The Neuromantics â S2, Ep 10
Will Eaves & Sophie Scott
If youâre funny and you know it, youâre probably not funny. Equally unfunny are the theories of humour (such as: comedy makes us feel superior; or: itâs about âviolationsâ of expectation), which donât say much about varieties of taste and wonât help you win over a tough crowd.
In âWriggly, Squiffy, Lummox, and Boobs: What Makes Some Words Funny?â, 2019, Chris Westbury and Geoff Hollis narrow the focus. What if humour turned out to be a semantic property of some words and not others? They look closely at a data set of 5,000 words rated for humorousness and find certain patterns â insults are funny, the âooâ vowel is funny, and so are various other phonemes, particularly a hard âkâ. As Mike Nichols once put it, ââCaseyâ is a funny name. Robert Taylor is not.â Itâs persuasive stuff, until you add a lot of other words â sense, that is â and begin to wonder what happens to âfunnyâ sounds in any extended context. Comedians on tour know all about this: âfunnyâ can be shared, but it isnât universal.
Things donât have to make one kind of sense, of course, and most comedy doesnât, because it relies on inversion and doubling up, either for the hell of it, or to make a point. The Nonsense Songs (1872) of Edward Lear turned the world upside down and âThe Jumbliesâ, famously, went to sea in a sieve: itâs delightful nonsense, because sieves canât be boats, but itâs also a parody of Victorian adventuring, so the innocence has a sharp edge to it. Even sharper are the thrills we get from tales of the macabre, such as Florence Sunnenâs (Nightjar Press, 2018), in which a bored undergraduate eats himself. The narrator watches her brother disappear, with his parentsâ approval. Real food is available, but the self-consuming prankster wonât touch it. When a joke goes on too long, or we laugh too hard, we like to say âStop!â, aware, perhaps, that misrule has a dark side. But no one does say it, here, and before long the chance to intervene has passed.