There’s a fairly crap joke in Scotland that goes like this:
Q: How do you become a famous poet?
A: Sit in front of the fire until your Robbie Burns.
Robert Burns is the national poet of Scotland. “Robbie” is not an alternate name for any part of the body, although in this context it quite clearly is intended to mean “penis”. Let’s be honest, it’s a pretty crap joke. Heavens, my dad finds it funny.
I was thinking about this joke for some reason recently, and it occured to me that this joke itself could be just the tip of an iceberg of jokes. In the honour of Scotland’s favourite bard, let me introduce you to the Burnsies. A Burnsie is a joke of the format “how do you <become a famous role>?” where the answer is “<perform some action> until your <heretofore unknown private part euphemism> <verb related to action, which has the slightest of suggestive connotations>”.
I know what you’re thinking. Perhaps this would be better illustrated by example. Or maybe you’re thinking this is shaping up to be a complete waste of your time, but you just can’t let go of the three minutes you’ve already spent. Here come the examples.
Q: How do you become a famous musician?
A: Sit in the bath until your Bill Withers.
That one, my friends, I invented. When your children try and tell you it in fifteen years, you can turn around proudly and say “I know the guy who invented that! Well, I sort of know him. He’s this guy on the internet. The internet? You remember, it’s that thing we all did when all the computers were connected by wires. Of course, back then we didn’t know the dangers.”
You’re ready for another one, I can tell.
Q: How do you have an affair with a famous politician?
A: Sit in a plant pot until your Jennifer Flowers.
I had to modify the rules very slightly for that one, but I think it can still qualify as a Burnsie.
Well, that’s my contribution to modern society. If you think of any, feel free to post them as comments. Oh yes, I know, you have this look of scornful disdain on your face, as if you were so far above this. But really, you’re angry because you haven’t thought of one yet.