I hate those blurred punchlines

Sorry I haven’t written a blog for a while. A friend was rushed to hospital to have a mole removed from the end of his penis. He won’t make the mistake of shagging another one!
Great joke that. I heard it this morning on BBC breakfast. I nearly choked on my Bran Flakes. Did you hear the one about the newly weds checking into the honeymoon suite? The hotel manager asked the bride if she had a reservation. She said “yes; I’m not going to let him take me up the arse!”
That one was on the radio whilst I was driving to work. Nearly crashed my car. No harm though, just a bit of fun and everyone loves a good joke right?! An innocuous celebration of our natural humour. A good joke, well it’s no different to a great soliloquy at the theatre, or the exhibits at the art gallery yes? My personal favourites are the ones that come on during the commercial breaks in the middle of Corrie. The best one I heard was about the little girl lost in the Supermarket. The security guard asked her “What’s your Mum like?” and the little girl replied “Big Cocks and Vodka!”

Of course, none of the above is true. I do love these kind of jokes though. Yet can you imagine them spewing forth from the TV and radio at all times of day? Be a bit weird? You’d wanna laugh, but you’d be more likely to be startled and think “did I just hear that?” “On BBC breakfast?” The humour would be lost in the shock of how inappropriate the joke was.

What if this was the norm though- everyday, whether you wanted to hear it or not? Broadcast media telling you about the dilemma of the boss who had to lay off Ann or Jack. “I have to lay you or Jack off” he said to Ann. “Well, you’d better Jack off, because I have a headache!” Ann replies.
You’d probably get used to it, but it would get tiresome having to explain it to your kids, and the longer it goes on the less funny the jokes would become. It would blur in your consciousness as you navigate your day. A time would come when you really wouldn’t care that spunk was white and piss was yellow so that men could tell whether they were coming or going. It would only be that odd moment when you’d stop to think, that the penny would drop. “Did they just talk about spunk? During the corrie adverts?” And the utter ridiculousness of what you’re hearing would hit you.

Of course, a lot of people would like it. They’d claim it was harmless fun. The people telling the jokes obviously enjoy doing it, and no one is forcing them. It’s not as bad as the jokes on the Internet they’d say. They’re REALLY filthy. This stuff is just innocent fun! But the problem with the jokes is that you can’t un-hear them. Once they worm their way into your ears and brain, they are part of your day. If you don’t like them, you just have to forget them, and you DON’T have to listen to the radio – if you don’t like them, don’t tune in! Until of course you’re getting your haircut, or in the supermarket, or dentists waiting room. Then, without warning you find out exactly why men are just like snowstorms. You never know when they’re coming, how many inches you’re gonna get, or how long they will last! Even though you didn’t tune in, it’s there, polluting what you hear. Just got to accept it as part of society right? It’s become an innocuous British institution after all..

But imagine if all of the jokes were at the expense of men… So that every day, gaggles of women would point and laugh at men who were innocently going about their business. “Ha ha – what do you call the useless bit of skin at the end of a penis? – HIM!” And yes, the men would complain at this, and the women would up the ante with more jokes “my doctor asked me if I knew what happens to my anal sphincter when I’m having an orgasm. I told her he’s at home, looking after the kids!” And the doctor would reply – “of course, if you can still hear him complaining, you’re not pressing down hard enough on the pillow!” Imagine it got to the point that the jokes existed entirely for the amusement of women, and were always at the expense of the men, everyday, everywhere “did you hear that Kellogg’s is releasing a new cereal for impotent men? It’s called Nut N Raisin Honey!” and every man that complained would be told to get over it, and stop being bitter that no one found THEM funny, that no one wanted to hear their pathetic dried up jokes that couldn’t raise a smile even from someone who was DESPERATE for a good laughing. You’re only jealous because other people are funny and you’re not! Get over it, just cos you’re BORING!

That sounds pretty bad, right? But what if that was just the tip of the iceberg? Despite their protestations, society dictates that men’s feelings are less important than women’s, so women feel they have the overriding entitlement to look at men as objects of humour. To make jokes and write songs about men because everyone knows men “must wanna get nasty, just let the humour liberate you!” You’re just a punch line baby; it’s in your nature – we know you want it!”

Imagine what that would be like. Ridiculous of course. Can you imagine! Thankfully, everything above is complete fiction. The idea of a cock joke on BBC breakfast! Think about it! How farcical! Thank the gods of all things firm and pert that men aren’t treated that way. It would be perverse. It would be exactly like reading the front page of a newspaper on a day a serious story had broken and turning the page to see a woman with her tits out. Thank heavens that could never happen, right?! Oh, what? The Sun?

What rhymes with hug me?