No Laughing Matter

Just when I thought there wasn't a lot to laugh about, there really wasn't a lot to actually laugh about. Racquel invited me to the Laughter Lounge on Thursday night and, because Lodger No. 2 was in his third hour of boiling chicken and talking on his mobile, I was happy to escape and figure how I could improve things at home. I’ve come down from landlady heaven with a bang, the honeymoon is over and we’ve only been in the same house for five days. I know CC#2 can’t wait to say ‘I told you so’.

The comedy night was a fundraiser for the medical treatment of two children from Tramore, Ryan and Ethan, with a rare disease, ALD. Now, that is no laughing matter.

The best laughs that night were with Racquel’s assorted friends before the show. We were surprised to find a Geordie compére, a sort of emaciated Les Dawson, who must have been more familiar with workingmen’s clubs in Northern England than our very mixed audience. We began to look at each other slowly, open-mouthed as he tumbled out scrotal gags and fellated his way through a screeching monologue at the hen parties up front. And, when he got tired of that he ranted about David Cameron. Interestingly, nobody in the audience responded to his political diatribe, I think  because we'd probably prefer Cameron to our last two prime ministers.

It must be one of the hardest things to do, stand-up comedy, some of them should never get up on stage in the first place, like the Cavan man trying to be Jack Dee, telling wife jokes that could have come from a Christmas cracker. We all agreed we’re not prudes, we’ve just sort of grown out of cheap lavatorial gags. Thankfully, one act with three young guys elicited peals of laughter, great timing, great sketches and an impressive imitation of a blow-up doll. Christopher Hitchens argues that women can't be funny, their brains aren't wired for humour. Well I'd like to argue that one back with him, except he died last year, leaving us with that piece of pointless research.

Yes, the evening took my mind off my poor tenant selection process. Though he’s a very nice chap, Lodger No.2 will have to go. And I am not very good at doing that kind of thing, never having evicted anyone before. 

It was a very late night by the time Racquel and I got the rest of the world’s affairs put right. As I drifted to sleep, I remembered someone telling me that finding humour in adversity is a crucial survival tool, a coping mechanism. According to Victor Frankl, it saved many people in concentration camps. I’m beginning to see how writing the blog and finding humour in the everyday is sort of helping with the ordeal of sharing my home.