(B)OOBs – the death of school boy humour

Five million three hundred and eighteen thousand and eight. A number so glorious it deserves to have its own statue somewhere, or perhaps written into the national anthem somehow so that it is forever remembered for its perfection. There isn’t a person in the whole country who hasn’t sat in a board meeting or conference sniggering to themselves as they enter those sacred numbers on a calculator, slowly turns it and slides it in front of another equally bored colleague. If you didn’t have a childhood, or haven’t at least grasped my meaning yet then please take a moment to enter the number on a calculator and bask in the warm rays of comedy emitting from the solar-powered display.

This is a perfect example of the fine British tradition that is schoolboy humour. Jokes so simple that the 8 year old who devised them should be knighted. Comedic beauties such as writing ‘smells’ after someone’s name in graffiti or pulling a chair away from a prospective sitter. Some become more elaborate with time which sometimes dilutes their purity (I remember an accompanying rhyme for a similar calculator gag but the finer details escape me) but there is no avoiding the root of the humour as pure comedy gold.

But, as if announced by a fanfare of whoopee cushions, schoolboy humour appears to be dying, and I have both the proof and the guilty party. The proof lies in a sign being displayed around school warning students that if they enter these places at breaktimes then they will be ‘Out Of Bounds’ or ‘OOBs’ and a detention will be issued. Please take a moment to imagine my slow and agonising descent into despair as every time I walk past this sign my hopes are momentarily raised and immediately dashed as I pray that some comedy scholar has added a simple yet beautiful letter B to the start of the warning but alas, there is no B. What’s wrong with these people? Doesn’t anyone have the time or inclination anymore to add letters to signs to turn them into dirty words? Surely this sad day isn’t upon just yet?

As I said before I believe I have found the culprit for turning schoolboy humour into some distant Orwellian memory of freedom. Sadly the finger of blame needs to be pointed at the same device which played such an important part in the development of schoolboy humour, the Casio calculator. This once hallowed, now heinous mathematical instrument has well and truly sold out it’s roots by embracing technology. The subtle but crucial change involves the calculator display and more importantly its transition from archetypal digital font to a smoother and more realistic style. The display may be more user-friendly for 99% of your mathematical needs, but what’s friendly about 5318008 not looking like the word ‘boobies’? Nothing. Shame on you Casio, and until a pupil adds that all important letter B to the tantalising warning sign, I’m holding you personally responsible for making the world a drearier place.