What is becoming more common these days, however, is for the order to be reversed, and for the spoof to precede the "genuine" article. One of the earliest examples of this was Mr Blobby, a spoof TV children's character who was created in the 1990s for a series of pranks against gullible celebrities on Noel's House Party, but later exploited as a marketable character in his own right.
The deliberately awful Christmas singles, not to mention the toys and other merchandising, were duly churned out, and Mr Blobby was accused by some of being lowbrow. But these critics were easily silenced by being reminded that Blobby's original purpose was to mock those who took him seriously. The creators of Blobby, meanwhile, kept their investment safe behind a mask of irony, never openly declaring their creation a hoax so long as there was money to be made. Thus, Mr Blobby and his detractors were caught in a futile loop, neither wishing to declare openly that the emperor had no clothes (or rather that Mr Blobby was merely an outfit without any content).
Chris Morris' single-series sitcom Nathan Barley was all about the madness that ensues from the inability to take anything seriously for fear of missing out on a presumed joke that no one had any authorship of. The mantra "shit is good" neatly summed up the shatterproof paradox that drives its unlikable hero Dan Ashcroft insane. Nathan Barley gets better on second and third viewings, because the quality of the acting gets lost the first time behind all the noise and visuals and ideas. Nicholas Burns brilliantly portrays Barley as a protean antihero, clearly terrified by his own ignorance, yet destined to win out in the end. All he knows is that any moral compass will be more a hinderance than a help in the creative tundra of Shoreditch.
If, like me, you are determined not to take yourself too seriously, and to eliminate stultifying po-faced earnestness from your creative endeavours, you will also want to avoid the opposite trap: wallowing in a Barley/Blobby swamp of lazy irony. It is crucial to appreciate that our authorial intentions are as flimsy and negotiable as the interpretations others may make of them. But the irony game of one-upmanship with our audience is an unworthy distraction, and it is only by sacrificing any claim to a privileged position as artist, and instead engaging in a collaborative co-creative process with the public, that anything of any value can be made. Selflessness is the key.
Both Mr Blobby and Nathan Barley represent the selfish implosion of creativity brought about by an ironic standpoint. The contrast between them is that Blobby cynically and knowingly exploits other people's weakness and gullibility, whereas Barley is a lazy and ignorant idiot, barely conscious of the content vacuum in which he operates. The fact that one is self-aware and the other is not makes no difference, however: they should both stand – as twin lighthouses – to warn us of the perils of sailing up our own arseholes.