Here’s the legal bit: you can trademark anything that doesn’t have copyright. Surely I, who wrote the joke first (and can prove it), would have some claim to ownership? Spurred on by fever dreams of this potential nightmare, I started wondering if this was even legal. Given how comprehensive the trademark is, I’m already preparing for the emotional torture of watching my throwaway gag mutate into a merchandising empire: at breakfast choosing between Wagaflakes and Rice Christies picking up dog mess with my Poo Bagatha reading the latest gossip in my glossy Wagazine… a living hell. You lucky people can look forward to Wagatha-branded dolls clothes, scented stationery (?), drinking horns (!?), meat tenderisers and Shinto altars. I have read the list of products that are trademarked and she’s not messing around. I’m going to have to be creative if I’m going to write about a phrase that I can’t legally commit to print.) Why did the chicken cross the road? I can’t tell you or I’ll lose my house.īut my stupefaction was mixed with an unexpected admiration for the sheer chutzpah of Mrs Vardy: not only did she lose the court case, the joke wasn’t even about her! It was Coleen who was called Stagatha Crispy. If jokes start getting bought up then British humour has a bleak future. I wasn’t even aware it was possible to trademark a joke. When I found out I was initially dumbfounded.
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