Wisecracking wisdom

Humour is serious business. However oxymoronic this may sound, it's true. Being able to make others laugh is an art. To be successful you must have knowledge of your audience, an impeccable sense of timing and, above all, a good memory.

There can be nothing worse than starting a joke only to suffer from memory loss after building towards a climax. At that crucial point in time your listeners don't want to hear a lame "Oh my gosh, I can't remember how it ends." To make matters worse, you might even try to improvise, which is adding insult to injury. Being unable to remember the punchline is akin to offering a starving man a tasty morsel only to withdraw the treat at the very last minute. So, if you don't have the best of memories, refrain from the impulse of taking on the role of comedian, especially at a social gathering. If you fail or falter, your reputation will suffer a blow from which it will be difficult to recover.

Worse still, the next time you're in company and say the words "Have you heard the one about…?" you'll be surprised at how quickly the people near you do the disappearing act. One moment they're there, the next they're not.

Being able to gauge audience reaction is important. The mood and ambience have to be just right. You can't expect a favourable response if you choose to inflict your jokes on someone who is preoccupied or clearly not in the mood for laughter.

If you persist despite these no-go signs, you will know exactly what the phrase "the joke fell flat" means. You might mutter something about people lacking a sense of humour but in your heart of hearts you know your timing was completely off.

Just as one's man meat is another's poison, one person's idea of what constitutes ‘funny' might be another's interpretation of ‘pathetic'. It pays to think before you start wise-cracking. If you're among close friends, it doesn't really matter. They'll laugh anyway or be blunt enough to tell you when to stop. But if you're among strangers, be careful about your choice of subject as you don't know the background of your audience. There is so much that is sensitive or politically incorrect these days.

Perhaps you've come across a person who is so enamoured of his own sense of humour that he starts laughing even before the narration starts. As you wait for the mirth to subside, you might even find yourself joining in the laughter although you haven't the foggiest idea what it's all about. You have good reason to presume that the person who is in splits must have a really good one to tell, so you wait patiently to hear the gag. As it unfolds, punctuated by fits of giggles, you are dismayed to find you've been let down by all that hype. Seeing someone tickled pink, you were misled into believing that this was going to be a real humdinger of a joke. And as you make up your mind whether or not the joke is worth expending laughter on, the narrator is in hysterics. That's when you realise that the person doesn't really require an audience. He is so taken up by his wit that his is the only sound of amusement.

Growing up in a household which harboured the harshest of critics was enough to wither one's sense of humour. The grim visages of siblings that refused to break into a smile were enough to daunt the bravest of wits. It says something for our resilience of character that we rose above this indifference. You see, despite the odds, we still possess a sense of humour.