GRUMPY
Grumpy is freelance writer Lee Bemrose (leebemrose@hotmail.com) Word on the street is that he's a bit of a loose cannon.
A while ago I was told that I was a stalwart, by two separate people on two separate occasions. In one weekend.
I guess this is something of an achievement, something to be proud of. Me, a stalwart. Two people. Two distinct and separate occasions. In fact it's possibly even a little bit cool because both people were talking about me being a stalwart of the doof scene. When they had first started going to outdoor parties, I was there, an entrenched part of the scene, and here I was all this time later still going strong when many other former stalwarts had lost some of their stalwartiness. I was a rock. You could count on me. Definitely, this was something to feel good about.
However, it made me realise that I had always harboured the desire to be called something else. I have been quietly aching to be called a loose cannon. Just once, by one person, on one occasion. Compared to loose cannon, being called a stalwart was like being told you are nice, as opposed to be told you are cool. I hadn't realised how long I had been carrying around this loose cannon thing until shortly after The Double Stalwart Incident. Why had no one ever told me I was a loose cannon?
I had even spent more time than I care to admit coping with my desire to be called a loose cannon by imagining that it was the kind of thing that was happening all the time in my absence.
“Wow, man, I was hanging out with Grumpy the other night and whoa, that guy is a loose cannon.”
“Tell me about it. When they came up with the phrase loose cannon, they had him in mind.”
However, thinking about it, that conversation has probably never taken place. More likely it would go:
“Gee – I was thinking about Grumpy the other day and you know what I realised?”
“Stalwart?”
“How did you know?”
“I was thinking the exact same thing. In fact I think you could go so far as to say he's a double stalwart.”
I eventually asked friends if someone could humour me and just call me a loose cannon, just once. Please? They asked me why they would do such a thing because to be a loose cannon you have to do the kind of things loose cannons do, and I did not do these things. Ergo, they mercilessly went on, I can't be called a loose cannon.
Okay so I'm not exactly Charlie Sheen, but I have my own loose cannon ways. Like, getting ready for a theatre opening night the other night I found I only had mismatched socks left. What did I do? I wore mismatched socks – and got away with it. Loose Cannon.
The other day I ate two rows of chocolate, which is my usual limit, but as there was only one more row left, I ate it too. Three rows. Loose cannon.
I spent a whole day recently being completely naked. Loose. Cannon.
I even posted Killing Joke's Loose Cannon on a certain social networking site as my theme song, just to drive my point home.
The really funny thing about my ongoing campaign – and yes I know my loose cannon activities are a long way from partying with pornstars and saying wild and crazy things in the media like “WINNING!” - but the really funny thing is that my very amused friends everywhere have started doing it. Friends I hadn't realised had been following this ongoing joke... it's been happening in emails, in text messages, and in real life. I imagine strangers overhearing my friends telling me I'm such a loose cannon, and them saying to their friends, “Watch out for that guy – I hear he's a bit of a loose cannon.”
Yes. WINNING!
