm.” There was, as we know, a perfectly rational explanation.(Stoppard went on to say that several of his plays had grown out of images such as this.
There is a perfectly rational explanation for this.
In “After Magritte,” a much shorter play by the same author, we learn that a one-legged blind man with a white beard, who may in fact have been a handicapped football player with shaving cream on his face, has been seen hopping, or perhaps playing hop-scotch, along an English street, wearing striped pajamas, convict garb, or possibly a West Bromwich Albion football jersey, waving with one arm a white stick, a crutch, or a furled parasol while carrying under the other what may have been a football, a wineskin, an alligator handbag, or a tortoise.
I've probably watched it more than a dozen times, and I still finding it absolutely compelling. But when a joke bases itself upon a distortion - a stereotype perhaps - and gives the lie to the truth so as to win a laugh and stay in favour, we've moved away from a comic art and into the world of cheap entertainment and slick success... And even if you're not, you should bloody well want to be..." "... Most comics feed prejudice and fear and blinkered vision, but the best ones, the best ones... Till they find their pain and their beauty." "Comedy is medicine.
I can do no better than leave my own words here, and devote the rest of this comment to Eddie Waters' address to his students, imploring them to take the right choice for their future as comedians. If I've told you once I've told you a thousand times. If all you're about is raising a laugh, OK, get on with it, good luck to you, but don't waste my time. A joke that that feeds on ignorance starves it's audience. illuminate them, make them clearer to see, easier to deal with.
The two Straussler scions assumed their stepfather’s surname, which was Stoppard.
Thomas, who claims to have spoken only Czech until the age of three, or possibly five and a half (he does not seem quite sure which), grew up to become, by the early nineteen-seventies, one of the two or three most prosperous and ubiquitously adulated playwrights at present bearing a British passport.
Dropping his razor, he set off in pursuit and managed to catch the feathered fugitive just as it reached a main road adjoining his property.
At that moment, a car flashed by, middle-aged husband at the wheel, wife at his side.
“Jumpers,” a play by Tom Stoppard, whose other works include “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead,” “Travesties,” and “Dirty Linen,” a man carrying a tortoise in one hand and a bow and arrow in the other, his face covered with shaving cream, opens the door of his apartment.
Standing outside is a police inspector bearing a bouquet of flowers.