1975: Fred Dagg

April 9, 2020

By AHNZ

John Clarke, stone cold genius, now even more the George Carlin of New Zealand because he’s dead now too. His Fred Dagg was before my time so as a teen I discovered the songs and the books as an archaeological exercise. I found signs of such vibrant life that Billy T James also had but which was missing in my time perhaps up until Bret and Jemaine.

For a long time I pined for John Clarke to come back, personally, like some King Arthur to New Zealand.

I was not too young to see ‘The Games’ parody of the Sydney Olympics. Trouble was I didn’t get it. I had yet to recognise that these jokes were the satirical expression of the same spirit I found in my libertarianism/anarchism. Clarke’s mockery of the Games was right out of a public economics text book and I’ve visited the wasteland of those old sports grounds in Sydney. Used once then largely abandoned.

I was wondering how I came to laugh so often in genuine amusement at the world and the so-called news. In dying, Clarke brought the answer to mind for me. It’s that his work allowed me to see tyranny and malice as a menace only up to a certain level. Beyond that, into the metaphysical level if you like, these buffoons are not to be taken seriously. They are clowns! Only after that revelation was I able to enjoy Clarke, ‘Yes Minister’, Monty Python, Blues Brothers, and even Charlie Chaplin mocking Hitler. I can still remember what I was like before then when I could watch all this only as silly nonsense and never be amused.

Thank you for giving me that John Clarke. I realise now that you are not coming back to liberate New Zealand in person and that you’re not supposed to. We’re supposed to do it ourselves, I’m supposed to do it in how I live my life.

—

Clarke died on 9 April 2017

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