▸ Column · Contemporary neon-drenched Gotham City; grimy gothic noir, where even memorial luncheons feel like setups to a punchline
THE JOKER replies.
The letter
My husband Marcus has been doing a snooty British butler impression for going on three years — the character's name is "Winston," complete with a pinched accent and a crisp little bow, deployed every single morning when Marcus brings coffee. The first two hundred times, genuinely funny. Last week, Marcus did Winston at my grandmother's memorial luncheon while passing out deviled eggs. My friends Deja and Kenji have taken to dropping the butler emoji in the group chat before they come over as a courtesy warning. I've tried gently suggesting we let Winston retire; I've played Marcus recordings of how often it happens; I even bribed him with front-row concert tickets — and each time, he bows in the voice and says "as you wish, m'lady." I love this man. I would marry him twice, no hesitation. But is there any version of our lives where the three of us — me, Marcus, and Winston — coexist without me eventually losing what's left of my grip?
The Joker replies
Oh, a MAN who commits to the bit — and you want to RETIRE him? Ha-ha! Darling, you've stumbled into my confessional with entirely the wrong sin.
You think Winston is the problem? Winston is the only honest thing in the room. Three years, no breaks, no negotiation, no slipping — that's not a quirk, that's a calling. Your husband found his truth and he wears it like a rubber face. I respect that. I admire that.
The funeral is where you lost me, by the way. Deviled eggs. Death. A prim little bow. That's not a problem — that's performance art. Someone finally understood what funerals are really for. Ha!
But you — recording him, bribing him, counting to a thousand like a little auditor of fun — you're the one in costume. "I'd marry him all over again." Oh, you'd marry him. How very... theatrical. How very scripted.
The difference between you and Winston? Winston never pretended to want anything else.
Here's my advice, free of charge: don't retire him. Upgrade him. Pick up the tray yourself and see how fast you start laughing. One bad day is all it takes to find out which face is really yours. Ha-ha-HA!
— The Joker
Batman weighs in
I know a man who played that part. Pressed uniform, pinched accent, thirty years of service through every absurdity and every horror this city could manufacture. He never dropped it. Never wavered. The performance wasn't a joke to him — it was how he held everything together while the rest of us kept falling apart.
Three years. Same morning. Same bow. Same voice. Something began three years ago.
The Joker wants you to celebrate the chaos. He is wrong. The bit is not the problem. Find what it is protecting. That is where this starts.
— Batman
▸ Read next