...but the fans are charming

As a few of you already know, and the rest of you can read later, I wrote a little piece yesterday about an interview in the press.

I felt that the subject of the interview didn't come across very well. I tried to explain why I felt that, using a quote or two from the interview itself.

And in one place I acknowledged that the impression could have been created by the journalist cutting a paragraph short. Who knows? (Well, the journalist and the interviewee would know.)

The subject of the interview contacted me via Twitter - and I faithfully put his response at the bottom of the piece. He deserved the right of reply and there it is.

But that was yesterday morning.

Today I want to write about the fans.

I had some complaints, some arguments, some discussions on Twitter. I took some abuse. But it was polite, good-natured and generally charming.

Sure - some of the comments were cheeky. And I was accused of being nasty.

Some misunderstood what I was saying. They misconstrued my intent. But that's my fault for not explaining myself clearly enough - I have to say that since it was precisely one of my points in my original piece when criticising the interviewee.

Overall - a nice bunch of people. But then I'd have expected fans of an erudite, witty, hilarious comedian to be intelligent, measured, opinionated (in a good way) and occasionally rude (but in a cheeky, not vile, way).

Why did I do it?

It wasn't to sell books. Really it wasn't. And I didn't - if that makes you feel any better.

(Obviously if it makes you feel worse, then go ahead and purchase a copy of something or something else - that would be delightful.)

I wrote the piece because I read the interview and I was disappointed. I felt let down either by someone I'd followed for years (bought DVDs, attended shows, etc) or let down by the impression the journalist had conjured up.

And the third point I raised was the biggie for me - as an author you just can't tell your reader that they're wrong. I couldn't believe it was unchallenged in the piece. So I wanted to challenge it myself.

I didn't get any resolution, of course. The response from the interviewee was too short to answer the points I'd made - but then he's got better things to do and I'll probably enjoy watching or hearing whatever he's working on instead of replying to me.

But it felt cathartic to write it. No one was harmed. Did it do any good? Who knows. Probably not.

But it distracted a handful of people from facing life and all its bitter ironies for a few minutes and that can't be all bad. And any cognitive function helps to exercise the brain so it probably also made us all just a tiny bit more intelligent.