IT’S a funny thing, but I don’t really find jokes funny.
There are hundreds and thousands of things I find hilarious, don’t get me wrong, I love a laugh. It’s just that jokes rarely tickle my funny bone.
In a social situation with someone telling a joke, I am either the one who just doesn’t get it, or the one who has switched off after hearing “have you heard the one about…”.
I don’t know what it is. I’m just not a structured joke kind of girl.
What’s even worse is my lack of ability to tell a joke.
My timing is all wrong, I ruin the punchline every time and rarely remember the whole schtick.
Sadly, the gift of the gag bypassed me.
Which is why I was surprised on the weekend when my daughter told me she had made up a joke.
‘Excellent’, I thought. “Must remember to feign laughter.’
As it turned out, there was no need for pretend mirth; her joke was actually funny.
Of course I can’t quite remember it, but it was something about a horse’s favourite week of the year being NEIGHDOC Week.
I have friends who hold court at parties telling joke after joke to rapt audiences.
They do it well, too. But I always seem to find someone slipping on a pickled onion and spilling red wine over the buffet much funnier.
I think it’s called situational comedy.
In fact, I think whole television series have been built around the idea of finding comedy in the everyday, mundane things that often go unnoticed.
Shows about nothing in particular.
Much like my column this week.
What was I even talking about?
It’s funny, but I have no idea.