Sense of humour is one of those qualities that hasn’t really interested me, neither in myself nor in others. I don’t fully know what type of sense of humour I got. I do know what kind of comedies I like as a rule, and what kind of jokes I don’t like, but my own sense of humour? I don’t even know whether it exists. I’ve never put much thought into it. What does one have to do to qualify for having a sense of humour? I can get a joke – usually – and sometimes I say things that aren’t serious, but are playful or exaggerated or completely opposite of what I mean. I love a good banter and regret there are few with whom one can have that. I have only ever known one person! I wouldn’t say I have a good sense of humour. It always seemed to me that you’d have to be and do a bit more to deserve that description. So no, I don’t describe myself as funny and it’d be a surprise to me if anyone did.
When asked what kind of people I like, I wouldn’t be mentioning that I wish they were fun and had a sense of humour either. It’s one of those things that has always existed on the periphery for me. A nice thing to have, but not terribly important, and kind of empty as a descriptive too.
Today I caught myself laughing at the absurdest things. Such as this conversation:
A: Are you going to make any Christmas presents for your pets?
B: Yes, my dachshund will have a package waiting under the tree.
C: My cat will have a new bowl and maybe some snacks.
D: Animals don’t care about Christmas. Mine will get nothing.
E: I gifted my dog a sterilisation surgery.
Yeah. It was the E. It came so out of the blue and was so inappropriate that it made me laugh quite a bit.
I don’t really like black humour, or the absurd taken too far. I don’t like most of Monty Python, for example, but I think the main reason this sterilisation comment was so funny was its complete unexpectedness and deadpan delivery. In a lot of conversations and situations, there is a pre-existing script of how it will go, so when someone disturbs it seemingly without any intention…I like that.
Of course I pitied the dog, what sort of gift is that?! It’s such a wrong thing to say, but in that context, it sounded hilarious.
I was once told I got a dry sense of humour, so maybe that is the term that describes my preferred style? One of my favourite Rowan Atkinson sketches is where he reads out the list of pupils with dirty names. I generally like most of his sketches, but liking this one feels kind of childish. In a different context, dirty words either cause no emotion or annoy me if overused, but in deadpan style, I’ll laugh. As the sensible part of me looks on in slight disapproval and thinks “Grow up!”.
And the sensible part of me is very much in the right because as per my sense of humour, I felt tempted to title this post “Eyemadick”….
I think it’s a manifestation of that very same disturbing of scripts and previous patterns which appeals to me. The unexpected in a situation where people more or less know what is coming, at least in terms of tone and the general drift.
I don’t exclusively like or use this sort of humour. It wouldn’t have gone undetected otherwise. It’s just the oddest one, the most puzzling one – how I sometimes laugh at things that aren’t supposed to be funny and make jokes that most people don’t get are jokes or don’t appreciate. I really don’t know how I’ve developed this sort of humour. Most of my jokes are rather ordinary, friendly, easily enough understood, and then I do this weird dry humour thing….
Fortunately, I do have enough consideration for others so when I see it doesn’t go down well and is misunderstood, I won’t use that style with that particular person. It takes more than one person to make a joke work after all. And it’s not terribly important to me, so I can easily just not joke and it wouldn’t be any loss.