Michael Clarke
There was a time when there was only one joke in Iceland. The Haddock Joke. “It was haddock my dear” was the hilarious punch line.
Until 40 years ago even the slightest hint of a smile showed weakness of character. Wedding pictures of stern-faced couples in starchy clothes looking grimly into the lens adorned the papers. Looked more like shotgun weddings to me. And the obituaries were a parade of characters for whom life must have been such penury that no camera lens had ever been able to capture even a vague glint of an eye, let alone the hint of a smile. The news was read with intonation fitting for a state funeral, and the adverts consisted of repeating the name of the product incessantly in morbid tones. Once a year on New Year’s Eve the year was summarised in a low-key piss-take, which invariably caused huge offence for its lack of respect.
Perhaps the rot started to set in with the coming of T.V. People discovered that other countries were able to laugh at themselves now and then without totally ruining their National Pride. Along came Spaugstofan, and no pillar of Icelandic Society was left standing. From priest to President, all became victims of the weekly satire. Poetry, for so long devoted mainly extolling the virtues of Vikings, waterfalls, mountains and Gods, became a national sport, and four-liners, were bringing the house down at every party, though strictly adhering to ancient Icelandic rules of verse. April Fool’s day, traditionally devoted to the art of tricking someone to walk over two doorways before lunch once a year, now became extended to daily radio shows “taking” people as they called it. Even the country dances had progressed from the dressing-up of bearded farmers up in women’s clothes to sophisticated stand-up comedians. In fact Stand-up, or uppistand, which in itself is a wonderful Icelandic play-on-words name, has become all the rage and there are gifted comedians who make this their living.
But Icelandic Humour finally came of age when Reykjavík elected an eccentric comedian as their Lord Major. What started as a joke ended up proving that having a sense of humour does not necessarily make you an idiot. Jón Gnarr went on to gain international acclaim and no politician, priest, or president, has done more to promote human rights and put his country firmly on the international map.
And yet still be able to make you laugh.
