As one who thrives on a daily dose of wit and humour, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live in a world totally devoid of these indispensables. I try to picture the scenario and what emerges is truly dismal.
I envision unsmiling people going about their business mechanically, sulking over the smallest irritants. They scowl perpetually as if they’ve just emerged from a dental clinic after a root canal session where the drill forayed well beyond the root of the problem!
I am also reminded of the time when Punch—the celebrated UK humour magazine that was a staple in most upper class British homes—folded up for good in 2002 after decades of keeping the Brit’s proverbial ‘stiff upper lip’ quivering with suppressed amusement. The Englishmen then were said to have become even glummer, looking as though the end of the world was nigh.
The very thought of a humourless world—highly improbable though it is—makes me uncomfortable. I get my daily ‘high’ out of the most mundane things—like Dennis the Menace mischievously waving his harassed mother’s brassiere and remarking that the cups would make great ear muffs. Or the deadpan expression Leroy Lockhorn sports when, for once, he manages to silence Loretta, his shrewish wife, with a smart retort.
Or the murderous look on Sarge’s mug as he pursues the congenitally lazy Beetle Bailey, hell-bent on pounding him into pulp. Or the absolutely bemused look on General Halftrack’s countenance when his wife catches him sneaking into the house through a window after a late night out. Indeed, I’ve been a die-hard fan of these rib-tickling comic strips for as long as I can remember.
One certainly doesn’t need a riotous sense of humour to liven up things. When asked why a braggart in the office was in the habit of slapping friends heartily on the back, a colleague glibly explained it was only to help them swallow what he’d told them. And when a boss irately demanded of one of his staff, “Are you trying to make a fool of me?” the latter remained tongue-tied—only to comment to a friend later, “How could I tell him that the good Lord had beaten me to it?”
Sadly, nowadays not many newspapers run insightful political cartoons—delectable sources of mirth that tellingly highlight the foibles of our leaders and strip them of all their pomposity. So, all you talented humorists and cartoonists, rise and shine!
George N Netto
Email: gnettomunnar@rediffmail.com