Originally posted: 05/03/11 The day comedy caused me to impulse buy into feeling sad.

Every so often I have the urge to let the whole world know that I am witty. Now this urge is fine for the Sarah Millicans and Flight of the Conchords of this world but for the rest of us who are sometimes not able to think of things on request when such an urge comes to us, we turn to the classic 'funny T shirt.'

The funny T shirt has done wonders for the lives of so many. If you can find just the right comic t shirt you can walk down the street proud and with your head held high, knowing that there is nothing you cannot achieve because people are looking at your chest and laughing. (NB: Funny T shirt is integral to this being a good thing, not so good if this happens whilst your wearing a t shirt that simply says Billabong (NB to NB: That was a poor example, Billabong is in fact a very funny word))

When I am finding myself overcome with this particular emotion I tend to turn to one of my favourite websites: David and Goliath. Now for those of you who are already aware of the wonders that are David and Goliath: How funny are they?? For those of you who are unaware of their existence, please check out their website and see full examples of their funnydom.

My one and only problem with going on this website is I simply do not have the money to buy all the T shirts that I like so I have developed a system. One that has proven fool proof until my most recent internet purchase. This system is as follows: I pick the two T shirts that give me the biggest initial laugh.

So when my latest urge came I went to the trusty website and scrolled through their latest comedy gold (have I mentioned that their T shirts are awesome?) The picking was tough and after much laughter and tears I managed to dwindle it down to five. After more tears than laughter as I realistically looked at my bank account, I cut those down to the two that had simply made me almost pee when I had first seen them. The two I picked and consequently bought were the following.





I was stupidly happy with my purchase and while I waited (rather impatiently) for these hilarious T shirts to arrive I had countless moments of daydreaming the happiness I would feel as I walked down the street with my chest out whilst people stared and not in a pervy way.

After two of the longest weeks of my life, the T shirts finally arrived and I have a vivid memory of running down to the post office to collect them. Once I had them, I simply could not wait until I had walked the ten minutes back to my house so I had run into the portable toilets next to Tescos and locked myself into a cubicle to observe my T shirts and make the impossible decision of which one I would choose first. I opened the 'Forbidden love' T shirt first and thought, to save myself the heartache of having to make a choice, I would just throw this one on straight away.

Happy as a clam I walked around. People looked. People laughed. People commented. People thought I was awesome. Life was good.

It wasn't until I got home and opened the second T shirt that I suddenly came face to face with my dilemma.

At first things were fine and I threw my T shirt on and beamed happily as I checked myself out in the mirror.



Though as I read it again, with me wearing it, something didn't seem right.



Then it dawned on me. I wear this, I'm calling myself a hooker.



It was heartbreaking. I really tried to weigh the choices and argue the case of the T shirt. I mean it was so funny. I had truly cried with happiness when I had first read it. If I wore this one around the town, people would have to laugh too.

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like. Me walking down the street. A couple walking up to me and clocking the T shirt. The laughter that would undeniably follow once they were close enough to read it. My own feeling of self loathing as I hear the words "What a whore" escape their lips as they walked past.

For about an hour I sat and stared at the T shirt, seriously considering the possibility of giving up my dignity and reputation for the sake of comedy. It was at the point where I found myself wishing that I was an actual whore so I could get away with wearing it when I decided that maybe the T shirt should be removed and safely tucked away in my drawer.

So I took it off. I put it away. But every so often, when I know it's going to be too cold to ever take my jumper off for the whole day, I will put it on. On those days when I know I'm going to hang around in the house and be lazy (like today) I will wear it proudly. But even then, I will catch the comic genius in the mirror and sigh. Alas I will never be able to do it proud. I am FAR too much of a prude.