I gather it’s a bit of a thing, across the pond, for Democrats to have One Republican Friend. Initially I struggled to see why this was such a big deal – did they think it was funny? It’s not. But then it clicked: having a friend must be a very rare and special occurrence for a Democrat. Props to them that they’ve actually convinced a Right-minded human being to spend time with them.
Just so any Democrats reading know: I am not volunteering my services in this regard.
Anyway, that’s not the point of this story, although it will perhaps give you a context for it. I want to tell you about My One Racist Friend.
Generally I don’t like racists. On account of the fact that I don’t really enjoy the company of fucking muppets, and let’s be honest here: anybody who thinks that skin colour is a useful means of evaluating another person’s worth is clearly a fucking muppet.
My One Racist Friend certainly is. But every now and again he comes out with something truly marvellous. From the most gnarled, aged vines drop the best grapes, or something like that.
I don’t know if he turned racist after we had become friends. More likely he was always racist, and I simply realised too late.
Anyway, I was out with My One Racist Friend and his girlfriend. She’s nice enough, but she’s not funny. I mean, Michael McIntyre is probably funnier than her. I’ve seen backdrops work a crowd better. If she did stand-up, the best part of the show would be the mic stand.
What with the American elections looming, we were discussing US politics in general, and Obama in particular. Thinking it would be a crowd-pleaser (I assume), the girlfriend drops this stinker:
“Do you smell what Barack is cooking?”
That was a funny line. In 2008, when Barack himself said it. Whatever: not wanting to leave the girl hanging, My One Racist Friend pops this in his best Morgan Freeman voice:
“Yup. Fried chicken.”
He’s a funny cunt.