With the whole world going through some, well, stuff right now, is it the wrong time to be joking around or is that precisely what we need? Is laughter ever inappropriate?
Pretty Funny
What consistently makes me laugh, even if I’m not in the mood? Well there’s a list of stand-up comedians too long to list but of note to me right now has to be Hannah Gadsby, Sarah Millican, Amy Schumer, Luisa Omielan, Laura Lexx, Sophie Duker, Sophie Hagen etc. Then there’s my family, my best friend (who’s also a stand-up comedian, which helps), the author David Sedaris, the TV series Spaced, Shrill and Better Things, the radio show I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue, any Christopher Guest film, Elvis creasing up in that version of Are You Lonesome Tonight, David Mitchell ranting about anything, and farts, which, I’m sorry, remain one of the highest forms of wit.
The fact is, laughter’s always been one of the most important things to me, I come from a family where making the best joke in the room and making other people laugh was the currency. It wasn’t the ‘defence mechanism’ it’s often accused of being; a way to avoid being real with each other. If anything it was the opposite, it was a way of loving each other, getting through things together, by, yea, ok, often making fun of each other. To this day my way of knowing if I’m going to be proper friends with someone hinges on whether they’ve made me laugh by taking the piss out of me yet.
It’s probably super shallow but to me there has always been nothing more impressive than making a funny. Or more sexy, come to that. I’ve only ever fancied people who make me laugh. I mean, I get that serious, pouty and brooding can be objectively attractive, but really, who wants to snog a mouth that doesn’t smile? You may as well date a trout.
As a teen I was utterly obsessed with comedy and comedians and of course I loved and was inspired by funny women like French and Saunders and Victoria Wood but I REALLY loved comedy duo Fry and Laurie, in a borderline-restraining-order kind of way. I wrote to Stephen Fry on an almost weekly basis with (ugh, the shuddering embarrassment just at the memory) truly awful comedy sketches I’d written. Wow. I know.
And as a socially awkward, plain and dumpy teen I thought it would work both ways, that my making of the jokes would get me guys. What I didn’t realise was that whilst everyone puts ‘GSOH’ at the top of their ideal partner list, women mean they want someone who makes them laugh, whereas guys mean they want someone who’ll laugh at their jokes. I think some boys can be intimidated by the gobby, opinionated funny girl who’s only way of letting you know she likes you is by loudly taking the piss out of you in front of others. Strange, right?
Then I found a guy who got it, who values the funny as much as me, who makes me laugh just as much as I make him laugh and knows that if he came home from work and said ‘I met this woman today who’s really beautiful’ that would be totally fine but if he said, ‘I met this woman today who’s really funny’ I would go bat-crap crazy at him.
And he shares my need to laugh my way through even the darkest times. Our daughter Clementine, who was born with numerous health issues, died at the age of ten (yea, I know this is a piece about laughter but bear with me). She died on the day when she was due to play an elf in the school Christmas play. It was clearly an acutely horrific day and one I find difficult to remember. Except for the moment when, hours after she’d gone, my whole family were gathered around her, silently crying and holding each other. Then my sister in law sighed and said, ‘wow, she really didn’t want to wear that elf costume, did she.’
And I remember that unifying release of love as we all laughed, through the tears. Humour united us in a way that nothing else could. Laughter, to my mind, is not only never inappropriate but is one of the most vital ingredients in getting through this thing called life.
Pretty Funny, by Rebecca Elliott, is released under the Penguin imprint in paperback.