'To write a book is hard; to write a funny book is harder; to write a funny book both wise and funny is the prerogative of Mr. Mikes' The Times _________________________ If you want to succeed here you must be able to handle the English sense of humour. So proclaims George Mikes' timeless exploration of this curious phenomenon. Whether it's understatement, self-deprecation or plain cruelty, the three elements he identifies as essential to our sense of humour, being witty here is a way of life. Perfectly placed as an adopted Englishman himself, Mikes delivers his shrewd advice - helpfully divided into 'Theory' and 'Practice' - with a comic precision that does his chosen country proud. Drawing on a trove of examples from our rich comic canon, from Orwell ("Every joke is a tiny revolution") to Oscar Wilde, this is the essential handbook for natives and foreigners alike. Mrs Kennedy: "I don't think, Mr Churchill, that I have told you anything about my grandchildren." Winston Churchill: "For which, madam, I am infinitely grateful."

A doorstopper of a collection of the very best of both contemporary and classic British wit and humour. From Monty Python's 'Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more . . .' to Dan Antopolski's 'Hedgehogs. Why can't they just share the hedge?'. From George Bernard Shaw to Michael McIntyre, from Eric Morecombe to Omid Djalili, and from Oscar Wilde to Jimmy Carr, a side-splitting look at Britain, the British and life in general. Including these gems from Britain's finest comedians: I was delighted to learn that my friend's schadenfreude was not as satisfying as mine. Armando Iannucci. I went on a girls' night out recently. The invitation said 'dress to kill'. I went as Rose West. Zoe Lyons For a while I was the perfect mother. Then the Pethidine wore off. Jenny Eclair. My girlfriend was complaining last night that I never listen to her. Or something like that. Jack Dee. Why do dogs always race to the door when the doorbell rings because it's hardly ever for them? Harry Hill. Arse-gravy of the very worst kind. Stephen Fry on The Da Vinci Code. You have to come up with this shit every year. Last week I just wrote "I still love you, see last year's card for full details." Michael McIntyre on Valentines Day. I went to the doctor and he said, 'You've got hypochondria.' I said, 'Not that as well!'Tim Vine. I have the body of an eighteen year old. I keep it in the fridge. Spike Milligan. When someone close to you dies, move seats. Peter Kay. My neighbour asked if he could use my lawnmower and I told him of course he could, so long as he didn't take it out of my garden. Eric Morecambe. My dad's dying wish was to have his family around him. I can't help thinking he would have been better off with more oxygen. Jimmy Carr. Eighty-two point six per cent of statistics are made up on the spot. Vic Reeves. A bird in the hand invariably shits on your wrist. Billy Connolly. Getting divorced isn't like a bereavement at all, because if he's died, I'd have had me mortgage paid, and I could've danced on his grave. Sarah Millican. My greatest hero is Nelson Mandela: incarcerated for 25 years, he was released in 1990, he's been out about 18 years now and he hasn't re-offended. Ricky Gervais. If you want to confuse a girl, buy her a pair of chocolate shoes. Milton Jones. Phil Collins is losing his hearing, making him the luckiest man at a Phil Collins Concert. Simon Amstell. We'll continue our investigation into the political beliefs of nudists. We've already noticed a definite swing to the left. Ronnie Barker. A guy walks into the psychiatrist wearing only Clingfilm for shorts. The psychiatrist says, "Well, I can clearly see your nuts. Tommy Cooper

A compelling guide to the fundamental place of humour and comedy within Western culture—by one of its greatest exponents Written by an acknowledged master of comedy, this study reflects on the nature of humour and the functions it serves. Why do we laugh? What are we to make of the sheer variety of laughter, from braying and cackling to sniggering and chortling? Is humour subversive, or can it defuse dissent? Can we define wit? Packed with illuminating ideas and a good many excellent jokes, the book critically examines various well-known theories of humour, including the idea that it springs from incongruity and the view that it reflects a mildly sadistic form of superiority to others. Drawing on a wide range of literary and philosophical sources, Terry Eagleton moves from Aristotle and Aquinas to Hobbes, Freud, and Bakhtin, looking in particular at the psychoanalytical mechanisms underlying humour and its social and political evolution over the centuries.

Like many ambitious New York City teenagers, Craig Gilner sees entry into Manhattan's Executive Pre-Professional High School as the ticket to his future. Determined to succeed at life—which means getting into the right high school to get into the right college to get the right job—Craig studies night and day to ace the entrance exam, and does. That's when things start to get crazy. At his new school, Craig realizes that he isn't brilliant compared to the other kids; he's just average, and maybe not even that. He soon sees his once-perfect future crumbling away.

This book skilfully combines cutting-edge historical research by leading and emerging researchers in the field to investigate the utilization of British humour during the Second World War as well as its legacy in British popular culture. Juliette Pattinson and Linsey Robb bring together case studies that address a variety of situations in which humour was generated, including wartime jokes, films, radio, cartoons and private drawings, as well as post-war recollections, museum exhibitions and television comedy. By adopting an original interpretative framework of various wartime and post-war sites, this books opens up the possibility for a more variegated, richer analysis of Britain's wartime experience and its place thereafter in the cultural imagination. Through the lens of humour, this book promises to add critical nuance to our understanding of the functioning of British wartime society. Covering sources such as The British Cartoon Archive, BBC World War II People's War Archive and The Ministry of Information, and including analysis of the lasting role of comedy in Britain's memories and depictions of the war, the result is a rich addition to existing literature of use to students and scholars studying the cultural history of war.

Originally written for Debrett's Peerage, Douglas Sutherland's guide to that endangered species, the English Gentleman, was intended as an antidote to all the endless, dull little books on manners and etiquette. It offers a window on the rather perverse world of the genuine article.

Farce has always been relegated to the lowest rung of the ladder of dramatic genres. Distinctions between farce and more literary comic forms remain clouded, even in the light of contemporary efforts to rehabilitate this type of comedy. Is farce really nothing more than slapstick-the "putting out of candles, kicking down of tables, falling over joynt-stools," as Thomas Shadwell characterized it in the seventeenth century? Or was his contemporary, Nahum Tate correct when he declared triumphantly that "there are no rules to be prescribed for that sort of wit, no patterns to copy; and 'tis altogether the creature of imagination"? Davis shows farce to be an essential component in both the comedic and tragic traditions. Farce sets out to explore the territory of what makes farce distinct as a comic genre. Its lowly origins date back to the classic Graeco-Roman theatre; but when formal drama was reborn by the process of elaboration of ritual within the mediaeval Church, the French term "farce" became synonymous with a recognizable style of comic performance. Taking a wide range of farces from the briefest and most basic of fair-ground mountebank performances to fully-fledged five-act structures from the late nineteenth century, the book reveals the patterns of comic plot and counter-plot that are common to all. The result is a novel classification of farce-plots, which serves to clarify the differences between farce and more literary comic forms and to show how quickly farce can shade into other styles of humor. The key is a careful balance between a revolt against order and propriety, and a kind of Realpolitik which ultimately restores the social conventions under attack. A complex array of devices in such things as framing, plot, characterization, timing and acting style maintain the delicate balance. Contemporary examples from the London stage bring the discussion u