The Tale of the Comedian of Istanbul

Kifkef spoke:

The birth of Alilli Paad was entirely a laughing matter. He tickled his mother pink all the way down the birth canal and one look at his face caused the midwives to drop him three times on the floor before they pulled themselves together and passed him onto his mother. The doctor had been taking lessons in origami and could not resist the temptation of tying him a belly-button in the shape of a cauliflower. The first cry of his new-born lungs sounded so much like an air raid warning that everyone dropped to the ground in mock terror. They tell me that the baby was the only one in the room who did not look in the least amused.

He was born with a face made, it seemed, entirely out of rubber and his cheeks shook like jelly each time he turned his head. It was the kind of face that delighted in backfiring upon him as he grew up and tried to master the basics of expression and speech. Each time he uttered a word his lips folded in on themselves; the pressure built under his chin and then exploded out with a flapping tongue and a spray of dribble. Neighbours dropped by the house by the hour, arriving with cameras and videos to record the fun for future viewing after the final prayers of the day. Finally, inspired by the traditional methods of modesty, his mother resorted to draping a veil over his features each time she took him outside. Petitions were raised against the move but she was a lady of stern resolve.

Although by the time Alilli had reached the end of infancy and the beginning of childhood, he had grasped control of his facial muscles, he had lost none of his talents for stand-up, trip-over and fall-down in a puddle comedy. Without fail his bubble gum popped in his face and no matter how his long-suffering mother tried, every item of his clothing was either so short as to make him look like he'd just stepped out from a washing machine, or so long that his shirt sleeves and trouser legs caught on every fence, gate or bush that he passed.

Not that anyone minded. Alilli Paad was considered a great blessing to have come upon the neighbourhood. There was nothing more likely to cheer up anyone’s day than just to watch what chaos followed the lad in the space of five minutes. He was forever surrounded by the sounds of breaking glass, hysterical chickens and farcical tumbles into nearby wells.

Laughter followed him like a body odour, intensifying as he stumbled into a lanky and gawky adolescence. A full grown beard sprouted from his cheeks whilst his chin and lips remained smooth as those of a baby. His voice alone was enough to bring the house down: his broken voice box modulated like the gear box of a hyperactive lawn mower, corrupting his every sentence into something unintentionally rude.

Of course, to a young man this was all fiercely embarrassing and a little damaging to his self-esteem. Whilst Alilli had not an enemy in the town, there was barely a person there who could take him seriously for more than a moment. When he spoke in earnest, everyone took him to be hilariously dead-pan. And when he just stood around in the street, strangers weeping with laughter came over to stuff money in his pockets, imagining that he was a clown earning his living by public performance.

And that was just what his life became. Without the slightest effort he always managed to fart or burp at the most opportune moment and his trousers fell down with the timing of genius. Walking in the street he would trip over his own shoelaces ten times an hour, never failing to fall into a basket of mushy plums if there was one within range. He could spend hours attempting to change a bulb or a fuse and he was frequently locked out of his house as his key condemned him to a futile struggle with the lock.

However, the one person who did not find any of this in the least bit funny was Alilli Paad himself. Striving to extract something meaningful from the unintentional comedy of his life, he asked out to dinner Jasmine Jarvis, the local librarian, on whom he had cherished a deep crush for many shy and nervous years. To his surprise, she accepted, albeit with a smirk uncharacteristic of her usually grave and austere face. They met in a fashionable Italian restaurant which, in retrospect, may not have been too wise. By the end of the evening the waiters were detaching strands of spaghetti from the windows and there was more tomato sauce covering the clothes of both the diners than could possibly have gone down their throats.

Undismayed, Alilli suggested a midnight stroll in the local park. There he sat Jasmine down on the bench and prepared for the big moment which he had so long rehearsed in his dreams. He bent down on one knee and what do you think? - His trousers split the instant that he did so. Jasmine chuckled for the first time in her adult life. He fumbled for the engagement ring in his pocket and, beneath swaying stars and romantic half-moon, he presented it before her with a flourish, asking tenderly:

'Will you marry me?'

The effect was a little hindered by the cough sweet in his cheek that he had forgotten in the heat of things - It jumped out with his proposal and knocked the ring clean out of his hand and jingling down the path towards the lake. Jasmine hooted with laughter, shaking with an awakened sense of humour that swept over her like a storm. Alilli scampered down the path after the ring and shouted as he ran:

'No, really. I mean it - Will you marry me?' By the time he reached the pond, a duck had decided to swallow the ring and now Allilli grabbed it around the neck, attempting to force it to choke it back up. This was too much for Jasmine - Barely able to walk with hysterics, she blew a kiss at him and staggered home, laughing all the way.

Alilli let the duck go and sat back against the fence morosely. This was no good. He could not go on living if no one would take him seriously. By now even the ducks were quacking merrily. He rose and marched off with determination towards the local zoo. He sat outside all night until it opened in the morning, paid his admission and then ran to jump over the enclosure into the artificial lake where all the most dangerous reptiles were kept. A huge and menacing crocodile approached him with death on its lips and Allilli lay down until he felt the jaws slide beneath and above him. He waited for the imminent end but instead of the terrible pressure he expected, something else happened. The jaws shook and trembled, a strange sound gurgling up from the cold-blooded beast's neck. Then he realized - The beast was laughing too much to chew him up. Allilli lifted up the crocodile's mouth impatiently and climbed his way back out. No one had even noticed.

Soaking wet from the reptile's saliva, Allilli looked especially ridiculous on this hot, sunny day and nobody was slow to notice. As he walked along the street towards the town centre, the waves of laughter grew behind him and a crowd of onlookers followed to catch the next act. Allilli reached the main plaza, pinched a pistol from a policeman's holster and mounted the central steps. He now had an audience of a few hundred and they all applauded when he put the gun to his head.

'This is it.' he warned them, 'No one left to laugh at after this.' The shock of this rippled through the crowd who all fell silent. For a moment. Then everyone cracked up again, howling, cackling and crying with laughter until everyone's eyes were red and their sides sore. Some had even succumbed to gravity and now rolled around, unable to take any more of this funny, funny man.

Then came the bang. This was considered the highlight of the act by many and it took an hour before anyone realized that Allilli Paad was never going to get up again.

The funeral was a lavish, grand affair as Allilli was considered a public hero and thousands turned out to see him off. It was no surprise that the men carrying the coffin tripped over no less than thirteen times."

Chapter 6