In our most recent storytelling meeting, Jolene began the session by asking each participant to share their initial associations with the theme. The words ‘‘ridiculous”, “survival”, “cover-up”, “cartoon”, “daft”, “you’ve just got to laugh”, “joy”, “release”, “laughter”, “electric fence”, “dark” and “caring” were suggested.
As the meeting progressed and everyone shared memories and associations, she said she had a fun time weaving those words into the poem which follows, in the spirit of play inspired by the theme.
Jolene Sheehan
It's a spark that fuels the flames of life,
Allowing us to rise above pain and strife
And even embrace the ridiculous.
It’s essential for the heart’s survival
A carnival wheel of creativity,
Transforming the raw and indigestible
Into an invitation to presence and intimacy
It's subjective in its cause and effect.
And though it can be a way to connect,
It can also be a cover-up
A way to make life cartoon-like or daft
So the disguise or chaos becomes a life raft.
It’s the second that you realise
you’ve been serious enough
And now you've just got to laugh.
It manifests in moments that bring surprise and release,
Like the joy of explosive laughter that offers relief.
Or the unexpected jolt from an electric fence
When you only touched it to play pretend.
It's a way of coping with life's events,
And the shadows they cast — a hovering question mark,
Transforming the lingering dot into a portal,
Through which we glimpse light amidst the dark.
It's a way of connecting and caring,
A universal language we can all share in.
This funny business
Is an industry of silliness
Where there's no you and me
Just the company of a joyful us.
Barry Taylor
Growing up, the one time that my mum’s pleasure in me felt unconditional – not tied to me performing well, at school, or for the neighbours – was when I made her laugh.
She laughed loud and with abandon, red in the face, gasping for breath. All her concern with being proper and respectable and well-presented fell away as her shoulders shook and she grabbed for her hankie. Suddenly she was like a big daft kid, and free.
For me, this was the great prize – getting her to be delighted with me without conditions or expectations. “Go on with you”, she’d say, “you bloody comedian”. It felt like laughter shook up our usual awkward roles and performances, and released us for a few moments into something real – authentic, unconditional pleasure in the other’s company.
Love, I’d call it now, without the obstacles and the complications.
Shane Murray
Up in the Morning’s the Game
“Up in the morning’s the game!” his dad announces gleefully, stirring him from his stupor.
“Would you like some porridge?”
A cup of tea is all he can manage.
He walks down the road for the Sunday morning shift at R S McColl’s. Since starting sixth form he has graduated from newspaper delivery boy to shop assistant. This is his school of theatre where he studies the quirks, tics and speech patterns of his customers and re-enacts them later for the amusement of his family. They especially love impersonations of their compatriots. Being the youngest, he worked out from an early age that the best way to get attention was to make people laugh.
The tidy little granny enters the shop and asks for her customary:
“Sunday Mirror, box of Maltesers and a Boo Boo Bunny please.”
Smartarse that he is, he can’t resist correcting her. “…and there’s your Bobo Bunny” passing over the comic for her grandkids.
The leprechaun hops in next and asks for his packet of Rizla and box of matches. He loves the way the man forms the word bOx with a little detonation in his crooked mouth.
Auntie Mary pops in for a pack of Embassy tipped.
“Howya Shane? My God, y’ve horrible dark hair!”
Mr. Murphy’s request for the “Noos of the Wuruld and a kwartara Kwalatistreet” always pleases him. While he dispenses a generous measure of chocolates from the big jar, he observes the manager Sid’s discomfort when Mr. Murphy asks:
“D’ye have me Furrranfurrria?”
“Pardon?”
“D’ye have me Furrranfurria?”
Sid looks blank and turns his furrowed brow to his young translator.
“What was that?” he whispers.
“No idea” he replies equally dumbfounded.
After several agonising seconds of embarrassed silence Sid finds inspiration.
“I’ll look into that Mr.Murphy and let you know when you’re next in.”
As soon as he has shuffled out of the shop Sid grabs the big black order book from under the counter, leafs frantically through the pages, stabbing a finger at a diary entry.
“What the f’… It’s “The Fur and Furrier’ magazine!!”
Later he replays the episode to his parents.
“What in the name of God is Joe Murphy doing with “The Fur and Furrier?”
“Sure, they must’ve come into money! You just wait. Mrs Murphy sporting a fur coat at Mass next Sunday”
His sister enters.
“Tell your sister!”
And so, the story is retold, embellished, embroidered – and they enjoy it all the more.
Pauline Omoboye
Humour is something I yearn for
It makes a difference to my day
It brightens up a sombre mood
Ít makes you want to play.
It comes in many art forms some have it naturally too
Its good to share with others
Its gift from me to you.
Humour sometimes come from deep within
It can take away some pain
Introduces some giggling
Soak up all the rain.
Because belly laughs are infectious
There’s a middle and an end
Tie it in a massive bow and pass it to a friend.
Humour can also be inherited
Through generations past
A little of it advisable
It makes you want to laugh.
Its often chosen to cover
Some things hard to take
But introduce some humour
The seriousness seems fake.
Now take a hand full of your humour
Put it in your pocket keep it secure
And when someone really needs it
Let’s offer it once more.
(C) Pauline Omoboye
Tony Goulding
Reflecting on this subject I identified a couple of significant differences on the way we can use humour. One way is to laugh at the foibles we all share as fallible humans, where the joke leads us to laugh at ourselves and with other people. Amongst this type are the slapstick movies of the early cinema and the antics of circus clowns.
The second sort is the cruel type of humour often of a sexist or racist nature which aims to highlight differences and make them things to be derided. These are the jokes in which we laugh at others.
There is also a crossover type of humour in which we poke the finger of fun at pompous or powerful people often by pointing out the human frailties they share with the rest of humanity. A good example of this type are the political cartoons seen in daily newspapers.
I can remember in my student days being intrigued by the work of a German sociologist, Georg Simmel and his theories of the role of humour in creating social bonding and how it can be used to relieve the stresses of modern life. Sarcasm and “gallows humour” would come in this latter category.
Annette Bennett
Laughter, it’s said
Is the best medicine.
In many ways
This is true,
An adage of old.
If only we could
Get this concept
Into our heads,
Act upon it
As we know
We should,
Our lives
Would be
So much happier.
Humour and fun
Help us
To see
Our lives,
With all their different
Complexities,
Situations,
Circumstances,
The wider world
Around,
In a more
Light hearted
Less serious way
We are told
Thus lightening our mood
Hopefully every day.
It is difficult
To laugh honestly
And be sad
In exactly
The same moment.
If we hear a good joke
Even one that is bad,
Someone tells
An amusing story,
We watch comedy on TV
Or a rib tickling movie,
We begin to chortle
Maybe giggle,
Our lips start to wiggle
Feeling that uncontrollable
Urge to laugh
Out loud
Lifting any
Dark clouds
Possibly from
Above us.
So let’s embrace
Humour
However it comes
Our way
And at least
We will have
A smile
On our faces
To stay
For a while.
The Stories of Our Lives 