Sense of humour - it's in your jeans.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

I have come to the conclusion that there is an autosomal recessive gene for laughter.

I spent my school days outside the headmaster's office, waiting for punishment for giggling in class. 

If the physics teacher mentioned "screw", or the geography teacher mentioned "route", that was me on my way down to the headmaster for six of the best.

My late father-in-law was a very serious man.

The injustices of the capitalist system weighed heavily upon him. Piss-your-pants hilarity was a stranger in his house.

I got to know him very well, to the extent that I became his confidant. But his response, when I shared with him the story of the Scotchman and the prostitute - my best joke at the time - was a small grunt of acknowledgement of the underlying premise of the joke.

Whether by nature or by nurture, most of his six children inherited his seriousness. They are probably better informed about the current state of the planet than I, and I can understand their lack of levity.

Some of my five daughters take after their maternal grandfather. "Stop those stupid jokes, Dad" was one of the longer verbal communications during the torment of their adolescent hormonal maelstroms.

Some, for better or worse, have become my drinking buddies, and pants-pissing is an inherent part of our relationship.

But they are all now beautiful adult professional women who bring me much pride and happiness.

I love my girls. They are justification for my existence. 

I am proud of their awareness of the appalling state of our planet. Anyone who is not seriously alarmed is just not paying attention. 

But gallows humour may be marginally effective as a distraction, and it's all we've got.

(Did you hear the one about the Scotchman and the prostitute?)