These are difficult times in the humour business. The Government's emergency rescue package, unveiled recently by Joe Jacob, offered some respite for Irish service providers. The industry remains seriously depressed internationally, and not even a meeting of EU humour ministers with Joe in the chair could solve the problems currently facing columnists.
It's bad enough that several hitherto profitable areas - George W Bush and air travel, to mention just two - have been effectively closed down since September. But what's worse is a general decline in consumer confidence where humour is concerned. The demand for irony, a niche product at the best of times, has collapsed. Sarcasm, always cheap and easy to produce, is no longer a guaranteed seller at the no-frills end of the market.
The importance of humour as a way of dealing with trauma is widely acknowledged. In fact, laughter is "the best medicine," according to independent studies (the results of which have always been disputed by the drugs companies). But columnists are finding the prescription impossible to read at the moment, and the doctor is not answering his phone.
There was some hope for the humour industry this week, however, and it came from an unlikely source - Germany. Apart from some of its Eurovision entries, Germany is not a country known for humour.The concept of German humour is generally considered to be at least as bankrupt as Sabena airlines, and so could also probably qualify for bridging finance under the EU's competition laws.
But the Guardian reported Wednesday that in a recent poll, 60 per cent of Germans identified humour as the most important way of "combating fear". Admittedly, a sizeable 14 per cent said the question was "outside the realm of their thinking," which is a humorous German way of saying they had no opinion. But the large approval rating for humour underlined Germany's support for its satirical Kabaret tradition, whose theatres reopened recently after closing in September for the longest period since the 1933 Reichstag fire.
One comedian, the wittily-named Jurgen von der Lippe, explained: "We need it \ like a swimmer needs the edge of a swimming-pool." And to illustrate his point, a popular turn in Germany in recent days has been a parody of Rowan Atkinson's Mr Bean, called "Mr Bean Laden". Which suggests that German comedy has gone in at the deep end, and we must all just hope it can reach the edge of the pool again from there.
While we in Ireland can escape reality through sport, this option has not been available in Germany since the traumatic 5-1 World Cup qualifying defeat to England last month. Which helps explain the other humorous German story of the week, in which a football manager compared the country's young soccer stars to the professionals of Hamburg's red-light district.
"They drink, they smoke, they go out whoring," the manager complained, perhaps attempting to galvanise German soccer ahead of the tricky play-offs against Ukraine.
Instead, his comments have galvanised the German sex industry, where self-respecting workers were understandably hurt at being compared with the football team. One indignant professional said she put in 14-hour shifts at a Hamburg sex outlet and added: "I work far harder than any footballer". Another spokeswoman, described only as "Lady Gina," suggested the manager should send his team around for a training session: "They could learn a thing or two from us." Double entendres were unfashionable even before the current humour slump, so I'll resist the urge to suggest that Germany is going flat out to beat Ukraine. But the events of this week give new meaning to a popular if vulgar football expression. By proving that whatever about the soccer team, German humour CAN score in a brothel.
fmcnally@irish-times.ie
