Continuation on a Theme

In my last post I discussed laughter and what makes people laugh, now I'd like to continue that thought but perhaps take it back a step or two to discuss the fundamental idea behind laughter: the sense of humour.

There are various theories as to why human beings are equipped with a sense of humour, such as that laughter is a method of releasing tension, allowing us to avoid being frozen when it comes to deer-in-headlights situations; or my personal favourite, that since humans are the only animals who have advance knowledge of their own death a sense of humour is a sort of consolation prize to prevent us from going completely insane.

Then what about people who appear to have no sense of humour? Are they destined for insanity? Probably not, as the thing I'm referring to as a 'sense of humour' is completely based on personal perspective. For proof of this, you need look no further than your nearest national border. Jokes and humour change distinctly from country to country. One of my favourite examples of this is listening to jokes my Polish father translates into English. Here's an example of one of his favourites:

Some kids are shouting and laughing at an old man, "Anemic, anemic!"

(In a weak voice.) "Don't say that to me, kids, I'll set Rex on you.."

"Anemic, anemic, anemic!" 

(Weak voice.) "Kids that's mean, say it again and I'll set my dog Rex on you.."

"Anemic, anemic, anemic!"

(Weak voice.) "That's it, get 'em Rex...!"

(Weak voice.) "Woof..."

Ta da! What, you say? That was a punchline? Maybe it will make more sense if I hear it out loud.. Go ahead. Well? Nope, me neither. And yet when he's talking to relatives in his mother tongue it always makes them chuckle. This is one example of how humour doesn't quite translate. Another good one happened to me a few months back: Sam, Sebastian and I were in town and just leaving a shop where Sam had bought a film. I'll tell you now that Sebastian is Polish and as you may have gathered, I am half Polish. We all left and as Sebastian and I got outside Sam passed through and set off the security alarm. He went back in and Sebastian doubled over in hysterical laughter. I looked over at him, as did many people in the street, to ask what was quite so funny. "Don't you see?" He said, wiping tears from his eyes and gasping for air, "Two Polish guys leave a store and nothing happens. The one English guy with them sets off the alarm." And then he was doubled over laughing again and I couldn't help but join him. This was stereotype humour, but not in the Welsh-sheep-joke, but from within Poland. Sure enough, Sam needed a lot more explanation as to why we were both rolling around in the street than 'we're Polish, you're English.' "And the funniest thing," Sebastian was saying, "Is that you went back inside! A Polish guy would have sprinted off down the street!" And with that he was back in hysterics. It was a brilliant moment. British people make plenty of Polish jokes, but they're mainly your standard immigrants-stealing-our-women-and-jobs jokes to make the unemployed feel like its someone else's fault that they're unemployable. This was pure national stereotype humour which had the Poles bent double, wiping tears from their eyes and the Brits looking at each other as if they'd coughed and missed the punchline.

So if a sense of humour can differ between two people because of their nationality, surely the same could be said for why jokes in Newcastle and Liverpool might not translate. Or why I might laugh at something my brother scoffs at. Humour may be a distinctly human trait, but much like favourite colour or food it varies depending on who you talk to, or who's telling the joke.