The Bogun – Gentleman and Blogger

The title of this post comes from the title of a paper presented on our hero at some new media conference jolly in Cannes (passim). We understand the paper is called an Ethnography. Goodness knows what that is supposed to mean. Anyway the text of said paper is reproduced below (with kind thanks to John and Jamie (passim)).

The Bogun – Gentleman and Blogger

The making of the myth

Allegedly, a ‘Bogun’ is a mythical, mischievous bog monster of vaguely Irish provenance. Not famed for its physical attractiveness, the tag was cruelly assigned to the author of our blog by his colleagues at a Berkshire boarding school, when he and they were ‘teaching’ English to foreign students at some undisclosed time in the past. Old enough to know better but all rather bored, they frequently regressed, so the story goes, into regular bouts of heavy drinking and worse, and it was on one such occasion, whilst ‘completely battered’ (to invoke The Bogun’s own parlance) that ‘our hero’s’ scalp was liberally anointed with Immac by his treacherous cohorts.

The shock of the resulting extensive but uneven hair-loss - which first became apparent to him next day as lock after fugitive lock escaped during his morning shower - left him no alternative than to shave off what little remained. Now, looking more than anything else, like a ‘psychopath’ (sic), the ‘Bogun’ resemblance was first evoked and despite some follicular restoration over the years, the title has stuck.



Fast-forwarding to the present, these days ‘The Bogun’s’ earthbound doppelganger maintains a rather more respectable and serious alter-ego – a persona which places strict demands on his time and energy - he is an accomplished lawyer much admired amongst his peers (his 10 year legal career has seen him, amongst other things, representing US inmates on death row).

He is, by all accounts, a consummate professional and in such circumstances and hitting his mid-thirties (his talent is precocious), ordinary mortals would perhaps secure the moorings a little and settle into an ordered and more evenly paced lifestyle. Not so the real life ‘Bogun’. All the evidence points to a frenetic and at times reckless social round revolving about skiing, cricket, rugby, soirées, dalliances and always, always, libations, and always, always, rather more than could feasibly be necessary.

How shall we know him?

Our real life subject is an itinerant, restless soul; always moving about the place either in the course of duty (he splits his professional time between Bristol and Birmingham), and/or fulfilling the demands of a hectic social diary. We initially caught up with him at home although it is clear that he does not feel particularly ‘at home’ anywhere at present. The breakdown of his three year marriage led to 6 months off at the start of 2006 during which time he took off around the world - one soon gets a sense that his personal effects along with his domestic instincts, remain somewhere in transit.

More akin to a nomadic, marauding shark, he is a particularly difficult individual to observe ‘in situ’ and so, at his insistence, we agreed to an interview in what at the moment is arguably his most ‘natural habitat’, the opulence of Hotel du Vin’s Bubble Bar (typically, he actually lived right here, in Birmingham’s best hotel, for several months last year). Here, he holds court and with strong Belgian beer in hand, soon eases into the task of accounting for his remarkable blog.

He is a warm, endearing but, understandably under such conditions, initially cautious soul. He laughs readily and as you would expect from an experienced lawyer, is wonderfully articulate and measured. He is more than happy to address general questions about his blogging and one of the immediate ironies to strike you is how he has come to use electronic media as a means of expression at all when his public demeanour and stamp would indicate that a good fountain pen and treeware would be more suited.

Little by little we garner clues about the character lying behind the character who reports so tirelessly about a character ……

News from Bogun Towers

Written in the third person by a mysterious reporter, we are treated to regular news feeds direct from Bogun Towers concerning the continuing adventures and antics of the gung-ho Bogun – a well-meaning, but ill-fated socialite and bon viveur. Redolent of Wodehouse’s Blandings Castle sagas in style and of Private Eye’s now discontinued ‘Dear Bill’ letters for their faux discretion and intimate reflections, the blog charts the daily struggles of our hero as he grapples with the challenges offered up by the physical world and his oft-times perplexed social circle as they stare back at him in bemused wonderment. With its breezy bullishness, it is frequently self-deprecating and always very funny.

Bogun’s social milieu is populated by an extensive and exotic dramatis personae who enter and exit the stage sometimes as themselves and at other times thinly disguised as ‘The Jaberwocky’, The Lovely Dennis (long-suffering), Scabby, Gravy, Gay George (not actually gay) et al.

Each episode typically presents us with a well-turned, self-contained, voyeuristic vignette; a passage from a chapter in a life. Some concern the mundane (cricket matches etc.), but the most insightful are those which reflect upon a particularly bruising social encounter. Here, through a mix of wry observation and mordant, acerbic asides, we are offered a glimpse into the deeper psychological recesses of our subjects mind. At once, both the feckless, bumbling soak (sic), and the poisonous, barbed social commentator - the material provides rich pickings for the armchair analyst.

Identity parade

Whether or not the tales are factual, embellished or indeed entirely apocryphal is not the point. What is interesting is his motivation for documenting them in the first place. The Bogun has created and is actively developing a literary identity; a ‘caricature’ in his own words, but why? What is the purpose of the blog? Who is it written for? What is the authorial intent?

It is easy to fall into the trap of over analysis – the author tells us that it all started out as an innocent travelog during his sabbatical year which then just evolved. He also confesses however, that it has now acquired a life of its own and that it is the immediacy of the medium (and the fact that it is instantly accessible to his readership) which spurs him on. Blogging has allowed him to ‘find a voice’ and a vehicle for expression which just did not emerge in conventional diary keeping and offline journal writing (both of which he has attempted but ultimately abandoned).

This is singularly interesting. The Bogun’s personal odyssey may well not be documented at all but for the internet – his virtual identity is drawn in electronic words (there is no accompanying avatar or graphic devices) which are entirely dependent upon and exclusively generated in the blogosphere – he breathes rarefied air and can only survive in a server - pull the plug and Bogun disappears from view. He is an entirely mediated invention.

As for the deeper stuff, there is obviously a psychological reflex going on here. On the surface it is easy to dismiss the blog as a harmless electronic social diary (it is seldom benign in fact) but in another, more important sense, its production serves a more profound role for the author. He is a self-confessed ‘jester’ (sic) and has been since the age of 17; the time in his young life when his father suddenly died. He admits that self-deprecating humour had become and probably perseveres as his way of coping, his ‘defence mechanism’. He also talks openly about ‘The Mother’ who is classically over protective (he is the male figure in an otherwise matriarchal family background). Significantly, Bogun’s Mum is an avid consumer of the blog and whilst he sometimes moderates the tone and content with her sensibilities in mind, could it be that he is sending coded messages to both her and the wider world (he goes to great pains to assure us that no collusion ever takes place and that the blog imitates life and never the other way about)?
Whether or not this analysis stands up to scrutiny is of no consequence. What does matter is that ‘our hero’, this classic English stoic, has found a creative medium which may or may not function variously as an apologia for a life well lived, or a hugely narcissistic expressive showcase, or a cathartic canvass on which to doodle, … and probably more ……

What isn’t in doubt is that most of his friends and acquaintances would much prefer to get a mention than not, and for those of us outside, it offers a fabulously entertaining and at times prurient insight into a complex but vital soul.