“Why no funnies?” asked no one who reads my blog. Although, it is a good question. I do think I’m funny. So why am I not funny on this blog? One of the answers is structure. I am not a joke-telling kind of funny; I am a conversational kind of funny: banter. Not the my-friends-accuse-me-of-being-sexually-inappropriate kind of banter. That banter is for arseholes.
“B is for banter. S is for sexual assault. See, they’re spelt differently”
This lesson on general decorum is brought to you by Sesame Street
Another is content, obviously. I discuss a lot of sensitive issues here, and although I think your ideas should not be immune from criticism, I also think that you shouldn’t be ridiculed for the ideas you have. And comedy is close to ridicule and insensitivity.
A man walking through a desert (which is a metaphor for the journey of his life) looks behind him and sees two sets of footprints one set is his and the other is God’s. This assures him God has been there all through his life. But when he looks closer he notices at the truly hard times in his life there is only one set of footprints. He turns to God and he asked “God, why, at the most difficult times in my life, did you abandon me?” and God replied “I did not abandon you, at the hard times in your life I thought it would be more fun if we hopped.”
As adorable as I think that joke is, a friend assures me it is old enough to be irritating
Another reason, as if I actually owed you reasons for not being funny, is privacy. My sense of humour is a little personal and slightly taboo-ish.
So a friend and I got a little drunk together and she said [THIS PART HAS BEEN REMOVED TO PROTECT THE DIGNITY OF ALL THOSE INVOLVED] and then she found it on Youtube!! Hahahahahaha
That is roughly what my jokes would look like if I took the time to protect all the people involved.
There is also the issue of context. I just got back from my first driving lesson in 3 months. During my driving lesson I remembered my fear of roundabouts. I panicked a few times (but never stalled!!) despite having not stalled I did find the brake and not the accelerator at one point, which was interesting. But then I calmed down about the fact that I was controlling a tonne and a half of a solid steel death-box and came back to terms with the fact that roundabouts are, in fact, very easy and not at all scary. I went full circle on the issue of roundabouts; there was a poetry about that. THAT’S NOT FUNNY. But it’s not funny because I had to give you the entire context first. You had to be there. Without context, jokes are very hard. You and I have very few shared experiences and context.
We’ve probably had the trolley at a supermarket with the wobbly wheel, as has everyone else. Still, we are embarrassed by the fact that we can’t control the damned thing and it veers off into people who don’t sympathise with your predicament. “Sorry, it’s got a wobbly wheel” doesn’t seem to cut it, and they look at you with the condescending look of ‘I could control that wild beast, you buffoon. Take better care, Asda is a dangerous place, you know’.
We’ve probably all also been in the situation where you’re really getting on with someone you find attractive and they look excited and you get excited and you both make your way to the bedroom and you start to go through the motions: kissing, taking off clothes, getting out the Elmo teddy… then all of a sudden, for no clear reason, the other person loses all interest and leaves. No? Just me?
Lastly, I just don’t know. If I plan to be funny, I’m just not. It’s like planning to do something random; not only is it not random anymore, but it always has something to with cheese. Cheese is amazing. I need more cheese in my life.
This has been scheduled to go up 9am GMT, which means you probably read this before you showered. You stinky bugger…