Thus plaintively queried Golden Rock God Robert Plant during one of the many longueurs in a much loved and frequently streamed public performance of Led Zeppelin's signature tune A Whole Lotta Heartbreaker on a Stairway to Heaven. He'd obviously not at that point heard Rolf Harris's cover version of the song, due to its not yet having been conceived of, let alone unleashed on a horrified, and soon to be even more horrified, listening public. Had Plant's plaint come after the release of said cover, it would of course have been a lot more understandable. Then again, Golden Rock Gods aren't necessarily noted for the pithiness of there intra or indeed inter song ad libbing abilities, and nor should they be. It may be laughable, but it's enough that they shimmer and glow, the better to entangle their rapt listenership in the ongoing mystery and numinous splendour that adheres around their magical presence. It's a tough old life, no doubt.
Laughter, though. It's a rum thing indeed when you get right down to the brass tacks of it. One of the many myths to have sprung up around the involuntary reflex, possibly in evolutionary terms a necessary safeguarding mechanism developed over many long and tedious hours spent voluntarily viewing reruns of much loved comedy series on YouTube, is the notion that it's the best medicine. Which is a compelling notion. Though, to be fair, for me, the best medication, by a clear country mile, is Allopurinol, the gout prevention medication, the taking of which has meant I haven't suffered a single attack of that horrifically painful malady in 20 clear years. Robert Plant doesn't even come close!
Another myth that has grown up around laughter, as difficult to disprove as the first example and possibly even more compelling, is that it's almost, if not completely, impossible to laugh out loud when on one's own. That laughter is a social reflex, and that the presence of at least 2 people is required for the reflex to kick in. Clearly, no proof of this is possible, as by definition the thesis cannot be tested by any disinterested third party, the presence of that third party pretty much wrecking the premise of the experiment. And yet, despite this lack of any empirical evidence of either proof of disproof, it's a notion that's become widely accepted as fact. People go around knowingly asserting to colleagues or family members, or friends, without any basis in actual fact, that it's a well known fact that it's impossible to LOL when on one's own.
All we have, in fact, in this regard is anecdotal evidence. And luckily, I'm in a position to proffer such evidence, be it never so empirical. Just last night I sat down, alone, to a smorgasbord of potential viewing delights when I, as usual, fired up YouTube on the old tube. Almost, but not quite, hidden among the usual compost of out of copyright movies, motivational talks, the thicket of yappy output provided by self styled "content creators", the shrill political hectoring of self styled serious political commentators, the serious and well constructed theses deconstructing the works of one's favourite film directors, I chanced upon an old comedy sketch show.*
By old, I mean from 2007, which isn't that old, and which is really neither here nor there. It was a comedy sketch show that I had actually caught the first time round, and subsequently periodically idly wondered if it would ever get a DVD release. It may well have done, but I wouldn't know, not being the type to keep up with such things. Anyway, there it was. On YouTube. For free! And the point, as Golden Rock God Robert Plant would no doubt have pleasure in pointing out, was that within 2 minutes I was LingOL. Not just guffawing, or tittering, or smirking. Or sniggering. I was giving full vent to full bodied, raucous, full throated, embarrassingly open hearted body laughs. I even came within an ace of doubling up.
But of course there's no proof that I behaved thusly, no evidence that I didn't just simper appreciatively. You'll have to take my word for it. Or, and this is another if not the main point, you could watch it yourselves (see below) and see if you too don't have the same explosively mirthful, entirely spontaneous, reaction. I know where my money's at. My fave items were the dinner party sketch (which had me convulsing in neighbour-alerting explosions of mirth), the ongoing bullyboy estate agent sketch (which saw me shrieking with helpless abandon), the ongoing job interview sketch (by which time even taking breath was a challenge I wasn't sure I was up to), and the animals-celebrating-christmas routine (especially the carol singing pilot whales and the tinsel spider). LOL. With gusto.
And I was quite alone. Which doesn't, as we've seen, prove anything. Anyway, do yourselves a favour. Have a laugh. And if you fancy it, film your mirth-filled explosions and send them to me, together with signed and witnessed aphadavits verifying that you were indeed alone at the time.
*Mr Serafinowics is known primarily as a brilliant impressionist. Those familiar with this show, as well as the equally LOL-worthy Tomorrow's World style TV science show pastiche Look Around You, will be aware that that's just the half of it.
David, terrific and original. I laff out loud too when on my todd. Keep writing.