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I was interested in this article about what makes mass shooters do what they do.
I have long thought that they press coverage of these events must surely encourage them, turning the shooters into anti-heroes, publicising their mad world views and making them “famousâ€. The newspapers wallow in the pornography of grief in a intrusive and offensive manner and if you’re the kind of person who harbours massive resentment against the world then you’re bound to think this might be the medium that you should take. If the news report just said, “Some prick has killed a load of people again,†and didn’t name him or say why he’d done it, then I reckon you’d see an almost immediate falling off in this kind of crime.
But what struck me most was how similar the psychological reasons for murder sprees are to the driving forces for many comedians “ massacre killers are typically marked by what are considered personality disorders: grandiosity, resentment, self-righteousness, a sense of entitlement. They become, says Dr. Knoll, " 'collectors of injustice' who nurture their wounded narcissism." To preserve their egos, they exaggerate past humiliations and externalize their anger, blaming others for their frustrations. They develop violent fantasies of heroic revenge against an uncaring world."
I know a dozen comedians exactly like that (and can’t totally deny some elements of that have crept into my work). If you had to define comedian you might well go for “narcissist blaming the world for everything that is wrong in their lifeâ€. I don’t know if this makes me terrified that the people I work with are just one step away from pulling out an automatic weapon and gunning down everyone in sight, or think that comedy might be preventing dozens more massacres happening every year. I would take a gun into the offices of this company for my perceived but erroneous feeling that they have somehow blighted my life, but instead I will dedicate myself to bringing them down by making every single routine I do somehow about them. Perhaps the employees of Shepherd’s Bush Post Office should be grateful about the way I chose to channel my anger after all.
But as Bridget Christie says in her (excellent) book (and in my podcast which will be out in a few weeks) she doesn’t know how regular people cope without the “deferred creative revenge on the tedious admin of lifeâ€. And reading Limmy’s book (and watching his sketches) I can’t help thinking that he copes with a lot of anger via the fantasy of comedy. And thank God he does. I am still mildly terrified of him. And sexually attracted to him when he’s dressed as Falconhoof.
I drove my wife and baby and my 24 year old niece down to Cheddar today for a family get together. It felt great being a dad driving my family around, because that’s what being a dad is all about. Most of my childhood memories seem to be the long car journeys to see our grandparents in Middlesbrough and there’s something rather special about now experiencing this from the driving seat. My daughter is too young to know the tedium of the never ending car ride, or the rivalry with brothers and sisters, or seeing who can make a polo last the longest or playing number-plate games or pub cricket (in fact she slept through almost the entire journey today) but I am looking forward to the frustration and the fights and this drive really brought home to me that I am someone’s dad. As we chatted about the past and I pointed out where my brother had once worked to his daughter I realised that it is 40 years ago this month that our family moved to Cheddar and that most of those car journeys were from about four decades ago, which is frankly insane.
The time passes fast. My niece is exactly half my age, but I knew that my warnings about the speed that the next 24 years would go would not be heeded.
Phoebe continues to be so resolutely cheerful and happy to see everyone and the most sociable baby ever. She charms both family and strangers and it’s lovely to see her so happy to see her grandparents and cousins.
I flaked out at 8.30pm. It’s one of the first nights for ages that this has been a possibility. Ah, sweet sleep.
