Thursday 2 August 2018

A Kink in the Brain

I have an all-male star cast of principal characters and extras. No women like in the olden days of putting on Shakespeare's plays, although no men take on these roles either. There just aren't any women. As in A, B, or C-listed women, just ordinary mortals playing their God-given roles, whereas some of the very ordinary men permanently in or who fleetingly enter my life have stand-ins. Substitutions made for a star. And at times usually when those men aren't present. Absent for one reason or another, death, of course, being the fatal one, or due to a chapter being knocked on the head, though there have been occasions when both: the real and the stand-ins have stood side by side and each vied for my attention.
The stand-ins however, although composed of flesh and blood, are ghostly. Brought before me by the mind's eye; the people they substitute for, I can reassure you, are very real.
I wouldn't be able to pinpoint how, when or why this came about, so please don't ask me, nor was it put to me as one of those getting-to-know-you questions that I've since given too much thought to, perfecting my answer so that when, if I'm asked again I'll have it down pat and can reply with some smugness before turning the tables on the asker.
And the same goes for why it only affects (for me) the male of the species, to which the only answer I can give is: I don't know. I guess I could fashion a logical argument if I wanted, but I don't really. I'm happy with it being what it is: a quirk.
It does make a good dinner party or dating question though doesn't it? If you had to put together a star cast to represent your friends, family, and acquaintances who would you choose?
This quirk, as I've determined it, is however nothing like that, for I didn't decide. I didn't choose. I didn't go through resumes or portfolios, and select or reject. Who would play who was fixed, settled by something other than the conscious part of me. It could be framed as above for entertainment, but let's be straight, this isn't how it was, how it is, for me. This male cast existed (and exist) before I gave any serious consideration to it. I thought this was normal. It's not as it turns out, which no doubt you will have deduced if you're a rational being. So, I guess (to help you along should you not share this kink in the brain) I should, as it does in a theatre programme, list the principal male characters and their players:
Pop W. - Sid James
Pop P. - Ronnie Barker
Uncle L. - Tony Robinson
Pa* - Derek Thompson (Charlie Fairhead from TV soap, Casualty)
*Due to 'Casualty' commitments the role of Pa may be played by Wallace, of Wallace and Gromit fame, with the kind permission of Nick Park.
Why it should be these particular public figures and not others I again don't know, except to repeat that my mind has obviously made these associations without any intellectual input, although it's not as if the characters or the actors resemble each other in appearance or manner, so what that association is I couldn't rightly say. There must be something, some similarity that may be so small my conscious brain misses it or at the very least can't put into words, and yet I've never disputed these decisions. In other matters, sure.
This kink also extends to males I interact with briefly, so I don't for this effect to happen have to know any male for any length of time, time that is measurable say in weeks or months. For example, last year I was interviewed by a nice chap who I associated immediately with the comedian, Jack Whitehall, for no instantly obvious reason; and years before that I was seeing someone who became fixed in my mind, as well as in others I might add, as Jeremy (Jez) Osborne from the British sitcom, the Peep Show. And then there's Ronnie Corbett who I forever associate with Rupert Bear because of their shared love of the tartan trousers, yet otherwise the link is illogical, and somewhat disrespectful to Ronnie though hopefully (if he were still alive) he'd see the funny side.
Perhaps he does from the male wing of my mind-made stage?

Picture credit: Ernest Thesiger, 1925, by  Gluck (Hannah Gluckstein)