This morning, as I left the house, my wife asked me what the weather looked like. Opening the front door, I replied, “It’s lovely, although it’s looking a bit Winkleman.”
“It’s a bit what?” came the baffled reply. I perservered, “You know, it’s a bit Winkleman.”.
Silence.
“You know, Winkleman….. Cloudier.” I offer.
Nothing.
“Like the tv presenter Claudia Winkleman? It’s a bit Winkleman…… Cloudier.” I explain, slightly more desperately this time.
If I didn’t know her better, the sad shake of her head with her eyes closed might be misinterpereted as a gesture of pity or resignation, rather than the warm appreciation of my wit that I know it to be..
“I think I’m going to use that every time it’s a bit cloudy from now on.” I said, excitedly. “Oh. Great.” came the oddly unenthusiastic response.
I sometimes think my comic genius is completely unappreciated.
I definitely empathise. Sometimes genius is just passed by.
You could confuse things further by pointing out one of the clouds, saying, “Ah, that cloud looks like a Claudio. You know. It looks like a Reina.”