Easy Humour Tricks You Can Swipe Immediately.

So, how do you create humour on the spot?

Well, for starters, you use the environment around as a source of funny material.

Sometimes it is best to learn through examples, so let me give you a couple.

A few days ago I was out in one of the popular Sydney nightspots.

Standing on the dimly lit balcony, chatting with a friend.

A few feet away I spotted a guy who is a semi-celebrity of sorts in Sydney circles. This guy is in the social pages all the time. Gay. Fashionista. Wearing skinny jeans tucked into a pair of leather boots, a blazer draped over his shoulders.

In the course of 10 minutes I watched a dozen or so people – men and women – try to break into his group. Saying hi to him, being schmoozingly nice, kisses on the cheeks all round, making small talk.

Everyone smothering him with excessive attention and affection. In return, he is polite to everyone, but only enough to exchange a few words with them, and send them on their way.

I reach step towards him, tap him on the shoulder and say to him, pointing at the boots: “Hey XXX, you never told me you joined the Army. How the hell did you ever pass the tests?”

He chuckles to himself – blushes almost – and says he has to wear the stupid boots because it’s part of some kind of sponsorship deal. He turns away from his group, and boom, the conversation is rolling. There is instant vibe. A playful poke in the a ribs is all a took.

Fast forward a few hours. I’m chatting to a sexy hostess at the front door.

She asks me what I do for a living. Just as the words leave her mouth, one member of the band that’s setting up for the evening walks past, carrying a drumkit.

He is a typical muso – leathers, a tangle of hair all over his face and head, rough parched skin. I’m the complete opposite – white boy who looks like Kramer’s less coordinated brother.

“I’m a rockstar”, I declare in a mockingly smug tone – and just loud enough for the passing rockstar to hear me. He bursts out laughing as he departs.

“What? Couldn’t you tell it by the excess of hair on my face and the groupies who follow me everyhere?”, I ask with mock disgust this time.

“Do you know who I am??”

She laughs, and asks me what time I’m playing tonight. I tell her I don’t play clubs any more – they can’t afford me. She asks me for a ticket to my next gig. I tell her I’m sold out for 2008.

It’s a complete non-reality, where I’m creating a world for her and I to play in. For a moment she forgets that she is at work. It’s just her and I, in a totally new place.

“So. On a serious note. You never finished telling me how your night was.”

And we’re back into connecting mode…

Before you get too carried away with trying to be funny, I recommend you read LoGun’s post about PURPOSE and NATURAL GAME.

(If you don’t, there is a chance you may end up being the ‘ group clown’, or her ‘funny friend’, and not the witty, charming man you should be).

 

Steven

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