Barry the Rat

Do you remember Barry the Rat? He got famous in the early days of Youtube. It was this guy called Paul Allen who had a puppet of a rat, which he used for awkward social interactions. Parents would point out it was basically the noughties equivalent of Rod Hull and Emu, but their kids didn't care.

Barry the Rat gave Paul a short but effective career. A number 7 single in the Christmas charts. The hilarious incident when presenting an award at the Brits. Introducing a headliner at Glastonbury. Barry was notoriously unpredictable, sometimes attacking other guests on chat shows. One time he refused to talk at all on the GMB sofa, leaving Paul looking stupid. Opinion divided on whether it was comic genius or an embarrassing spectacle

It was a good act - nobody could tell how Paul controlled the puppet's arms and did the voice, while seeming to hold his own conversation. But he didn't quite have the charm of Rod Hull and soon found himself fading from the public eye.

Paul and Barry eventually found a place on the university circuit, entertaining students who wanted to get drunk while a childhood favourite said ‘fuck’ and told dirty jokes. Paul Allen was older and worn down, but happy to go home with drunk students. And yes, some of those girls wanted Barry the Rat in bed with them. Paul hated this, but never said no.

One night, drunk and a little stoned, Paul told someone that the puppet talked to him. She considered it a sad drugs moment, ridiculous attention seeking. He told her he hadn't made Barry and at that point the puppet nipped him on his stomach, drawing blood. The girl was frightened and asked him to leave.

But sometimes the rat would talk to Paul. Obviously, it Paul doing both voices. And Barry would taunt him, call him a failure for letting the good times go. It was meaner than Barry the Rat's joyful teasing of celebrities.

The bookings dried up after a few gigs where Barry the Rat went too far. You can find them on Youtube if you look. Sometimes the puppet would mock him for no longer being famous, and other times Barry would mock audience members. Paul looks genuinely shocked by the things Barry comes out with, which makes the whole show more tawdry. Paul knows these things are wrong as he says them. How could he think that mocking someone for their weight would be funny in this day and age?

Paul's medical notes are kept secure so no-one can read them. The diagnosis is 'Alien hand syndrome', also known as 'Dr. Strangelove syndrome', but it's rare for things to go as far as Paul took them. You can imagine for a moment the determination with which Paul must have kept going through the pain, sawing through bones and flesh because a puppet told him to do it.

He told the doctors that he'd not taken the puppet off in days, so the arm wasn't really his any more. He sterilised the saw as best he could with boiling water and vodka - the same vodka used to dull the pain. It was several seconds of back and forth, going fast so that he didn't lose too much blood.

This is all a matter of record, described in his medical notes - as is what Paul claimed happened next. He said that while he was doing his best to staunch the blood, Barry the Rat stood up and laughed. The puppet sneered, a look that once ended a Tory MP's career. "You'd better bloody well call an ambulance."

Then Barry the Rat ran away. The policemen who were called to the house looked for the arm and the puppet but found neither. There are videos online of people claiming they've seen Barry, and that the arm is still inside, keeping the puppet moving. But you don't need to invent things for Paul Allen's story to be a tragedy.

Background

This was written for my regular group earlier this year. I guess Rod Hull and Emu made an impression on me when I was younger. Hull had a good act. One time, in a royal line-up, Emu destroyed the Queen Mother’s bouquet. He was fortunate that she laughed. And then there was the time when Emu attacked Snoop Dogg on the set of late night TV show, The Word… Emu really did seem to be alive.

Recommendations

I've been struggling to concentrate on books over the last month or so, and the only one I finished in April was Scarlett Thomas’s new novel, The Sleepwalkers. I picked it up with no idea what it was about, having decided to read it alongside a friend.

The book tells the story of an awkward and disastrous honeymoon. Tensions grow between the mis-matched couple as they move into a strange hotel. It starts out as a conventional book, but Thomas uses some technical tricks to add to the strangeness, but without ruining the straighforward story. At times the experiments reminded me of those used by BS Johnson.

(I listened to the audiobook alongside the early chapters, and was amused at how badly that medium coped with Thomas’s formal play).

But the best thing about the book was that it cast a spell. I read it slowly with my friend Jane, until we found ourselves racing through that last hundred pages. I love it when a book carries me away like that. I just wish it happened more often.

One more thing

Poet Ben Graham (recommended back in November) has recently launched a Patreon. So far he’s published a great short story about childhood nostalgia and memory, as well as a set of poems about the CERN pilgrimage (which Ben has also described in an article on the Daily Grail website). Well worth checking out.