Why is it so funny when someone says “Don’t laugh!”?
Why are we sometimes prompted to snigger when it’s really quiet in the library or conference? Stifled snorts and hushed gasps for breath are such a challenge to our self control and dignity and it is such an overwhelming relief when you are able to escape to the outside world and guffaw to your heart’s content.
There is something rebellious about laughing when we are not supposed to. For some people, posh ‘doos’ where one is supposed to be on one’s best behaviour is like lighting laughter touch paper.
I once went to an extremely boring speech on local politics with a wicked friend and remember clutching my trembling leaflet in desperation as we struggled to resist the urge to laugh out loud. We both hid, shaking, two rows from the front and tried our best not to catch the other’s eye before another burst of muffled laughter would escape the confines of our mouths and be immediately hidden by the information pamphlets.
I remember returning home later, our sides still aching as we relived the memory of the laughter. We had not retained much local political information but had laughed ourselves dry.
Laughter is an immediate anti-dote to boredom and monotony. It reminds us of our school days and of flouting the educational code and the sheer delight of forbidden giggles.
Often at the Laughter Club towards the end of the Laughter Meditation when we do some relaxation exercises some people literally cannot stop laughing, and the group waits until they run out of steam. There is a joyfulness of feeling out of control, of mirth taking over, and letting it. Even if you don’t know why you are laughing or why you started somehow it doesn’t matter all that much.
No wonder many comedians begin their stories with, whatever you do, don’t laugh!
