Chris Maclean: it's the way he tells 'em

This morning I drove past a newsagent's shop which had a sign outside saying "Paper boys and girls wanted". When I got home I got a sheet of newspaper out and made a paper-chain of girls and one of boys. I have now posted them to the newsagents with a note simply signed BH.

I doubt they will understand it. Much of my humour is lost into the ether.

When customers come in and demand to know where the televisions are I simply reply that they were "attracting the wrong sort of people". Funny how they nod in agreement not realising it is them I am trying to not attract.

Some humour is lost because I cannot witness the reaction. When someone telephones here and realises they phoned the wrong number I simply answer "That's alright ~ the phone was ringing anyway" and hang up.

But there is good old, theatrical, day-to-day humour. Dry humour.

"What is the best way to Brogdale?" "How are you travelling?" "By car." "Yes, that's definitely the best way"

"Can I use the phone?" "How should I know? It is a difficult piece of equipment."

My favourite. "Do you know where the toilets are?" "Of course, I'm the landlord. I live here".

Humour is a fantastic mechanism to while away the hours. But I am not always sure they will understand that it has happened or if they can ever get the meaning. I am not laughing at them. I am laughing at myself.

Often I put cigarette bangers into people's cigarettes. It may not happen immediately. It may not happen in the pub. But at sometime it will go bang. And I am heartened that it will take place.

Yet sadly this is yet another, unexpected, casualty of the smoking ban.