The acid tongue having writ

Ummm... said rude things to a nice colleague today. He was being quite a shit and I was in the right mood to be irritated. The perfect, most mean retort was delivered before I could think twice. Years of attempting to tame the unruly beast, are laid awaste if you catch me off-guard.

As I was telling Snegum, my particular problem is the opposite of the L'esprit de l'escalier, the wit of the staircase. Just to remind you, L'esprit de l'escalier is the perfect comeback, thought just a little too late for it to really work. As in, you got screwed by some rude individual at a party, you grope for something to say, then think of the world's most amazing riposte as you are leaving the house. It is attributed to Denis Diderot but I, for the longest time, was convinced that Snoopy was the one who invented it. (Not quite apropos of nothing: L from work, tells me that one of her favourite bloggers, who wrote Wit of the Staircase, committed suicide last week. And now her boyfriend is missing, presumed dead.)

Around here, in Delhi I mean, I am untroubled by any pressure to be actually funny. The lightening elevator to repartee rarely needs to be boarded.


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