The Savvy Marketplace

We are all affected by humour. The Webster’s Dictionary definition of humour is “a normal functioning bodily semi fluid or fluid (as the blood or nymph).” I have no clue what this means, but to me humour is something funny. I kind of liked the part about the nymph, but the rest of that definition is lost on me.

The first recorded occurrence of humour was found on the cave walls of Lascaux. Sometime in 1957, Archaeologists unearthed a carving, primitive in construction, of a black guy, a Jewish guy, and a Polish guy walking into a bar. The punch line is no longer decipherable, but cultural anthropologists have speculated that, since these carvings were made in France, it is likely that the three bar patrons were refused service by obnoxious waiters. This illustrates the fact that different cultures have different conceptions of what is funny.

For example, there is a type of humour which is often referred to as “British,” this is most likely because it comes primarily from Great “Britain.” British humour usually falls into two categories: funny and weird, or stupid and weird. Both types more often than not involve men dressing as women, a device which, like the metric system, has been imported into American comedy with varying degrees of success. It never ceases to amaze me that this is considered to be the pinnacle of humour.

An analysis of British comedy provokes some key questions: How does British humour fit into the larger cultural framework? If there is a God, and he is merciful, then why does ‘Benny Hill’ exist? Is it possible to enjoy a Monty Python film if you watch it with someone who insists on saying every line along with the actors? Do all those people who refer to Shakespeare’s ‘comedies’ truly think that his stuff is funny, or are they just embarrassed because they don’t get it either?

It is true that humour can vary according to culture, but there are some things that everyone can agree on. For example, everyone knows that there are some things which just are not funny: AIDS, the Holocaust, and any film staring Chevy Chase. Beyond this common ground there is much disagreement as to what is funny. I have witnessed, first hand, many otherwise sane people who find Jim Carrey to be intensely humorous. While I am willing to allow that a man who makes funny faces at the camera is amusing to small children and the intellectually challenged, I have serious doubts about a society that sanctions his being paid $7 million to film two hours of fart jokes.

Ultimately, humour, much like intelligence, is about associations. If you combine two elements that people wouldn’t normally associate, like chocolate and peanut butter, or Tony Blair and ethics, then you’ve said something humorous. “Cows and scientology.” That’s funny. Don’t ask why, but it is. So learn to appreciate the humour that surrounds you, because laughter, like radiation, brightens our lives. And laughter lasts much longer.

David Stockdale is a man without an agenda. He uses his writing as a tool to express ‘his’ opinion in a world all too often concerned only by the voice of the majority.

All seventeen-year-olds know everything. Just ask them. I had two weeks to learn a twelve page pamphlet on the rules of driving and I actually tried to learn them. Some of the instructions I didn’t really understand but I was reluctant to ask for help. Of course I thought that the driving test rated higher in importance over the written test, so I bugged my Dad to take me out on the road for a lesson. Dad was a real Nazi when it came to following instructions and though he didn’t curse, the lesson was interrupted by several orders to pull over and park so that he could calm down and stifle his urge to hit me.

The country part was easy but traffic was another story. The first order to turn left found me in someone’s driveway. Since we were already on a side street, Dad tried to show me how to parallel park. Many loud screams of “Left!, left” and “Stop!”. and “When I say STOP I mean right now!” Anyway, this lesson
was cut short when the owner of the house closest to the curb asked us to practice somewhere else or he was going to call the police.

For the actual test, I had to use one of my Dad’s cars - a Kaiser Henry J with stick shift. Automatic transmissions were not allowed for the test. After sweating out the written test, an older gentleman asked where I was parked and we got in the car. He said go to the next corner and turn right. So I pulled out and looked at him for approval at my wonderful driving skills when he asked me when I planned to signal to the rest of the world that I was about to enter a traffic lane. I apologized and signaled a right turn and turned left.

By now, sure I had flunked, I found us stopped on a steep grade at a red light. Not knowing how to slip the clutch, I stalled the engine with one foot on the clutch and the other on the brake. If I took my foot off the brake, we would go sailing backwards down the hill. At this point the tester suggested using the hand brake before I started the car. Two aborted attempts later, with a screaming engine, I finally raced across the intersection at about forty miles per hour. Sweating, I returned the man to our starting point without him offering a word of praise.

Two weeks later I received a notice from Motor Vehicles passing me on the driving test but failing me on the written test. The wrong answers were circled - parking within fifteen feet of an
intersection and not knowing the proper hand signal for a right
turn. To this day I’m the only one I know who can parallel park into a tight spot within six inches of the curb on the first try. Unfortunately, all parking nowadays is head on diagonal.

Retired portrait photographer just glad to get home safely.

In Southern Germany in a town by the name of Bayreuth, the German police are in a quandary. The town’s dog poo is under attack. Park officials are desperate to resolve what could become an international incident. Unknown person or persons have been sticking little US flags into piles of doggie poo for over a year now.

Surprisingly the dog poo brigade has managed to target between 2,000 to 3,000 abandoned piles of excrement in Bayreuth public parks. Quite who actually counted them all and provided these statistics is debatable but the source is rumoured as coming from the Parks Administrator - Josef Oettl. And you wondered what your parkie did each day?

What was thought to have started as a protest against the Iraqi war has continued through the US election campaign and is still a regular occurrence today. Have the German’s not heard of poop a scoop? Surely all self respecting German citizens collect their doggie poo. Poop in the parks and pavements was surely just a British thing?

German police are now stepping up patrols in order to catch these offenders. However, the poo could hit the fan if they ever tried to bring them to court. It is unclear what they would actually charge them with as there is no law against using doggie poo in this way. In fact, you could fly any flag from any piece of turd you find lying around. It’s not illegal but it cannot be a pleasant task.

Surely this wouldn’t catch on over here in the UK - would it?

About the Author

From the Website at www.birminghamuk.com The Voice of the West Midlands