Off The Cuff: A wry look at life

A sense of humour. What, according to you, most people lack and only you possess. Like the time you played a prank on a sibling which you thought was hysterically funny and which should have had your audience rolling in the aisles. Funny how no one else saw it that way. Instead, you were grilled by Mr and Mrs Supercop as to what depravity of mind had led you to do such a thing.

As I said earlier, most people have no sense of humour. You console yourself with the thought that your subtle superior sense of humour is not meant for the hoi polloi. What your brand of humour requires is a more intellectually inclined audience. Some-thing so hard to find.

And you have this wonderful joke which must be shared. So you wait patiently for the opportune moment. And wait and wait. Until at last you can wait no more. Just as time and tide wait for no man, your joke won't wait either.

So the next time you happen to have an audience, you come out with that gem of a joke. Seeing in your mind's eye your listeners absorbing the exquisite punchline. The smiles breaking out. Followed by the guffaws. The catching of breath as, helpless with laughter, they look at you with awed expression.

But what you get is this circle of blank faces. No trace of delight. No change in expression. So you repeat the punchline. Just in case no one heard the first time. This time round the silence is so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Realisation dawns. Your audience hasn't understood the joke. Maybe it was too subtle for this particular lot. Who are only capable of appreciating slapstick comedy. So, you've been keeping the wrong company. And you shudder as you recall the saying of one being known by the company one keeps.

If you're fortunate enough not to have experienced the above, you always have family to fall back on. Siblings who have taken a vow never to find anything you say funny. Never mind if they expect you to fall down laughing whenever they decide to crack a joke. And if you don't, you're accused of lacking a sense of humour. Only because you didn't crack up with laughter. On hearing an apology for a joke which only a manic-depressive might appreciate. After coming out of his depression. Many years later.

A recent survey on the world's funniest jokes found that tastes differ depending on nationality. One man's idea of a joke is a dirge to another.

On the other hand, you have a certain species who are convinced they are heaven's answer to your prayers. For a bit of laughter in your life. The ones with a wisecrack a minute. The kind that make you gag. And on whom a gag order should be issued. You find them haunting social gatherings - the spectre at the feast. One sighting of this species and you can say goodbye to any thought of actually enjoying yourself.

And then there's the friend who should have been christened Refrain. Who has this one really good joke which he trots out on every conceivable occasion. All right, you are partly to blame. Wasn't it you who roared like a hyena when you heard it the first time? So can you really blame your friend? You were the one who encouraged him with your delighted response. Made him feel he'd just cracked the joke of the century. You only have yourself to blame. Realising this sad truth, you brace yourself to a fate worse than death. Of having to listen ad nauseum to the same old tale told by an idiot.