IT'S A FUNNY THING, HUMOUR Edited by ANTONY J. CHAPMAN and HUGH C. FOOT Welsh Branch, British Psychological Society Illustrated by Roy R. Behrens PERGAMON PRESS OXFORD • NEW YORK TORONTO • SYDNEY PARIS • FRANKFURT U.K. Pergamon Press Ltd., Headington Hill Hall, Oxford OX3 0BW, England U.S.A. Pergamon Press Inc., Maxwell House, Fairview Park, Elmsford, New York 10523, U.S.A. CANADA Pergamon of Canada Ltd., 75 The East Mall, Toronto, Ontario, Canada AUSTRALIA Pergamon Press (Aust.) Pty. Ltd., 19a Boundary Street, Rushcutters Bay, N.S.W. 2011, Australia FRANCE Pergamon Press SARL, 24 rue des Ecoles, 75240 Paris, Cedex 05, France WEST GEPMANY Pergamon Press GmbH, 6242 Kronberg-Taunus, Pferdstrasse 1, Frankfurt-am-Main, West Germany Copyright (c) 1977 Pergamon Press Ltd. A11 Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publishers First edition 1977 Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data International Conference on Humour and Laughter, Cardiff, Wales, 1976. It's a funny thing, humour, the International Confer­ ence on Humour and Laughter, held in Cardiff, July 13th- 17th 1976, under the auspices of the Welsh Branch of the British Psychological Society. Bibliography: p. 1. Wit and humor-Psychology-Congresses. I. Chap­ man, Antony J. II. Foot, Hugh C. III. British Psycho­ logical Society. Welsh Branch. IV. Title: It's a funny thing, humour ... PN6149.P5I5 1976 152.4 76-53731 ISBN 0-08-021376-6 (Hardcover) ISBN 0-08-021377 (Flexicover) In order to make this volume available as economically and rapidly as possible the authors'typescripts have been reproduced in their original form. This method unfortunately has its typographical limitations but it is hoped that they in no way distract the reader. Printed in Great Britain by A. Wheaton & Co., Exeter Preface It is always difficult to trace the origins of an idea, and the idea for the International Conference on Humour and Laughter is no exception. Suffice it to say that we became aware of the rapidly increasing academic interest in humour and laughter, and that it was the Welsh Branch of the British Psychological Society which provided the opportunity to organize an international gathering. Delegates from sixteen nations were in Cardiff between July 13th and July 17th 1976, and this book contains reports of the papers that were presented. Guest comedian, Ken Dodd, endeared himself to other delegates with an address that was scholarly and informative. It was also very funny. He argued that no-one can 'make' anyone else laugh - laughter, he said, is a gift. He concluded his address with a plea that nobody should ever discover or disclose 'the key' to humour. He can rest assured that no sane person could currently be harbouring any such irreverent ambition. To date, analysts have barely begun to scratch the surface, revealing the vast complexities in humour and in responsiveness to humour. Ue are still at the stage where close examination seems only to enhance the elusiveness of humour, and that is especially the case when closer scrutiny involves mingling with researchers having other orientations and interests. If we are to make worthwhile statements about humour, then there is no doubt that^ much more than at present, we need to exchange ideas and communicate knowledge across disciplines. Moreover, within the discipline of we Editors - Psychology - we need to be extremely catholic in the types of methodologies employed. The majority of delegates at this Conference were academics and most were psychologists, but other academic disciplines were represented too: for example, Anthropology, Communication, Education, English, French, Mathematics, Philosophy, Politics, Psychiatry, Social Work, and Sociology. Then there were school teachers and there were others from outside the world of teaching and research. Hopefully, the balance across disciplines will be spread more evenly at any future international humour conference. In general terms, the structure of the book reflects the structure of the Conference Programme, with contributions falling into ten main sections. Eight of these sections correspond to the eight symposia presented during the Conference; they are sandwiched between two sections arising from the various sessions of 'individual' papers. The papers comprising the opening section are somewhat more theoretical in focus than those in the closing section, although to some extent the division is arbitrary. Certainly many of the 'individual' papers were suitable for symposia and we were often spoilt for choice when designing the Programme. Each of the 'symposia sections' has an introductory chapter, a short series of papers, and some brief evaluative comments. Opening chapters are based upon the Symposia Chairpersons' introductory talks, and they constitute overviews of the areas under discussion. Symposia Discussants have supplied the concluding comments, and some of them allude directly to points made from the floor during open discussion. Only a handful of all the contributions here appear in the form read at the Conference; most have been modified. The bibliography is extensive and has been drawn up over a number of years. It is intended to contain all analyses of humour, laughter and comedy published in English, We should be grateful to be told of any errors and omissions, and also to be kept informed of new work. The Conference was the first of its kind and it provided rich material for the press and broadcasting media. In 1977, the BBC is to present a television programme on the Conference, produced by Derek Trimby. The press comments have been reproduced and are available from Pergamon in 'scrapbook' form. On the whole, press coverage was fair and unprejudiced but some was flagrantly dishonest. For example, 'Time' was one magazine which reported a paper that was not in fact presented. The Speaker was in hospital and consequently his paper featured in the Programme only! Then again, a writer in 'Punch' was guilty of the same howler and was also inaccurate on a number of 'details'. His analysis was couched in a curious mixture of past and present tense - that article appeared on the bookstalls immediately before the Conference was underway] xz xzv Preface Most journalists did attend those papers about which they chose to write. However, it is evident from some reports that they did not always follow what was said, but we must hasten to admit that, on some occasions, this does not reflect any inadequacies on their parti Some of the jargon issued from the platform was unfortunate and served to inhibit communication. We regret that a degree of this creeps over to the book. Some of the extensive publicity received before the outset of the Conference and during it, brought home the fact that 'humour' and 'laughter' are not yet recognized by many as legitimate topics for serious study, and the unnecessary jargon may sometimes have slipped in as a form of defence against anticipated criticism. Of course, the jargon itself then became the subject for fun. You have only to thumb through the Pergamon 'scrapbook' to see this. The smooth, day-to-day running of conference events resulted in no small part from the resourceful and assiduous assistance given by our students, graduates and friends. Jean Smith, Mary Jones and Liz Pritchard worked cheerfully through endless hours during July and, at the Conference, were joined by Pauline Corbett, Ann Davies, Isabelle Davies, Nick Gadfield, John Haigh, Brenda Klug, Rob Mason, Kathie Osborne, Alison Turnbull, and Paul Twynham. For more than a year we had the solid backing of the clerical and technical staff in UWIST's Applied Psychology Department. It was a pleasure working with all these people and with those from Traherne Hall of Residence. We can imagine no finer group of fellow- workers and friends. In the production of the book, Liz Clarke was magnificent. All of it was typed in camera- ready-copy during her 'spare-time' over a period of two months, and readers can see for themselves the superb quality of her work. Pam Morris, again in 'spare-time', provided some support towards the end when alterations were necessary and the deadline had been brought forward by several weeks. Jean Smith and Liz Pritchard proof-read the typed plates with us, and they were of enormous help in this respect. Ue are grateful to the BPS Welsh Branch and, particularly to our friend and colleague Tony Gale who formally proposed that the Conference be convened. We are also grateful to the Social Science Research Council for allowing us to grant nominal travel awards to newly established research workers in attendance. Otherwise, the Conference financed itself. The book should provide interesting reading to people from all backgrounds. Within humour and laughter, it covers a very wide range of issues, and it contains many insights and much fresh information. But there is certainly no single 'key' to be found in these pages, and we do not believe that such a key exists. For those who have not begun to study humour in a systematic or serious fashion, the book will illustrate if not confirm, Ken Dodd's words: 'It's a funny thing, humour.' Welsh Regional Office Tony Chapman British Psychological Society Hugh Foot c/o Department of Applied Psychology UWIST Cardiff September 1976 Foreword In this book are assembled the papers, or abstracts of papers, delivered at the Conference on Humour and Laughter held in July, 1976. During the last session of that Conference, the audience was asked if the Conference might end up by trying to produce a definition of humour. The response was overwhelmingly negative; nor was any attempt made to work out a taxonomy of laughter, though of course individual authors did talk about their own definitions and taxonomies. So, as far as this book is concerned, humour and laughter must be defined in terms of what the authors have chosen to talk about. There does seem to be some measure of agreement, perhaps because the large majority of contributors have English as their first language. Also the contents of this book may be taken to represent a fairly good sample of the work English-speaking psychologists (mainly) are doing, since the conveners of the Conference, Dr. Chapman and Dr. Foot, were very successful in their preliminary publicity. Anyone interested was almost certain to hear about it beforehand, and as Editors they have tried to give all-comers a platform, whatever the focus of the work or the idiosyncracies of the authors. It should be said that there may have been another unifying factor. Chapman and Foot's excellent survey "Humour and Laughter: Theory, Research and Applications" was published earlier in 1976. Many contributors to this present book were familiar with it and had been brought up to date with current work, and, of course, with the viewpoints of the Editors. In their Introduction to that book, the Editors make it clear that there are many kinds of humour and laughter, and that there are no simple one-to-one connexions between them. It is still worth referring back to Flugel's classic 1954 survey for a scholarly discussion of definitions and taxonomies. Comparing his study with the contents of these proceedings it is instructive to find how little change there has been in the concerns of those trying to analyze humour. There are more experiments being done and some of the jargon is different, but many of the hypotheses are similar, though Flugel's own background thinking was more influenced by psychoanalysis than is the case for most of the present contributors. Also, he was concerned with laughter as much as with humour, whereas here there are five times as many contributions on humour. Why study humour? As Chapman and Foot have pointed out, the lack of psychological and related research on humour is noteworthy, especially since so much everyday behaviour and conversation involves humour and laughter. That fact alone should be enough to start anyone with an inquiring mind. If psychologists are to do the job properly, then it seems to me that they should attempt to find answers to the following, with respect to both humour and laughter: the probability of their occurrence under various conditions; their ontogeny and, according to some contributors, phylogeny; individual differences in reactions, and differences between cultures and sub-cultures, and changes over time; neurophysiological correlates; the effects of humour and laughter on other people; their relation to social structure and group dynamics. On the applied side, as this book shows, there is growing interest in the use of humour and laughter in therapy and in persuasion. If the work is to be done rigorously, it needs careful categorising of the various kinds of humour and laughter, sophisticated experimental and observational techniques and new methods of measurement are still needed; and one of the main problems in this kind of research, as contributors have shown themselves to be well aware, lies in translating results from controlled experimental settings to what might be expected in day-to-day behaviour. Since probably before Plato there have been theories about humour and laughter. At present the theories seem to be particularly related to developmental stages, to understanding the functions of humour and laughter, and to explaining what is psychologically different about a humorous situation. The theories have three main orientations - cognitive, social and deriving from psychoanalysis - and of course one needs all three if all aspects are to be covered. Functional explanations attract a great deal of attention and disagreement, not surprisingly since they are intended to answer the most interesting questions and yet are in practice untestable. The writer has to admit that his main interest lies in trying to understand the functions of humour and laughter, with related interests in developmental changes and changes with fashion. Laughter is easier to deal with than humour, possibly because there are not so many definitional problems. It is obvious that there are many different kinds of occasion when laughter may occur. In his early (1942) study of laughter in young children, Walentine listed fifteen categories. They are worth recording, to show the need for a taxonomy, and because they are suggestive of explanations of adult laughter, and humour. They are: (1) expression of delight, (2) response to laughter or smile of another, (3) sight of a bright or pleasing xiii xiv Foreword object, (4) tickling or jogging, (5) mild shock or surprise, (6) repetition, as in the peep-bo game, (7) the incongruous, as of the child's own name or the sight of his face in a mirror, (9) accomplishment of some new form of activity, (10) teasing, (11) mild discomfiture of another, (12) laughter in the course of social play, (13) laughter to make another laugh, especially after doing something naughty, (14) incongruity in words or ideas, as i npuns, (15) laughter at mere coincidences. The list is rather comprehensive but there have been longer ones. Another important category might be (16) laughter as a more socially desirable response to be substituted for crying, as for instance when the child has fallen down. Presumably this last is an example of what Ludovici (1932) called 'the expression of superior adaptation', one of the 'superiority theories' which are said to derive from Hobbe s(1651). How many functions of laughter are there? Are they as numerous as are the occasions for laughter, or can they be reduced to one, for example, superiority? As in most cases where there is this kind of apparent polarization between multiplicity and unity (for example, how many drives are there?), it may help to think in terms of a hierarchy. The level chosen will depend on what the taxonomy is to be used for, but the various levels must be compatible with each other. In the writer's view, the most general remark to be made about adult laughter is that its functions are social, the evidence being that people do not laugh when they are on their own. The exceptions prove the rule in that they occur when one has forgotten that one is alone. At another level of analysis I have speculated that laughter has a most important function in determining and maintaining group cohesion and in distinguishing between the mores of one's own group and that of the outgroup - laughing with and laughing at. It can be argued that these functions have played an important part in cultural evolution. The links with humour are not obvious. While attending this Conference I came to the conclusion that laughter has a lot to do with social development whereas many kinds of humour have more to do with cognitive development. This latter point has been made by many theorists and experimenters, and seems particularly applicable to those kinds of humour which involve 'playing with cognitive categories', the kind of thing epitomised in the pun. It would be expected that this kind of humour cannot be appreciated until a child can see that a thing or word or occurrence can be categorised in more ways than one simultaneously, and the experiments which are based on Piagetian theorizing do seem to suppor tthis, (is it too much to expect that 'condensation' in dream work does not occur unti lthen?). Similar unconventional uses of categories are found in some forms of thought disorder, as for instance 'overinclusion', and many kinds of humour are thought of as being nearly psychotic. In fact, if one did not know that the setting (for example, of a cartoon or the comic performance) was a humorous one, then one would be faced with the 'Buffery problem', funny peculiar or funny ha-ha! (see Buffery, this volume). The response of laughter then means 'I know you don't really mix up categories in this way'. The Conference reported here received a good deal of attention from the British press and broadcasting. The usual reaction was of amazement and amused disbelief that scientists would be coming from all over the world to Cardiff to have a Conference on Humour and Laughter, and that was also the reaction, though perhaps a bit mollified, of many psychologists. But is it not generally the case that all psychologists have some niche of behaviour or experience which they are unwilling to analyze? The musician does not really want to know why he likes music or the religious person why he is religious. Or the humorous person why he is humorous. Oh dear.' The difficulties involved in analyzing humour and laughter introspectively suggest that there is something early and basic about them, like trying through introspection to work out how language is acquired. It looks as though both humour and laughter are concerned with boundary phenomena, with making discriminations between what is done and what is not done, between them and us, between sanity and insanity. To be aphoristic about it, and like most aphorisms this one is ninety per cent untrue: laughter is a defence against neurosis, humour is a defence against psychosis. The Conference ranged the whole gamut from devout seriousness to obscene hilarity. It was most enjoyable, and participants would want me to express our thanks to the University of Wales Institute of Science and Technology for its hospitality, and to the Welsh Branch of the British Psychological Society and especially Tony Chapman and Hugh Foot for having the idea and organising it. B.M. Foss Professor of Psychology Bedford College University of London Foreword xv REFERENCES Chapman, A.3. & Foot, H.C. (Eds.), Humour and Laughter: Theory, Research and Applications. Wiley, London (1976). Flugel, O.C., Humor and laughter. In: G. Lindzey (Ed.), Handbook of Social Psychology. Volume II. Addison-Uesley, Cambridge, Massachusetts (1954). Hobbes, T., Humane Nature. Anchor, London (1651). Hobbes, T., Leviathan. Penguin, Harmondsuorth (1968). (Originally published 1651) Ludovici, A.M., The Secret of Laughter. Gordon Press, London (1932). Valentine, C.U., The Psychology of Early Childhood. Methuen, London (1942). If Hamlet Had Had A Sense of Humour Harvey Mindess Antioch College/West Ladies and gentlemen of the jury: The case I intend to argue in this courtroom is simplicity itself. If there are any wits amongst you, they may conclude, when I have done, that that is because it is over-simplified, inspired by simple-mindedness, and conceived by a simpleton. Before the rest of you pronounce your verdict, however, I ask you to simply listen to the very simple points it undertakes to make. Our lives, I propose, extend between the poles of tragedy and comedy, but we possess more freedom than we realize to experience our circumstances and ourselves in tragic or comic guise. Some events, it is true, are so unrelievedly dreadful that one would have to be out of one's mind to find them amusing. Other events, it is equally true, are so undeniably funny that one would have to be pathological to find them grim. Host of the happenings in which we engage, however, reside at neither pole. Our family ties, our friendships and loves, our marriage arrangements and occupational activities, our personal strivings no less than the public events of the countries to which we belong, are riddled through and through with both tragic and comic elements. Our experience of them, therefore, depends at least in part on how we choose to perceive them. I use the word 'choose1, I confess, with malice aforethought, for I wish to contend that we have it within our power to focus on one or the other aspect of our lives and thereby to turn them in one or the other direction. 3ust as we are capable of replacing, or at least augmenting, fear with anger, despair with resolve, impulsiveness with thoughtfulness, we are capable of adding humour to our repertoire of self-perceptions - indeed, of giving it a central place in our conceptions of ourselves - and in this act, I say, we may exert a greater effect on the course and outcome of our struggles than anyone has yet envisualized. Not only may a humorous view of ourselves help lighten a mood of gloom; not only may it promote an appreciation of the tininess of our individual complaints within the broader scheme of things; it may, I suggest, transform the very texture of our lives, rescuing them both from horror and banality by its refusal to buy into either a tragic or- a flatly objective outlook. Members of the jury, if you judge this a debatable notion, let me hasten to agree with you. Although I intend to develop it, I am not at all certain that I can muster enough evidence to convince you of its validity. I would readily admit, in fact, that everything I have to say may be irrelevant and immaterial. And yet I feel compelled to pursue it. Uhy? I will tell you. It is because I sense - dumbly, dimly - that the thesis that self-directed humour can radically alter our lives may be true, and it is because I believe that the promulgation of this thesis could be so significant that even the weakest effort expended on articulating it would have been well worthwhile. I do not intend, however, to argue the case on theoretical grounds. Nor do I have any research data to present to you. There are some anecdotal reports I could mention, but rather than do that today I thought I would simply illustrate the notion in a somewhat fanciful fashion. Since it is nothing more at this stage of its development than an intuitive fancy itself, I hope you will not find it insulting to the stature of this gathering if I invite you to join me on an imaginary journey into the world of drama and literature. If you come along, I will try to show how the spirit of humour can penetrate the edifice of tragedy and reduce it to something less substantial than it at first appeared. 3 4 H. Mindness As ue all know, many great plays and novels have been created in which the leading characters endure tragic fates. Dostoevsky's Raskolnikov, Shakespeare's Othello, Bronte's Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshau, Medea, Prometheus, and others in Greek mythology are only the first that come to mind. Not only are their destinies heartbreaking, however; their authors also convince us that their tragedies are inevitable. Having read their stories or seen them performed, ue are left uith the ominous feeling that certain individuals, often admirable and enviable in other respects, are doomed to live out a destructive sequence of events culminating in a dreadful or horrifying death. Perhaps the most eloquent of all these tragic heroines and heroes is Shakespeare's 'Hamlet'. He is certainly amongst the most uell-knoun and the most universally acclaimed in the persuasiveness of his plight. Almost everyone, I think it fair to say, is convinced that Hamlet cannot be other than he is and that the havoc he ureaks on himself and those about him is therefore unavoidable. As a student of humour, I doubt it. Despite his trenchant uit, uhat Hamlet lacks is a grasp of himself as a mortal fool. In this lack, he is kin to the vast majority of tragic characters in literature and life. Taking themselves and their plights uith utmost seriousness, they invest in their oun destruction and compound it uith added interest. In order to explore the possibilities the Prince of Denmark uould have had if he had perceived himself and his circumstances uith humour, let us take a moment to revieu the play from that unusual perspective. Imagine, if you uill, that you are young Prince Hamlet. (Well, not so young; you are thirty years of age and still unmarried, so already you should be ashamed o fyourself). Nevertheless, your father, a noble king, has expired under suspicious circumstances. (But perhaps ue should not say expired; it makes him sound like a library card. No, let's face it: he has kicked the bucket, passed auay, gone to meet his Maker, breathed his last, and als odied). Barely tuo months have passed since the sad event and already your mother has cast off her mourning goun, and probably her nightgoun as uell, and hopped into bed uith your uncle Claudius. They have also been legally married, so the suine has taken possession not only of your father's uife but of his realm as uell. You are, to put it mildly, perturbed. In more contemporary terms, you feel bummed out, ripped off, dumped on, fucked over, and generally unappreciated. In fact, you have a strong urge to shout, 'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark!' But you don't. You don't say it because you are moody, disconsolate, and lost in thought - and besides, it's not your line. Your line is, 'The time is out of joint. 0 cursed spite, that ever I uas born to set it right'. But you don't say that either. Not yet at least. You may be disconsolate, but you are not dumb enough to throu auay good material before you have made your entrance. So you go to meet a strange apparition that claims it's your father's ghost. And uhat does it do? It tells you he uas murdered by his brother Claudius, uho performed the foul deed by pouring poison in his ears, and directs you to seek revenge. Uel'., here I uould say is your first opportunity to exercise your sense of humour. True, the murder of one's father is hardly a laughing matter, but the manner of this crime is hardly the stuff of tragedy. Poison in the ears, indeed.' The villain must have gotten his degree in otolaryngology. But never mind. Let us say that this chink in the armour of destiny, this unbuttoned fly on the trousers of tragedy, escapes your attention. Uhat then? You return to the royal palace, uhere you find your mother concerned about your sulking (as uell she should be), your uncle solicitous of your uelfare (or so he shreudl yclaims), and other friends and acquaintances, not excluding your sueetheart Ophelia, anxious to rouse you out of your grief. Do you allou them to do so? Not on your life. Having discoursed uith a ghost, you are nou consumed uith suspicions about your uncle's treachery, your mother's lust, and your friends' friendliness, so you deliver a feu verbal sallies to shou them all uhat you're made of. 'Frailty, thy name is uoman!* Get thee to a nunneryi' '0 uhat a piece of uork is man1! And at one particularly desperate moment, uishing that you could at least have had a barmitsvah, you mourn, 'Oh, that this too too solid flesh uould melt, thau, and resolve itself into a Jeu1. But nothing helps. You are pinioned on the cross of hesitation, goaded to avenge your father's death and yet restrained by some mysterious mixture of doubt and despair, uncertainty and ennui. If Hamlet Had Had A Sense of Humour 5 Now once again, I suggest, your sense of humour could come to your aid. It could show you that not only mother and uncle but also you are a little offbase (that's American for, 'off your wicket'). I mean, what's with this walking around acting crazy, poking your sword into other people's arrasses, and muttering, 'The play's the thing?' The time may be out of joint, old pal, but u/hat makes you think that you're in any shape to set it right? If you'll forgive my saying so, you would be well advised to call in Columbo, let Ophelia relieve your misery, learn to bake Danish pastry, or at least consult a shrink. Alright, I know what you're going to say. What kind of a shrink? A Freudian, a Jungian, a behaviour modifier, or an existential humanist? They're all terrific, goodness knows, but which is the best for your case? Well, I can tell you this. A Freudian would help, because you can bet your mother's couch that he would tell you you have a terrible Oedipus complex. Like all normal boys, you wished that you yourself could poison daddy's ears and climb into bed with mom, so you're only mad at your uncle because he got there first. I don't say that would cure you, but think what it would do for your sense of humour. Just compare that foxy Ophelia with your old saggy mom and tell me, wouldn't you crack a smile? Or how about taking a different tack? Instead of telling the shrink what's really bugging you, you could start with a cover story to test him out. You could say, 'I have this strange compulsion to go BEEP BEEP all the time. So wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I'm obsessed with the question, TO BEEP OR NOT TO BEEP.1 In other words, Prince Hamlet, instead of taking yourself and your plight so seriously - though I admit that it is in many respects a terribly serious matter - you could try to see the ludicrousness that is, or could be, a part of it. Although, or because, the attempt would lead you to step off your moral podium and mingle in the playground of common silliness, I believe it would help you immeasurably. You would, it is true, lose some of your gloomy grandeur, but consider how many people you wouldn't have to kill. Yes, your father is dead, perhaps murdered, and your mother is behaving badly, but as my grandmother would have said, you still have your health and a lovely girlfriend, so why not try to enjoy? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I suggest that we are all Hamlets to the extent that we are undone by the injustices in our lives and the lives of those about us. And it is surely part of our nobility, as it is Hamlet's, to attempt to right the scales. But it is short-sighted to believe that we can accomplish this goal in any enduring sense, for the time is always out of joint. Treachery and greed, stupidity and lust are always on the loose, and every avenging angel partakes of those qualities too. Hamlet's predicament is real, but he compounds it by his inability to perceive it in broad enough perspective. While as seekers of justice we may applaud him, as psychologists of humour we must admonish him. You take yourself too seriously, young Prince. Like most of us most of the time; you fail to register and cultivate the humorous dimension of your plight. As you told Rosencrantz and Guildenstern before you got all befuddled, 'There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so'. Would that we all, in our own times of trial, could remember those words. Ladies and gentlemen (place briefcase on lectern), in the immortal words of that great Shakespearian scholar, Groucho Marx, 'I rest my case1.