Regardless of how deep or dark my bouts of depression get, I home in on finding humour in everything I can. Tonight I’m going to see Micky Flanagan and over the next few weeks I have Jack Dee, Sean Lock, Paul Merton and Al Murray to look forward to. This is an easy top up of positivity as is the channel Dave which always has something to make me smile. But you know who I feel sorry for – those individuals that were born without a sense of humour.
I’m not talking about those who are on the Autistic spectrum who struggle with humour – because actually many I’ve met or taught over the years can be really funny and like laughing – I’m talking about those people that we all know that had their funny bones removed at birth, you know the ones that smile politely but don’t understand as the rest of the room is rolling about guffawing and gasping for breath. Why are they always in reasonably high positions in the workplace too? I’ve found it tends to be either middle aged women or young men – both trying too hard to impress everyone around them to find the funny in anything life throws at them.
My dear old Mum falls into this category I’m afraid – well she used to but seems to have mellowed a bit – but as a child I remember sitting watching “You’ve been framed” and her finding it hilarious to the point where she couldn’t breath. Even as a kid I found this weird because once you’ve seen one person fall in a river from a rope swing… To be fair to Mum she does find things funny compared to some people I’ve met. You really wonder what kind of life, or friends, these automatons have. Home life must be a serious of grey events fading into the next. They often do that simpering smile as if they are joining in but inside you can see they despise the fact others are having a good time when there’s work to be done.
They’re quick to burst fun too and love making little “innocent” comments to remove any kind of joy from a room at ten paces. It is often the jobsworths of life that are wired like this. And rather than getting angry with them you feel sorry for them and wish they could experience a real hearty belly laugh – just once, so they can get that kick of chemical in their brains and turn their monochrome lives Technicolor. But they never will, or at least until it’s too late to appreciate it. You sometimes see them at comedy gigs having been taken along by a friend or partner just staring at everyone around them and the act as if we’ve got it wrong.
So don’t get upset by them – pity the poor souls. They’re probably going home to an empty house to match their empty lives and hearts. You have to laugh.