One of the annoying things about being the only American in a group of Brits, is their sense of humor. Before I came, I thought that I had liked a lot of British television shows. "Monty Python," "Fawlty Towers," "Black Adder," "French and Saunders," "Hitch Hiker's Guide," even "Doctor Who," or "Red Dwarf," were all rather humorous, and fairly intellectual. (Though my friends decided that the uselessness of somebody was directly related to how much they quoted "Monty Python" or "Fawlty Towers." Of course, the Brits in the group quote these like they were substantial philosophical proverbs.) I find Benny Hill a little too low brow, but that's beside the point.
The point is that the British, (I would be saying these British, but they claim that they all do this) have a great deal of fun "taking the piss out of people," which means they insult you, to make you embarrassed and feel bad. It gets to the levels where they will pick on everything about you, without you initiating anything.
It's not like yo mamma, or any jokes of the normal type. It's blatant insulting. Any differences, be it hair color, body shape, minor deformities, etc., they will hit you without apologies. Just end their diatribe with, "relax, I'm just taking the piss out of you."
It brings the concept of calling Piggy by his hated name in Lord of the Flies, when you see nineteen year old guys bitterly making fun of a group member with cerebral Palsy. When I ask them to stop on anybody's behalf, they laugh. I tell them I don't think it's funny, they tell me that's because America is too PC.
Perhaps I'm too sensitive, this could be a genuine point; but their skin, I feel, is a bit too thick, and they can't see when they went to far.
"Well of course Ami punched you. You said his girlfriend was a horse. What'd you expect?"
OK.
So, one of the English, Robin, I believe I've mentioned him before, he gets these weekly postcards from his mother, and they always have jokes on the front. Generally, they are this British, one panel comic strip, which I don't find all that amusing, but whatever, they're the typical joke cards you send. A few of them have been American, a great deal of those being from The Far Side.
This one that he got was very famous, but in case you haven't heard of it,
I'm sending it to you. The panel shows a sign that reads, "Midvale School for the Gifted and Talented," and then the typical Gary Larson kid is pushing with all his might, on a door marked pull.

I'm sure you've seen it before.
So, Robin just got his mail, and I walk over to him, and he's staring at the card as if it had a picture of a naked woman on it. "Do you want me to explain it to you?" I said in a rather mocking voice. "See, it says 'Pull,' but he's pushing, even though he's gifted." He's still staring.
"Yes, I know that...but where's Midvale?"
"What do you mean, 'where's Midvale? It's irrelevant, Midvale doesn't exist. The point is that he's gifted, yet pushing, when he should be pulling." So, Ami heard this and let him have it, mocking him, asking him about Midvale, anything to attack Robin, to even the score some what.
So, we xeroxed the card, and stuck them on his book, on the walls, etc. Not hundreds of copies, around seven all together.
After a while, the joke got a bit old, and even Ami was letting it die a little. Robin came to me, and told me that he had asked the other British kids in the group, and as his defense, they all asked the same question.
So, it took me long enough, but I finally figured out British humor. The key is the mark. It doesn't matter who the butt of their joke is; anti-Irish, anti-American, anti-French, the entire point is to insult. Thus the "taking the piss," thus the thick skin, thus the query into the superfluous location of a joke.
Well, haha, what a lovely culture it must be to have your humor as a means of making yourself feel superior.
Maybe I have it wrong. Better yet, maybe we all had it wrong. Maybe those taxes King George put on us around two hundred and twenty- five years ago we're just their way of "taking the piss" out of the colonists.
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