From Grunt to Groan: A (Very) Serious Look at the History of Making People Snort
Hello, and welcome to a deep-dive—or perhaps, a shallow splash—into the fascinating, often baffling, and occasionally painful history of humour. It’s a journey from the very first belly laugh to the most recent TikTok trend, a story as old as time, and slightly more baffling than the sheer existence of Crocs.
Stage 1: The Paleolithic Pun
We start way back, when the first human was trying to explain to their cave-mate why they’d left the mammoth steaks outside (again). Humour, back then, was rudimentary. Think slapstick, but with higher stakes, like being eaten by a sabre-toothed tiger for mistiming your punchline.
The earliest recorded joke? Probably something like: "Why did Ugg trip over the rock? Because he didn't sea it!" (This was considered high-brow, as the 'sea' was a new concept). The main comedic device was the simple, honest-to-goodness trip. If you saw someone fall over, it was hilarious. If they got back up, it was even funnier. If they were holding a valuable tool, it was an absolute riot.
Stage 2: The Classical Comedian (A.K.A. The Toga Troll)
Fast forward to Ancient Greece and Rome, where humour got intellectual. Suddenly, falling over wasn't enough; you had to satirize the gods, mock the pompous senators, or at least deliver your jokes in perfect iambic pentameter. This is when the observational humour was born, likely started by a philosopher who complained: "What is the deal with all these columns? Seriously, where are you supposed to put the TV?"
They even invented the stand-up comedy structure: you'd stand up on a marble block, say something rude about the emperor's haircut, and then spend the rest of the night nervously checking the exits. A simpler time, indeed.
Stage 3: The Renaissance Roast
The Middle Ages were, let’s be honest, a bit of a low point for comedy. Too much plague, not enough material. But the Renaissance brought back the fun, primarily in the form of wordplay and satire. People had time to read again, so they started appreciating the elegant double entendre and the subtly insulting limerick.
Jesters, the original professional comedians, were the only ones allowed to tell the King he had bad breath, usually in the form of a heavily rhymed ballad: "His Majesty's odour, I must bravely convey, smells like a goat that has not showered all day!" (They also had incredible health insurance).
Stage 4: The Modern Era – From Vaudeville to Viral
The last century has seen humour absolutely explode. We moved from the gentle, often slightly racist music hall jokes (which we thankfully left in the past) to the sharp, rapid-fire TV sitcom lines, and finally, to the surrealist, nonsensical Internet meme.
Now, the funniest thing in the world can be a picture of a cat looking mildly inconvenienced, or an oddly-edited video of someone dancing awkwardly to 80s synth-pop. The evolution is clear: we’ve gone from laughing because Ugg fell over, to laughing because Sir Cucumber Dog (a plush toy pug in a cucumber-print suit) gave a side-eye that perfectly encapsulates the futility of late-stage capitalism.
In Conclusion: The Humour Hierarchy
The core truth remains: humans will always find a way to laugh. Whether it's at a perfectly timed pun, an astute political critique, or simply because someone spelled a word wrong in a Facebook comment, humour is the glue that stops us all from turning into grunting cave-people again. And, if you ask me, that's no laughing matter...
...Unless Ugg is involved. If Ugg is involved, it's hilarious.
