"One-upmanship" Quotes
Uh, so I accidentally posted some of the below last night when it was only meant to be a work-in-progress. Oops. Anyway, now for the explanation of what it is.
I recently finished reading One-upmanship: How to Win Life's Little Games without Appearing to Try, written by an Englishman named Stephen Potter and first printed in the Fifties. It's a tongue-in-cheek how-to manual about trying to put yourself... well, one up over other people.
Some of my favorite quotes below:
Doctorship, p. 32: [On the few ways a patient can try to become one up on his doctor:] It is possible to throw doubt on the very term doctor -- 'I am, I suppose, right in calling you "Doctor"?' Again, if the doctor asks, 'Don't you think your symptoms have a psychological basis?' (always a weak ploy), reply at once, 'I had no idea that was one of your subjects. I have always wanted a good psycho-therapist.' Refuse to take in his worried assurance that he is not a trained psychiatrist. You 'will tell your friends' about him.
Litmanship, p. 60: [Whenever you're reviewing a newly published novel] [c]omplainingly quote cliches, or at any rate say, 'Why must "blood" always be "congealed"?' as if it was a cliche.
Christmas Giftmanship, p. 110: But Gattling is at his Christmas-ship best when it comes to the treatment of children. His basic gambit is to give them presents a couple of years below their age-group. If the child is continuously burying itself in a corner with Lord Jim, give it a book about a wild wolf dog which saves a baby from an eagle. If the boy is in the space-travel, space-ship phase, give him any book in which animals talk and hedgehogs wear a watch and chain. Or to any child over seven, just getting really interested in revolvers and sawn-off shotguns, Gattling may, with that genial twinkle, give a book printed on indestructible paper with special 'Childprufe' binding about Duckie and Cook and his adventures in Woollie-Woolla Land.
Hands-Across-the-Seamanship, p. 113-4: [On "US-manship":] The basic gambit for all Lifemen, of course, is to praise. And the basic, because slightly annoying, thing for US-men to praise in Britain is its charm. This is sometimes called 'Cliffs of Dovership'. It can be done with most effect if you praise, and with politeness, the charm or quaintness of any of the following:
(a) Pseudo-Tutor, such as the thatched telephone kiosk on the London-Oxford road, or some frightful old barn which has been casting a shadow over your host's garden for years, shortening the lawn tennis court by two feet, yet incapable of being pulled down, removed or destroyed for lack of money, labour and the necessary pulling-down local government licence.
(b) Some bits of condemned and muddy farmland with neglected coppice and untended rivulet, which local residents are particularly ashamed of.
(c) Something which the British don't think charming at all but on the contrary particularly up to date and mechanized and modern. Stand, for instance, in front of the new London University building, one of the highest in London, and 'love it because it's quaint'. Watch one of our most renowned and actually streamlined engines, the Bournemouth Belle or the Coronation Scot, sliding out of its terminus, and say, 'I've always wanted to see a steam-engine again. Why, I remember when the Twentieth Century Limited used steam.' Or ask to be taken on a tour of the largest British film studios, at Denham, and say, 'Why, it's go everything, cameras, lights, and here's a little carpenter's shop, too.'
Another good general ploy when in Britain is to take for granted absolute ignorance of anything American, and then be surprised, if not offended, if your British listener has not heard of some name of purely local interest. E.g. say, 'We have a magazine called the New Yorker' or 'There were two President Roosevelts, you know.' Then talk without any explanation but with a wealth of local detail about 'Lausche in the days when he was Mayor of Cleveland', and take it for granted that your British listener will not only be interested but informed.
There is a decidedly irritating way of 'being amused', very difficult to acquire, yet recommended to the advanced US-man. He will suggest to his British friend that like all Britons he thinks of American history as beginning with George Washington and the apple tree, leaping straight to the Boston Tea Party, jumping thence to Uncle Tom's Cabin via American Indians being shot down one by one as they circle round Gary Cooper, and a band of early settlers who succeeded in preserving America for Rockefeller and Harpo Marx.
This friendly teasing is irritating because it includes and subtends a basic gambit, 'Grain of truthship'.
I recently finished reading One-upmanship: How to Win Life's Little Games without Appearing to Try, written by an Englishman named Stephen Potter and first printed in the Fifties. It's a tongue-in-cheek how-to manual about trying to put yourself... well, one up over other people.
Some of my favorite quotes below:
Doctorship, p. 32: [On the few ways a patient can try to become one up on his doctor:] It is possible to throw doubt on the very term doctor -- 'I am, I suppose, right in calling you "Doctor"?' Again, if the doctor asks, 'Don't you think your symptoms have a psychological basis?' (always a weak ploy), reply at once, 'I had no idea that was one of your subjects. I have always wanted a good psycho-therapist.' Refuse to take in his worried assurance that he is not a trained psychiatrist. You 'will tell your friends' about him.
Litmanship, p. 60: [Whenever you're reviewing a newly published novel] [c]omplainingly quote cliches, or at any rate say, 'Why must "blood" always be "congealed"?' as if it was a cliche.
Christmas Giftmanship, p. 110: But Gattling is at his Christmas-ship best when it comes to the treatment of children. His basic gambit is to give them presents a couple of years below their age-group. If the child is continuously burying itself in a corner with Lord Jim, give it a book about a wild wolf dog which saves a baby from an eagle. If the boy is in the space-travel, space-ship phase, give him any book in which animals talk and hedgehogs wear a watch and chain. Or to any child over seven, just getting really interested in revolvers and sawn-off shotguns, Gattling may, with that genial twinkle, give a book printed on indestructible paper with special 'Childprufe' binding about Duckie and Cook and his adventures in Woollie-Woolla Land.
Hands-Across-the-Seamanship, p. 113-4: [On "US-manship":] The basic gambit for all Lifemen, of course, is to praise. And the basic, because slightly annoying, thing for US-men to praise in Britain is its charm. This is sometimes called 'Cliffs of Dovership'. It can be done with most effect if you praise, and with politeness, the charm or quaintness of any of the following:
(a) Pseudo-Tutor, such as the thatched telephone kiosk on the London-Oxford road, or some frightful old barn which has been casting a shadow over your host's garden for years, shortening the lawn tennis court by two feet, yet incapable of being pulled down, removed or destroyed for lack of money, labour and the necessary pulling-down local government licence.
(b) Some bits of condemned and muddy farmland with neglected coppice and untended rivulet, which local residents are particularly ashamed of.
(c) Something which the British don't think charming at all but on the contrary particularly up to date and mechanized and modern. Stand, for instance, in front of the new London University building, one of the highest in London, and 'love it because it's quaint'. Watch one of our most renowned and actually streamlined engines, the Bournemouth Belle or the Coronation Scot, sliding out of its terminus, and say, 'I've always wanted to see a steam-engine again. Why, I remember when the Twentieth Century Limited used steam.' Or ask to be taken on a tour of the largest British film studios, at Denham, and say, 'Why, it's go everything, cameras, lights, and here's a little carpenter's shop, too.'
Another good general ploy when in Britain is to take for granted absolute ignorance of anything American, and then be surprised, if not offended, if your British listener has not heard of some name of purely local interest. E.g. say, 'We have a magazine called the New Yorker' or 'There were two President Roosevelts, you know.' Then talk without any explanation but with a wealth of local detail about 'Lausche in the days when he was Mayor of Cleveland', and take it for granted that your British listener will not only be interested but informed.
There is a decidedly irritating way of 'being amused', very difficult to acquire, yet recommended to the advanced US-man. He will suggest to his British friend that like all Britons he thinks of American history as beginning with George Washington and the apple tree, leaping straight to the Boston Tea Party, jumping thence to Uncle Tom's Cabin via American Indians being shot down one by one as they circle round Gary Cooper, and a band of early settlers who succeeded in preserving America for Rockefeller and Harpo Marx.
This friendly teasing is irritating because it includes and subtends a basic gambit, 'Grain of truthship'.