That’s it: I’ve cracked.
Most of us in this country look forward to Easter for the long double Bank Holiday weekend, the time to catch up with family and friends, the mountains of chocolate.
For me it has always held an additional appeal – Easter, it seems, has greater pun potential than any other time of year. And that’s no yolk.
If you work with earned media, particularly in the UK, puns are inescapable. Even the American tabloids can hold their own with Fleet Street (thanks to our Chicago MD Grant Deady for sharing this little joy from New York’s Daily News).
Easter and puns, though, are an egg-citing combination. No eggs-aggeration. Once you’ve hatched a plan for linguistic latitude, you can scramble all your best ones into action. It’s almost over-easy.
No harm in poaching them from others either, the bunnier the better. It can be a deville of a job, you might get cross, but won’t make a donkey of yourself if you’re in the hunt. Easter puns are hare to stay.
But I’m rabbiting on here. You know eggs-actly what I mean anyway, so why the eggs-treme eggs-travagance? It can get eggs-austing, egg-crutiating even. Well, I’ve laid them on because they’re hard to beat, in the white circumstances.
Easter puns can be tried out in conversation, and in comms content. You may as well whisk-it. Terrible gags maybe, you may think I’m a basket case, but omelette-ing it slide.
So don’t be chicken.
Reach for that hen-cyclopedia. It will eggs-plain all.
Hoppy Easter all.
Like Madonna said, eggs-press yourself. Come out of your shell.
But now you’ll be finding puns tough to egg-nore. You’ll be boiling over, blaming me for the mental eggs-ercise.
And no doubt thinking…