red indian
2nd Level Yellow Feather
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IT'S THE LAND OF THE HUMOUR FREE
By Kevin O'Sullivan
WE were sipping a drink in Los Angeles when I turned to my fellow ex-pat, actor Tim Curry, and asked him what he missed most about Britain.
The former Rocky Horror Show star - now carving out a Hollywood career as a classic English bad guy - barely needed time to think before giving his one-word answer.
"Irony," he said.
And we both smiled and nodded because he had hit the nail right on the head.
After years of living there, I have to say that California may be sunny - but it sure ain't funny.
I pay due respect to great wits such as Mark Twain, Gore Vidal and even Woody Allen. And I offer appropriate deference to brilliant comedy shows such as Seinfeld, Frasier and, at its best, Friends.
But, among its regular Joe citizens, the nation's increasing obsession with political correctness has taken a terrible toll on its capacity for clever humour.
A naturally earnest bunch, they seem to take everything at face value. If they screened The Office on NBC or CBS they'd think it was a documentary. I kid you not.
A typical conversation between a Brit and a Yank about an awful new movie, might go something like this.
Brit, voice dripping in sarcasm: "Oh yeah, that's a great film. The best I've ever seen."
Yank, brow furrowed in confusion: "You think so? I quite enjoyed it but I don't think it was the best movie ever made. I believe Citizen Kane was far superior, although that wasn't an animated feature."
They go on in the same straightfaced way about their social interactivity, their important "charidee" work (usually by way of a tax break), their mind-improving multi-task communal help group and their life-changing-child-within-you management classes.
The use of irony, satire, double entendre - and almost anything short of a custard pie in the face - is liable to rebound on you in spectacularly embarrassing fashion.
True story: At a barbecue I decided to risk a little cultural quip.
"How many Californians does it take to change a light bulb?" I asked.
"Dunno," came the communal response.
"One hundred," I declared.
"One to carry out the task and 99 to share the experience."
After about 30 seconds of excruciating silence one of them piped up: "But what would you get out of sharing the experience of changing a light bulb? I don't understand why anyone would want to do that."
His chums nodded in grave agreement while I looked for a hole to swallow me up.
A friend once tried to crack an admittedly feeble joke about the Canadian city of Vancouver being so behind the times that the initials "B.C." which accompany it must surely stand for Before Christ.
No one laughed.
Then an American woman leaned over and said in all seriousness: "No, I think you're confused. Vancouver B.C. stands for the Canadian state British Columbia."
My pal still turns a bright shade of red when he recalls how he found himself adopting a suddenly enlightened expression while thanking her for putting him straight.
They just don't get it.
And, to show that the joke will always be on them, the Americans think it is us who have no sense of humour.
That would be because our comedians don't shout, talk nonsense at machine-gun speed or litter all their tales with "mother f***er".
Robin Williams? I've met funnier undertakers.
Adam Sandler? Funny voice - unfunny guy.
It was hysterical when that weirdo Pee Wee Herman got caught in the act in a porn movie cinema - but until then what kind of nation elevated this insomnia cure to the status of important comic icon? The list goes on.
The one British funnyman that every American loves is the late, not particularly great Benny Hill.
Think of his juvenile, saucy slapstick - the kind of stuff that long since died a death in Britain - and you have what has the average American in stitches.
There is much to be said for Americans.
They are generous hosts, genial companions and thoughtful friends.
But after nine years of life in LA-LA land, I still remember how I devised a way of using their ironyfree environment for my own Brit-style amusement.
After being pinned to the wall by a particularly boring example of the species I would turn to them and say: "I've really enjoyed your company. You are an exceptionally fascinating person."
We'd go our separate ways, both wearing wide smiles.
But not for the same reason.
OK lads and lassess "compare and contrast" as they say and I want your essays on my desk by monday week.....Tally Ho!!
By Kevin O'Sullivan
WE were sipping a drink in Los Angeles when I turned to my fellow ex-pat, actor Tim Curry, and asked him what he missed most about Britain.
The former Rocky Horror Show star - now carving out a Hollywood career as a classic English bad guy - barely needed time to think before giving his one-word answer.
"Irony," he said.
And we both smiled and nodded because he had hit the nail right on the head.
After years of living there, I have to say that California may be sunny - but it sure ain't funny.
I pay due respect to great wits such as Mark Twain, Gore Vidal and even Woody Allen. And I offer appropriate deference to brilliant comedy shows such as Seinfeld, Frasier and, at its best, Friends.
But, among its regular Joe citizens, the nation's increasing obsession with political correctness has taken a terrible toll on its capacity for clever humour.
A naturally earnest bunch, they seem to take everything at face value. If they screened The Office on NBC or CBS they'd think it was a documentary. I kid you not.
A typical conversation between a Brit and a Yank about an awful new movie, might go something like this.
Brit, voice dripping in sarcasm: "Oh yeah, that's a great film. The best I've ever seen."
Yank, brow furrowed in confusion: "You think so? I quite enjoyed it but I don't think it was the best movie ever made. I believe Citizen Kane was far superior, although that wasn't an animated feature."
They go on in the same straightfaced way about their social interactivity, their important "charidee" work (usually by way of a tax break), their mind-improving multi-task communal help group and their life-changing-child-within-you management classes.
The use of irony, satire, double entendre - and almost anything short of a custard pie in the face - is liable to rebound on you in spectacularly embarrassing fashion.
True story: At a barbecue I decided to risk a little cultural quip.
"How many Californians does it take to change a light bulb?" I asked.
"Dunno," came the communal response.
"One hundred," I declared.
"One to carry out the task and 99 to share the experience."
After about 30 seconds of excruciating silence one of them piped up: "But what would you get out of sharing the experience of changing a light bulb? I don't understand why anyone would want to do that."
His chums nodded in grave agreement while I looked for a hole to swallow me up.
A friend once tried to crack an admittedly feeble joke about the Canadian city of Vancouver being so behind the times that the initials "B.C." which accompany it must surely stand for Before Christ.
No one laughed.
Then an American woman leaned over and said in all seriousness: "No, I think you're confused. Vancouver B.C. stands for the Canadian state British Columbia."
My pal still turns a bright shade of red when he recalls how he found himself adopting a suddenly enlightened expression while thanking her for putting him straight.
They just don't get it.
And, to show that the joke will always be on them, the Americans think it is us who have no sense of humour.
That would be because our comedians don't shout, talk nonsense at machine-gun speed or litter all their tales with "mother f***er".
Robin Williams? I've met funnier undertakers.
Adam Sandler? Funny voice - unfunny guy.
It was hysterical when that weirdo Pee Wee Herman got caught in the act in a porn movie cinema - but until then what kind of nation elevated this insomnia cure to the status of important comic icon? The list goes on.
The one British funnyman that every American loves is the late, not particularly great Benny Hill.
Think of his juvenile, saucy slapstick - the kind of stuff that long since died a death in Britain - and you have what has the average American in stitches.
There is much to be said for Americans.
They are generous hosts, genial companions and thoughtful friends.
But after nine years of life in LA-LA land, I still remember how I devised a way of using their ironyfree environment for my own Brit-style amusement.
After being pinned to the wall by a particularly boring example of the species I would turn to them and say: "I've really enjoyed your company. You are an exceptionally fascinating person."
We'd go our separate ways, both wearing wide smiles.
But not for the same reason.
OK lads and lassess "compare and contrast" as they say and I want your essays on my desk by monday week.....Tally Ho!!
. As for Ernie, it was great fun to dress up as him for Halloween once-I, um, have a slightly different figure and the tight striped shirt did interesting things with it 
)
