The UK prides itself on its comedic talent, boasting crops of classic and emerging heroes and heroines of the funny business throughout the ages. From the Two Ronneis to Tommy Cooper, from Billy Connolly to Bill Bailey; the reputation of Britain's mirth-making has seen us through two world wars and a fistful of recessions with a few laughs along the way.
A 2011 study asked 30,000 people in fifteen countries who they thought the least rib-tickling nation of people. Obviously, Germany came first, followed by Russia (naturally), Turkey (of course) and then....Britain! Cue outrage worthy of Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells and a pompous twirling of moustaches. Removing the pipe from our mouths, we looked down our monacles just long enough at the results to ask what the devil?
We have tried our level best, giving the world high-brow Oxbridge slapstick by Stephen Fry and Rowan Atkinson. We have produced honest and loveable flat-cap and whippet types like George Formby. We have represented the common man with acts such as Peter Kaye and Bernard Manning tapping into the heart of working-mens-club drollery for generation after generation. British comedy at its heart is about representing its people, in all forms and however big, bad and ugly. Pompous? Perhaps. Politically incorrect? Sometimes? Vaguely smutty? Always. But UK comedy reflects the wordish, bone-dry and razor-sharp wit of the actual British public, not a roomful of TV executives.
Just putting it out there, is it at all possible that America's rating has more to do with its conglomerate monopolisation of our global airwaves than its actual talent for laughter as a nation? How is it that tired old formats and repetitive programming like Big Bang Theory (geeks and one hot blonde) and Will and Grace (gay best friend again?) are held in higher esteem than some of the best and most intelligent, challenging comedy that the UK has to offer?
It may be that British comedy is just a bit too British. You sort of had to be there. Our jokes are so intrinsically entwined with our history, culture, class system and monarchist post-colonialism that our own particular brand of schadenfraude and joie de vivre is simply lost in translation. This may explain why colourless American situational comedy is so popular. Because it's easier. Besides, the Yanks scored below Belgium and France so the whole system's flawed, I say. Anyway, hats off to British comedy, even if the rest of the world doesn't get it. It's their loss.
A 2011 study asked 30,000 people in fifteen countries who they thought the least rib-tickling nation of people. Obviously, Germany came first, followed by Russia (naturally), Turkey (of course) and then....Britain! Cue outrage worthy of Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells and a pompous twirling of moustaches. Removing the pipe from our mouths, we looked down our monacles just long enough at the results to ask what the devil?
We have tried our level best, giving the world high-brow Oxbridge slapstick by Stephen Fry and Rowan Atkinson. We have produced honest and loveable flat-cap and whippet types like George Formby. We have represented the common man with acts such as Peter Kaye and Bernard Manning tapping into the heart of working-mens-club drollery for generation after generation. British comedy at its heart is about representing its people, in all forms and however big, bad and ugly. Pompous? Perhaps. Politically incorrect? Sometimes? Vaguely smutty? Always. But UK comedy reflects the wordish, bone-dry and razor-sharp wit of the actual British public, not a roomful of TV executives.
Just putting it out there, is it at all possible that America's rating has more to do with its conglomerate monopolisation of our global airwaves than its actual talent for laughter as a nation? How is it that tired old formats and repetitive programming like Big Bang Theory (geeks and one hot blonde) and Will and Grace (gay best friend again?) are held in higher esteem than some of the best and most intelligent, challenging comedy that the UK has to offer?
It may be that British comedy is just a bit too British. You sort of had to be there. Our jokes are so intrinsically entwined with our history, culture, class system and monarchist post-colonialism that our own particular brand of schadenfraude and joie de vivre is simply lost in translation. This may explain why colourless American situational comedy is so popular. Because it's easier. Besides, the Yanks scored below Belgium and France so the whole system's flawed, I say. Anyway, hats off to British comedy, even if the rest of the world doesn't get it. It's their loss.
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