It’s not them… it’s their pun rejections.
The date was going so well, and you made me feel like an idiot. Puns are a huge part of my life, and here’s why.
The smirk. The wide, facile grin. The eyebrows raised in expectation of laughter and applause. This is a person who has just made an awesome pun. They look pretty damn selfsatisfi ed and they have no right to be. They look like they just disproved every scientifi c theory ever made, as if by their feats of wordplay they’ve rewritten the very laws of physics. If they’re going the whole hog, they point fingers to provide quotation marks, punctuating what they undoubtedly believe has surely just been a hideously, disgustingly, good pun. This article was always going to be ‘foggy’, but before I’ve ‘mist’ the point, let me just say: I love puns. I bloody love them. Puns make me happy. Whether they are genuine attempts at original humour, clear parodies of what has come before, or just utter fails, puns have the awesome and unifying power to bring the world together. Laughing at, laughing with, and laughing in disbelief that anyone was bold enough to say that uncool pun – it’s therapeutic. It’s like that guy I saw last week who wears a bicycle helmet shaped like a pig’s face. I respect you. You are self-aware. You know you’re a tiny bit dorky and you totally own it. I will love you forever.
So you know what gets me down? People who think they’re better than puns. I am firmly of the belief that absolutely no-one is better than puns. ‘Pun’-ctual laughter after a pun is obligatory. No matter the quality of the pun, no matter the speaker, it is an unwritten rule that one should at least giggle scandalously. I Kant speak on the philosophical necessity of puns, but they seem to me to be the glue which binds all human interaction together.
Puns are so fluffy and innocent, like that fresher who shows up to Oxford on the first day with colour coded pens and notebooks. And what’s more, they’re so easy to slip into any conversation. If you suffer from a lack of conversation topics and comedic skills, you can tell a pun knowing ‘full well’ that it will a ‘fountain’ of humour because if it goes wrong, you can pretend that you never meant for it to be funny. That your punnery was more ironic than a clothes press. If your audience is unreceptive, you can simply roll your eyes and everyone will love you for your faux-nerdiness. Do this, and everybody wins.
Let me tell you a story, dear reader. It was my first date with a lovely chap. He had a charming complexion and lots of thick, fluffy hair. We went to a pseudo-trendy restaurant with absurdly small portions and everything was going well. We chatted about out grandmothers, how much we hate people who say “therefore” in regular conversation, and the political issues in Syria. When the dessert came, I was happily scarfi ng down my sticky toff ee pudding and thought out one of my best puns.
The everlasting, most sacred bond of communal humour relies on all participants laughing at bad puns. I’m not going to set too high standards: even a groan whilst smiling, or an indulgent sigh with a tiny chuckle is enough to support this bastion of human experience. What one must never do is pretend that the puns aren’t funny. That is an act of treason. You are rebelling against the many gods of dorky, lexical-inspired humour, everywhere. I did not appreciate my date’s reaction to my punilariousness. He frowned at me and awkwardly changed the subject. At this point, I really wasn’t at all certain that the rest of the date would go to well.
Who are you trying to impress? Why are you trying to be cool? You’re not the cool cucumber you think you are. I hate to burst your bubble, but you’re not Kimye or Zayn Malik. You don’t even come close. We all know puns are funny. Good puns are funny and bad puns are funny. It’s impossible for a pun not to be funny. So just do yourself a favour and have a cheeky chuckle at that poor person who has put herself out there like a beautiful, radiant sunflower in the conversation, rather than lopping off that sunflower and consequently destroying all happiness in the world. Water the sunflower. Allow it to grow. Only good things can come from spreading the positivity that puns provide.
My pun was destroyed by you. You have not only off ended puns as a principle, but you have eff ectively eradicated any possibility for a second, or dare I say, third date. I wish you well Mr. Scrooge. Thanks for dampening my life. Respect humour. Respect human society. Respect yourself. Love puns.
