Thursday 15 August 2013

The beauty of being inappropriate

There is something truly delightful about inappropriate behaviour. Or at least the relatively harmless strand of it.

Life is full of social codes and rules put in place to determine our behaviour in certain situations. We learn them as we become adults as a means of coping and functioning well in society. But, have you ever noticed inappropriate urges dive-bombing into your consciousness at the least appropriate time? These urges always spring up suddenly, unexpectedly. They pounce, and it always feels as if the imagined action is on the tip of your tongue or niggling the end of your fingertips or toes, threatening to burst into public domain.

I'll give you an example:
I ordered a Chinese takeaway not long ago. The delivery man rang the doorbell. I opened the door. He stood on the doorstep, holding the white plastic takeaway bag out towards me and exclaimed:
"Dewivewwyyy" in a Chinese accent.
I caught myself just on the edge, as I realised that my instant urge was to mimic his exclamation, mirroring back what he had said in an impersonation of his accent. I wasn't being racist, it was just an urge that came from somewhere within. But it would have been massively rude and weird if I had. So I refrained, paid him and ate the food. Which was the normal thing to do.

The other day I was walking along the underground tunnel at the interchange between the Victoria and Piccadilly line. I had an instantaneous urge to strike out and punch the guy in front of me in the back of the head. For no apparent reason. I didn't do it, obviously. At work, when the office is quiet, I sometimes feel like standing up and singing a random tune like 'Coco Jambo' in an over-exaggerated and stupid singing voice. I never have. It would be fun when waiting at the back of a long queue in a shop to suggest everyone starts a game of 'Chinese Whispers'. I love it when a newsreader struggles to fight a fit of giggles or accidentally slips up on a word and says something inappropriate by accident.


This Dutch interviewer's laughter is on the dangerously offensive side of inappropriate, but he just can't help himself!

My boyfriend told me about going to see some sections of Holst's 'The Planets' played live at The Royal Albert Hall with some friends. The support act had been an outfit playing on empty jars with drumsticks and suchlike. I can imagine some people probably enjoying it, the polite silence of others not enjoying it. There were probably stray claps, perhaps a few disapproving or confused glances exchanged quietly in the audience. Then someone stood up in the audience and shouted:
"THIS IS CRAAAAAAAAAP".

 
Inappropriate audience laughter during a TEDex talk

Even more fun than the inappropriate behaviour itself, is watching people's reactions. We have certain scripts and rules to our behaviour that feel safe and rehearsed, and we can act out appropriately. When these are broken we end up in the realm of the spontaneous. It's proof that anything can happen. It's sort of exciting. Most of us hold back from these urges, it is the obvious thing to do - unless you want everyone to think you're a 'nutter'. We try our best to snuff out the internal monologues that occur in our heads so that we can act out what it is we think we 'should' do to fit in and appear 'normal'. Mark and Jez from Peep Show always illustrate our internal battle so well.


Mark desperately tries to hide his real feelings when Sophie breaks up with him in an episode of 'Peep Show'.

Where do these inappropriate urges come from? When reading in bed last night a line stood out in my book that explained the notion well:

"one's rules of propriety make one thirst for the improper." - Mohsin Hamid, 'The Reluctant Fundamentalist'

Hamid employs this sentiment in an entirely different context. In his book, it relates to the conservative dress demanded of women in Pakistan and its possible effect on men and their desires. But...the line still made me smile as it makes sense here too and rings true. Confinement of our behaviour obviously creates an inner urge to break it.

Breaking the social code is usually awkward, shameful or embarrassing. But it can also be hilarious and exciting and break the monotony of what we expect from each other.




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