I have been ASTONISHED recently by our collective sense-of-humour failure. I mean, not my sense of humour, I’m as funny as fucking always, but, like, the mass outrage at innocently humorous jokes. I get that humour is very subjective; what some people may find funny, others obstinately won’t (like Miranda, for instance. People go fucking nuts for that show, but I find it so un-funny that it hurts my teeth). No, I get that. What I’m finding strange is how people are taking offence to silly little jokes, and making a big fucking song and dance about it in the process. That’s weird.
For instance, an acquaintance of mine recently changed her name on Facebook to Far Kew and posted the following on the sanctimonious North Shore Mums page: “Can anyone recommend a counsellor on the North Shore that specialises in helping people with PTS? I just changed my name by deed poll and I am worried I made a small spelling mistake.” BAHAHAHAHAHA, yeah? Within minutes, the post had been removed, and Far Kew (in reality a long-standing member of the North Shore Mums) banned from the page. Say WHAT? I get that some people might not find that funny. That’s cool. We all find our humour in different places. But to BAN her for trying to have a bit of a giggle? Fuck right off.
A couple of months ago, on my Facebook page, I posted a story about Frankie standing up on an aeroplane and telling hundreds of disembarking passengers to go and fuck their fucking faces off. It’s inappropriate, yeah, but very fucking funny. A lady called Joan begged to differ. She piped up: “I find this very offensive! I can’t be the only person who finds this very offensive and not at all funny!” And I’m, like, Joan, mate, clearly this is not the Facebook page for you. Maybe the "fans of Miranda" page is more up your street.
If you don’t think something is funny, or if you find it offensive, then avert your fucking eyes. Accept that people find humour in different places, and move on. Unless the comments are nasty, malicious or capable of causing hurt, then shut the fuck up.
Over the course of my three decades and a bit (ahem), I’ve surrounded myself with people who share the same sense of humour as me. This is important. I only have friends who make me laugh. Paul, my brilliant husband, makes me laugh more than you can possibly imagine of a man who gets up at 5.20 every morning and has three children who like to stick Duplo in his mouth. That’s why I married him, and why I’ll stay married to him. We find the same things funny; things that other people, it seems, don’t. Things like:
1. Naked children. MY children, not other people’s children, and not in a sexy way. Ben did a nudie run through the streets of Seminyak when he was four. The locals cheered and waved their pinky fingers at him. It was hilarious, my best holiday memory ever. Little boys with no underpants on are funny.
2. Napoleon Dynamite. I WAS THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WHOLE CINEMA LAUGHING. Paul and I watched the DVD on our second date, but we couldn’t make it to the end because we both giggled way too much and I think I snorted wine out of my nose so we had to stop it. Even now, if someone says, “I’m going to build her a cake” in a Mexican accent I laugh for about a fortnight.
3. Mexicans. Mexicans are funny. See above.
4. Swearing. Two or three days after Paul and I met, we took two old people to Rottnest Island. They texted to ask what time we would pick them up. We replied: “9.30 on the fucking dot.” And for some reason, this made us both giggle for three days straight.
5. Other people falling over. Not if they’re seriously injured, obviously, but if they are just gently grazed, then that’s funny. See also: drunk people.
6. My friend Moray. He once went for a job interview and his potential employer told him the company had strong ties with China, and how did he feel about that. And Moray said that was great, because he spoke Mandarin. And at the end of the interview he shook his potential employer’s hand and admitted, "Actually, I don’t speak Mandarin." And another time, when we were both working at the BBC in London, a girl brought in a box of kittens to give away to good homes, and another girl came into our office looking for the girl who was giving away the kittens, and she asked Moray where she might find her, and Moray said, without missing a beat, in his silky Scottish burr: "You’re too late, they’ve all been drowned."
If you don’t find any of the above funny, then chances are we’re not gonna get on all that well. And that’s cool. Just keep it to yourself, yeah Joan?