by joetwo

Oh how I try to be debonaire

To fill my life with words of wit and wisdom

To speak with pause for thought

To rise above the baser self

And devote my life to the higher pursuits

But who am I kidding?

That’s not me.


Mine is a world of the puerile and the juvenile

Of fart-jokes and slap-stick

Of the double-entendre and the hidden meaning

No phrase too coarse, no taboo too sacred

To be used for a quick laugh

The shock only adding to the giggle factor


It’s a case of numbers you see

The gross, the crass, the simple

Hit the spot quicker

While higher humour stalls in the explanation

To tell you why it’s funny, to politely request a chuckle

The base strides forth with impunity

Dragging forth riotous laughter with little regard to consequences.


The base strides back to the simplicity of the child

When the belch was an art form

And falling a spectator sport

That child has never left

Hidden from view

Emerging only in the explosive laugh at the lowest levels

It needs no justification, no basis for what brings humour

 The answer is in the laugh, it just is.