What is humour? What
makes a joke funny? Why is something
funny to one person and not to another?
I don’t know. I was
hoping you’d tell me!
Now some people would have laughed at that. And some people would have laughed at that
too!
I went to see Eddy Izzard live at Shaftesbury Theatre a good few years ago now,
and he used a similar technique to get a laugh which relied on a form of self-belittling,
self-deprecation, admission of ignorance.
On this occasion the joke was a little off-beat, a little too “out there”,
and so he followed it with an observation: “Note to self, remove unfunny
comment”, and of course, the audience laughed, so he followed it with. “Note to
self, maybe not.” And he got another laugh.
One comedian took this to a higher level by saying he could
probably kill someone by timing his jokes in such a way that the audience
wouldn’t have time to breathe in in-between laughs. The audience laughed, and just as the
laughter began to taper off, he said “Like this!”, and they started laughing
again. He waited, one finger raised, in
silence, until the laughter started to wane.
His facial expression perked up, he raised his finger higher, and said “And
this”, and the laughter started all over again.
This proved to me that humour doesn’t have to be rude or
threatening, racist or sexist. Gone are
the days of Mother-in-Law jokes or Irishman, Englishman, Scotsman jokes. We’ve been told during the 80’s and 90’s that
these subjects are taboo – the Political Correctness ideal has made laughing at
someone’s gender or religious leanings a no-no, and those that do laugh either
feel guilty about it, or revel in their prejudices.
To me, the funniest humour is that Eddy Izzard/ Billy
Connolly type self-observation, anecdotal, slightly humble delivery. I can relate to it, I understand exactly how
they felt. Any uncomfortableness I feel
is sympathetic, empathic – and so I can see the funny side of their experience
because they’re laughing about it too. I
don’t poke fun at other people, I poke fun at myself.
For example: In
response to my question about whether a friend had anything planned for the
weekend…
Julie : 10:00
Long weekend Monday
off with Neil, Pub lunch
You?
Colin: 10:01
No thanks, I'd just
get in the way
Julie : 10:02
Ha that’s funny
And that brings me on
to the art of the one liner, or the quick-thinking quip.
I was working in London many years ago, and
was enjoying a cigarette break when a colleague stops by my table and asked if
he could have a light. I’ve not smoked
for 17 years now, so I’m not sure if they’re still available now, but back then
I had a thing for those little, brightly coloured Bic ones, so I passed it over
to him. “Oh, I have a jumper at home
this colour! Or is this a little
lighter?”
I think I snorted coffee down my nose. It also received several groans – which I
think is an acknowledgement of funny in some cultures. (At least I hope so, because most of my best
jokes get that response).
Humour seems to be about being in the right place at the
right time, and saying the right thing in the right context . I can’t count how many times I’ve come back
from a gig or the Comedy Club and faithfully replayed a set, and all I get back
is a blank stare, or a half-hearted chuckle where it should have been 15
minutes of uncontrollable belly laughs.
Humour is objective and subjective, a complex weave of storytelling,
dramaticism, timing and expression.
Change a single aspect of it and it’s no longer funny.
Jasper Carrot sums it up nicely with this anecdote. “What do you put on your passport under
occupation when you’re in the stand-up business? Comedian? I was stopped at the Security Line at
Heathrow, the Customs Officer inspected my passport, looked at me suspiciously and said “Tell us a joke then!” “
It was much funnier when he told it.
