"Laugh? I nearly did". The legacy of Groucho Marx lives on, though the great comic himself is in the great big tent in the sky. But I have to learn that what is funny for me is not funny for anyone else. In the whole wide world. I am alone in my humour.
For one, it is pretty SICK. Little Britain is tame in comparison. Take the example of THE KNIVES and DEAD BODIES for example. When I meet some people, I of course take care to be witty, charming, a good listener, polite, etc. But sometimes the dickens gets into me and then I just start to go off on one. Last friday, I was introduced to some of the boyf's friends from Church. They kindly gave me a lift home but on the way, caught up in traffic, we got stuck behind a dodgy looking, souped up GTI, which had hand-prints all over its boot.
I remarked: "Don't you just wonder what people have in their boot" whereupon someone else said: "Or who"... general laughs all round.
And then I felt THE WEIRDNESS creep into my brain and take it over.... cue:
"Yes, not that I wonder that myself... I don't keep dead bodies in my boot... they are in my sofa instead. You know, some mates come to visit, they slip down between the cushions when you aren't looking... two years later you are looking for some loose change to pay the pizza boy and you lift the cushion - there is the body, with the remote control stuck to its head..."
General laughter, forced, panicky. I think I heard the seatbelts being surreptitiously unclicked. Then they told my boyf who gently reminded me not to be weird in front of his mates.
IT WASNT MY FAULT.
But that's not all.
Secondly, it is usually INAPPROPRIATE. When my beloved uncle died, it had come as a total shock. We did not even know he was ill. The hospital called us but when we got there it was too late. He had passed through the veil. I found it really hard to believe it was true. The nurse called mum and I into the room, and was saying a lot of soothing-voiced-words that I did not pay attention to. The only thing I remember her saying was: "Just before he went, we told him that his sister was coming. He gasped and flickered his eyes."
Without thinking, I said: "That's probably what made him go."
Mum has never forgiven me, but I KNOW that uncle was laughing at that. He would have loved it. (And it was probably true...)
Thirdly, it is MEAN.
The boyf last night had been going on and on about how I needed to support him, to let him see and know in public that he is interesting and funny, how I need to laugh at him, and look on him proudly and give him a platform in front of his friends, that I need to be beaming with pride for him to prove that he is funny and interesting.
Without thinking, I said: "But what if I find you boring and uninteresting?" It took half an hour for him to talk to me again, and then I had to keep telling him: "you ARE interesting, you ARE funny". When I called him later on, he asked me AGAIN: "Do you think I am interesting and funny?"
By then, I wanted to saw his fingers off and dip the bleeding ends in salt&vinegar crips, but I soothed him by assuring him that he was.
PLEASE! Is there anybody out there who thought any of those three things were funny? Am I the only sick, inappropriate and mean-minded woman in the world? Please, if you are bitter and twisted, a true 21st-century hag, let me know...