The news that Dumb And Dumber 2 – a proper one with all the original people returning – is to get a sequel has made me reasonably happy.
Sure, they’ll fuck it up, it won’t be funny, they’ll try and do gross-out humour that no longer works and it’ll fall into relative obscurity about two weeks after it’s released. But shut up, it’s Dumb And Dumber 2.
See, the first film is still one of my all-time favourites. Just as with something like American Pie, I saw it at exactly the right time. I was 12. It hit a note. It hit all the notes. It was very, very funny. Quotable. Silly. With heart.
And it’s stuck with me all my life. It’s a film I genuinely love, from the joy in Lloyd’s voice when he returns to Harry with the mini-scooter that makes his crying his name sound like “HYAYRRY!” all the way to “killer boots, man” and “kick his ass, Sea Bass” and “pills are good” and laughing in mobster Joe’s face as he keels over from eating the chilli-stuffed burger and Lloyd’s reaction (in his head) to meeting Mary Swim/Swammi/Slippy/Slappy/Swenson/Swanson… Samsonite! I was way off…’s husband.
We’ve landed on the moon!
And, of course, the shitting scene. Which still makes me chuckle when Harry chuckles at his little squeaker to end the ordeal OR SO HE THINKS.
Basically Dumb & Dumber is my Citizen Kane. Without it I would not be like I am today. With it I am this wall of incredible humanity you see before you. The world is a better place because it exists, I am a better person and I like the fact a proper sequel is coming.
Or something like that.
How much of what you were told as a child do you still believe? And how much of that you do still believe will invariably turn out to be bollocks, should you bother checking it? Probably more than you would expect. I still find myself reeling off “facts” to people that I was told in jest by my brother, or incorrectly-sold “truths” from some other sod I bothered listening to. It’s not until repeating these morsels of tasty untruth out loud that I realise how dumb they sound.
“Beans are made from silk!” I will proclaim to all within earshot, before my brain kicks in and I remember it’s actually a composite of hope and pure flavour that makes them so delicious. “Testicular cancer is actually a bona-fide hilarity with no compare!” I will cry from the top of the nearest high-rise (which, from where I’m sitting, is probably New York), or: “horses have knees on their teeth!” Basically, there’s a lot of stored up junk in my brain that I’ve never bothered to – or never thought to – clean out.
It’s an interesting concept, as I consider myself fairly intelligent. This just means that at any given time I could have an utterly ridiculous thought swirling around in my head, waiting to be unleashed on the unsuspecting company I may be keeping. It’s why I’ve had to train myself to shut up most of the time, lest my actual stupidity be revealed to the world at large. Avoiding arguments, discussions, polite discourse – anything that could reveal me as the simpleton I am underneath it all, really.
It’s because of my reasonable expertise in this particular field that I would like to offer a free bit of advice to all of you out there who have heads filled with as much putrid gash as mine is: shut your trap. Clam up the pie-hole. Put a sock in it while sucking an egg. Not only will this mean none of us will ever say anything stupid ever again, but it will also mean I get some fucking peace and quiet for once you awful, awful, loud WANKERS.