Humor Journal

British Humour

Sometimes you’ve just got to laugh:

Sometimes you’ve just got to laugh:

Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About

via Genewolf.

I just love British humour, don’t you?

(now why does my spell checker keep underlining “humour” in red?)

5 replies on “British Humour”

Well, I’m not really sure how to respond to your comment, since I’m German and so is my mother and a few of my best friends, but I think I know what you mean. Though I’ve got to say that some English and American practices have had my left eyebrow hovering over my hairline for similar intrangiencies.

-Why, for instance, do Americans men always have to walk with their arms jutting out at the elbows? There isn’t some epidemic tumor growth in their armpits, is there? (Bush is classic)

-Why do British men always wear black socks with white tennis shoes? Is it an attempt to better contrast their pale white legs against the surrounding landscape?

-Why do American women always eat these enormous buckets of ice cream when they’re depressed? I mean the whole bucket, not just a few spoonsful!

-Why are British women in period movies always divided into two groups: the rosy-cheeked and plump dowstairs maid with the loud mouth and the thin and lank-haired upstairs governness who seems about to give up her ghost? Wouldn’t the upperclass women be better fed? Or is it the preponderant sea of tea in the gentlewomen’s diets?

I could go on about other cultures, but I guess Germans needed a little sugar to offset the imbalance! (•J•)v


Ah, I see that I could easily be misconstrued there. I love Germans, and often find myself playing apologist for them.

With my current girlfriend, for instance, who’s Indian, and doesn’t “get” Germany in the least.


Only kidding, commonbeauty… I know very well what you were trying to say. Don’t worry, I’m not so German as to completely miss the point of the jokes! (I spent most of my life outside Germany, so I can’t really say that I am German at all!).

I still remember being invited to a party in Kiel where everyone, when I arrived, was sitting around in serious discussion. For an hour I waited for someone to break the hush and say something to laugh at, but no, three hours went by and everyone continued with their serious discussions. This was a party, supposedly. I guess every culture has its own idea of what makes for an enjoyable time.

I don’t really “get” Germany either. I love the country, love my friends and relatives there, but don’t think I would be very happy living there. Too staid for my tastes. And perhaps too frank sometimes.


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