Stone-faced

So I said, "Oogly-boogly."

No reaction.

"Oogly-boogly BOOGLY boo!"

No reaction.

Pacing around the front palace gates, I made sure I was more than a musket-length away from the sentry because if he somehow lost his temper or self-restraint, he could just easily stab me. In the best whiny, quivering, Adam Sandler voice I could muster, I said, "OOGA BOOGA? OOGA... OOGA BOOGA MOOGA SCHMOOOOGA!!!"

No reaction. Not even when I flapped my arms around like a chicken. Not even when I turned around and farted a huge whiff of what used to be fish 'n chips. Not even when I flared each nostril one at a time: left, right, left, right. Not even when I lowered myself to saying pretty please, with sugar on top.

No reaction.

Those Buckingham Palace sentries, the ones you always see in the movies with the red coats and the big black beaver hats, they really don't show any emotion. They'd put Mr. Spock and the entire Vulcan race to shame with their almost robotic indifference.

Suffice it to say, I was crushed. I had taken the tube all the way to Westminster with a mission in mind, the mission of provoking a Buckingham Palace sentry into laughter. It's the ultimate American must-do challenge, and it was a task that was particularly daunting for me because the only time I've ever made a hard-assed prick giggle uncontrollably is when I was 10 years old and asked my dad if I could have an allowance like all the other kids at school.

So, me becoming desperate for laughs, I decided to give Hope a try. Bob Hope, that is. The British loved Bob Hope, so I figured that maybe I could succeed by telling some of his old jokes and one-liners. It was a dumb idea, sure, but dumb enough that it might actually just work. I cleared my voice and said, "I grew up with six brothers. That's how I learned to dance--waiting for the bathroom." B'doom, tish!

I waited a beat then said, "If you watch a game, it's fun. If you play it, it's recreation. If you work at it, it's golf." B'doom, tish!

And I said, "Everything Reagan does, Gorbachev does him one better. Reagan wears the flag of his country on his lapel. Gorby wears the map of his country on his forehead." B'doom, tish!

No reaction.

I looked closely at the guard, who simply stared perfectly forward without any hint of a smile. He was younger than I thought; he was probably about 18 years old, but looked more like he was 12. Then it occurred to me that this kid probably grew up watching MTV Europe and listening to Robbie Williams all day. It's no wonder I kept missing on my Bob Hope jokes, I needed something more contemporary.

I squinted my eyes and jutted out my teeth, then tapped an imaginary microphone in front of my mouth, and said in a gritty voice, "The only thing I know about Africa is that it's far, far away. About a thirty-five hour flight. The boat ride's so long, there are still slaves on their way here!"

No reaction.

I said, "A platonic friend is like a dick in a glass. In case of an emergency--you break the glass."

No reaction.

So I dug down deeper and said, "Yeah, I love being famous. It's almost like being white, y'know? People are nice to ya, they give you the benefit o' the doubt... You drive a flash car down the freeway and the cops'll pull y'over and before they even look they like 'What the fuck are you doing?' and then they see it's you and they like 'Awww man, it's Chris Rock, it's okay, man we thought you was a nigga'!"

No reaction.

No reaction.

No reaction...