School boy humour

Shut down the humour workshops, close the satire magazines and fire all the stand ups. The absolute pinnacle and utter zenith of all comedy has been reached and it happened last night when the global spotlight fell on a football team called Young Boys who play at a stadium called the Wankdorf.

The world will now surely be darker place from here on in. Sure, we'll still be able to see guys getting hit in the balls by their children on You've Been Framed, and we may even manage to raise the odd smirk at the sight of a monkey masturbating on an internet link your colleague has sent you, but at the back of all our minds we'll have the heavy resignation that sexual innuendo about pre-pubescent boys thrown into football commentary has now been done and will never be bettered.

I was lucky enough to attend the game, taking place near the Swiss capital of Berne, in a little place called Wankdorf, in the Wankdorf stadium. I knew Wankdorf existed of course, but have, for a reason that I cannot begin to understand, never actually visited Wankdorf. If you'd have told me I would one day live within two hours train journey of a place called Wankdorf, I would reply that surely if that were to be the case then I would have no choice but to actually move into Wankdorf itself. I would take fresh pictures of the train station sign everyday, and begin to send postal letters regularly just so I could sign each letter 'in case of non delivery, please return to Wankdorf'.

The game itself was a blur of talk about being tight at the back, playing with spunk and keeping clean sheets. Afterwards I collapsed, a deflated and exhausted wreck. I think the football was supposed to have been pretty decent too.

The point I think I'm making here, as the lithium starts to kick in, is that to laugh at such things is not necessarily an indication that you have a ready built Friztel cellar in which you keep a selection of boy scouts for each occasion. The British press, reporting on the game, were the worst of all offenders, with a lot of the headlines feasting on the opportunity like a bulimic after a particularly cutting insult. But perhaps most of all, it's comforting to know that so many others sense of humour has evidently also stopped developing around the same time they starting crapping in a toilet.

Apparently in some cases, now that I am growing old and embittered, such jokes are 'inappropriate'. I strongly suspect that I'm not the only person who sometimes feels like the have woken up a decade or so after school, in an adult world in which they don't truly belong. I can do my job ok, even occasionally without the sort of incompetence that could bring the company crashing into oblivion in a heartbeat, but I am sometimes struck by a belief that at any moment someone will come around the corner, drag me out of my office and tell me that the game is up, this job isn't for someone who still secretly laughs at his own farts.

It was a relief therefore to see that this game with the unfortunately named Swiss team, seemed to reveal a similar outlook in humour from most people. And if you don't agree? Well you can address your letter of complaint to Mr A. Hole, Around the Corner and Up my Bum Street.