Three years, six months and 13 days ago, I tweeted the words “Coleen Rooney: Agatha Christie”. Well, that’s not quite what I tweeted. I inserted a “W” before the Agatha, creating a disposable pun that somehow went viral. To my bemusement the joke was emblazoned across countless headlines worldwide. You may be wondering why have I introduced my famous pun in such a tortured fashion. Well, I’m trying to avoid getting sued.
This week the world discovered that Rebekah Vardy has trademarked the phrase-who-shall-not-be-named, meaning that she can make money from using W****** C******* as a brand or unleash cash-thirsty lawyers on anyone else who dares use it.
When I found out I was initially dumbfounded. I wasn’t even aware it was possible to trademark a joke. If jokes start getting bought up then British humour has a bleak future. Why did the chicken cross the road? I can’t tell you or I’ll lose my house.
But 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. (Sorry. 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.)
I have read the list of products that are trademarked and she’s not messing around. You lucky people can look forward to Wagatha-branded dolls clothes, scented stationery (?), drinking horns (!?), meat tenderisers and Shinto altars.
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. Spurred on by fever dreams of this potential nightmare, I started wondering if this was even legal. Surely I, who wrote the joke first (and can prove it), would have some claim to ownership?
Here’s the legal bit: you can trademark anything that doesn’t have copyright. There is a possibility that I do hold the copyright to the phrase “Flabatha Wristie” (this is starting to annoy even me now), but it’s also possible that you can’t copyright a short phrase; in which case Mrs Vardy is free to sell all the branded meat tenderisers God sends.
It’s a legal grey area. And legal grey areas turn lawyers into panting cartoon dogs with pound signs in their eyes, salivating over potentially years of eye-wateringly expensive arguments about whether or not a pun is copyrightable. You know how explaining a joke renders it unfunny? Try having it picked apart over several years by barristers. I know that’s why I got into comedy!
A part of me is tempted to take action. If it kept going to appeal there is a slim chance that Rebekah Vardy could end up back at the high court. Just imagine! Back where it all started. I have an agreement in principle that if it ever got that far I will dress as Coleen, and my wife will sit in the gallery dressed as Wayne.
A lot of people have urged me to lawyer up and I understand why; they find it unfair that if you’re rich enough, you can buy up whatever you like whether it’s for sale or not. Frustratingly our legal system makes it hard for anyone without deep pockets to fight back.
There is a seductive fantasy where I take this to court, go full-Rumpole and win a historic ruling: tubs are thumped, gavels are banged and jokes are set free to frolic in the hills forever. But this isn’t a charmingly shabby 1980s ITV drama, it’s real life. More likely I’ll end up embroiled in a glutenous legal morass about the semantics of a stupid pun, and in 10 years when the children ask “Why do we live in a tent?” I’ll have to say it’s because daddy spent all the money trying to end the tyranny of Wagatha-branded drinking horns.
The thing is I never felt like I ever owned “Dragatha Twisty” (last one, I promise) in the first place. At least it had a life before captivity. It was fun while it lasted.
The people who matter will always know the truth: in decades to come one of my grandchildren can look up at the Wagatha-branded Moon Base and say “my grandpa wrote that”.
• Dan Atkinson is a writer, producer, and stand-up comedian
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