reacting to uk humour

When I moved to the UK, I thought I knew something about British pop culture because I liked British films and television. Then I went to work and discovered how many references I didn’t understand. By the time I’d lived here for eight years, looking through British memes felt very different. There were things I recognised, things I quoted and complaints I could immediately relate to.

I didn’t gather the funny clips beforehand because I didn’t want to pretend something was a first reaction when I’d already seen it. I started looking through memes and television compilations as I went. Some of it made me very happy to live here. Some of it reminded me why I find certain television absolutely unbearable.

Daytime television was an introduction

Catchphrase was one of the first British game shows I watched after moving. I didn’t have a job then, and I watched daytime television while getting rejected from the jobs I applied for. Repeats of Catchphrase, along with Pointless and The Chase, became part of that introduction to the country. I hadn’t watched The Chase in ages by the time I returned to these compilations.

Watching Catchphrase again, I noticed how much silly innuendo there was. To me, those harmless double meanings felt much more prominent than the humour I’d grown up seeing in North America. I enjoyed them. Learning about British culture through television had been interesting, even when the programmes seemed like an unlikely way to learn anything.

The range of daytime television still surprised me too. I remembered a talk-show guest saying she was married to a ghost, and found that extraordinary material for daytime viewing. I wasn’t exactly sure which programme it had been, but it was the sort of thing that made British talk shows feel more interesting to me than the ones I knew in Canada.

The ordinary complaints were familiar

A post about offering a tradesperson a cup of tea made perfect sense to me. Here, I agreed that if somebody was working in your home, you should offer them one. What I was more used to in Canada was offering water, or perhaps coffee. Tea hadn’t been the obvious thing that came to mind.

The Very British Problems posts also caught me recognising myself. One complained about other people in the supermarket, which was extremely relatable. Working from home gave me some flexibility, and I deliberately went at strange times to avoid the rush. Half past five on a Wednesday felt like pandemonium to me, made worse if the shop had moved the aisles around again.

A joke about the pleasure of a nice sit-down was also very much me. Then there was the text you don’t answer until after the proposed plan has already passed, with a claim that you’ve only just seen it. I didn’t particularly want to admit I’d done that, but I had. These weren’t remote observations about other people. I recognised some of my own habits.

Pyjamas mean I’m staying in

Another post joked that putting on pyjamas meant the plan to go out could no longer happen. I understood that completely. I was comfortable going to bed at half past nine, sometimes reading for another hour, and once the pyjamas were on I couldn’t face getting back into proper clothes. The evening’s decision had been made.

Leaving a social gathering was a different problem. One of my favourite little British habits was the knee slap followed by announcing that it was time to be off. I never really knew how to leave a party or get-together, and I liked having that clear signal. At a large enough party I might simply disappear, but I couldn’t do that when I was visiting somebody’s house.

I love the comedy, but not all the embarrassment

James Acaster turned up in the television clips, and I was very happy to see him. I’d been to one of his live shows a couple of years earlier, at a small club that I thought was in Gravesend. I remembered it being so good and thought he was one of my favourite comedians. Seeing him again was a very welcome part of the browsing.

The X Factor clips were another matter. That sort of audition television made me nervous because I suffered from secondhand embarrassment. Watching people sing in front of judges was uncomfortable for me, even when it was meant to be funny. One confrontational audition near the end was a complete nightmare to watch. Enjoying British humour didn’t mean I enjoyed every clip in a compilation.

I’d forgotten about some of these programmes and remembered other bits immediately. Looking through them felt like catching up with an old friend, with the occasional moment I would rather have looked away from. The daytime shows that had helped introduce me to British culture were still part of that, alongside the everyday jokes I could now understand all too well.

Watch the British memes and television clips that prompted these reactions.