According to a story on the wires a few weeks ago, a British scientist has identified Britain’s funniest joke.

It’s a Sherlock Holmes story that goes like this: Sherlock and Dr. Watson go camping, and pitch their tent under the stars. During the night, Holmes wakes Watson up, and says, “Watson, look up at the stars and tell me what you deduce.”

“Well,” says Watson, “I see millions of stars. If even a few of them have planets, it’s quite likely that some of them are like Earth and if some of them are like Earth, perhaps there are people like us out there.”

“Watson, you idiot,” says Holmes. “Someone’s stolen the tent.”

The scientist, a Dr. Richard Wiseman of Hertfordshire University, claims to have discovered a number of “best” jokes — the best Belgian joke, the best German joke and so on. I will not be repeating them. All I can say about his discoveries is that the European sense of humour doesn’t seem to be what it used to be.

There is one other, though, that should be mentioned. This is the top joke in France.

“You’re a high-priced lawyer. If I give you $500, will you answer two questions for me?

“Absolutely! What’s the second question?”

What is this? Can it be? The French have a better joke than the English? Not so very long ago, in the days of Empire, this would have been unthinkable. Cold steel from one end of Britain to the other would have been fingered.

But, like their sense of humour, the British sense of self is not what it used to be. Half of them seem actually to want to join the European Union, and the other half (actually, on second thought, it’s probably the same half) spend their time trying to disassemble the aristocracy and outlaw foxhunting. In fairness, it must be recalled that the British once had the best sense of humour in the world, and exported it, like their system of government, to every nook and cranny of the world.

It is a sly type of humour. Its punch line comes from a totally unexpected direction. Listening to a British joke is like being a boxer, suddenly put on the canvas by a terrible blow to the back of the knee.

Take the story, for example, of the First World War General who couldn’t understand how the snipers in a certain sector at the front were having such a large number of successes. So he went to see for himself, and was told this story.

“When the wind’s right, we can hear the Germans talking. Our snipers are lying in cover behind the support trench, and we have a man with a loud voice in the fire trench, between. When he hears talking, he shouts “Waiter!” at the top of his voice, and there’s always one of ‘em who looks over the top.”

Or the story (no less funny for being apocryphal) about British Foreign Minister Lord George Brown (a legendary figure in whose lifetime it is an honour and a privilege to have lived). At a certain diplomatic function, which he attended, as always, more than slightly the worse for booze, he approached a robed figure. “Beautiful lady in scarlet,” he said, “will you do me the honour of waltzing with me?” “Certainly not,” was the reply. “In the first place, you are drunk. In the second, this is not a waltz but the Venezuelan National Anthem. Third, I am not a beautiful lady in red, I am, in fact, the papal nuncio.”

One suspects that one of the reasons Dr. Wiseman made the awful choices he did was the dumbing-down effect of the need to be politically correct. The origin and essence of humour is amusement at others’ misfortune, I remember having read once. Most, though not all, good jokes are therefore told at someone else’s expense — whether the French, the Germans, the Scots, the Jews or whoever. Once, that hardly mattered. If A’s joke was on B one day, B told one on A the next. No one took offence ... that would have been very poor form.

Not even a MacDonald made the butt of a Campbell joke would dream of writing to the papers about it. These days, though, people seem to live to complain. If you work for a public institution like a university, there is simply no question of telling a joke that might in any way be at someone’s expense.

As a person recently freed from the constraints of a public institution, newly determined to throw political caution to the winds, I thought I would see if I couldn’t set this university professor straight. Here are a half-dozen of my own awards. The first is my pick of the Best Joke About a Jew at the Expense of a Nazi. <$>That ought to get the ball rolling.

In 1939, let’s say, in Warsaw, a Jew, walking down the street, bumps accidentally into a Gestapo officer in full dress uniform. They stop, looking at each other.

“Schwein,” roars the Nazi.

“Epstein,” says the Jew, bowing slightly.

Best Joke by an Indian at Our Expense

Mahatma Gandhi was once asked what he thought of Western civilisation.

“I think,” he said, “that it would be a very good idea.”

Best Joke by a French King at the Expense of a French Ass

Henri IV, once (quite a long time ago, actually) King of France, visited a small town, and was greeted by a group of burgesses, the French equivalent of members of the town’s Corporation, who had drawn themselves up at the gate. Just as the Mayor began his speech of welcome, a donkey began to bray.

The King turned to the noisy creature and said, with great gravity, “Gentlemen, one at a time, please.”

Best joke by a British Banker at the Expense of an Impudent Taxi Driver <$>

Getting out of a taxi one day, Lord Rothschild gave the driver what he felt was an adequate tip.

“Your Lordship’s son always gives me a great deal more than this,” said the driver, eyeing the money disdainfully.

“I daresay he does,” Lord Rothschild said, “but then, he has a rich father, and I do not.”

Best Joke by Queen Victoria at the Expense of a Major Biblical Figure

At lunch at the Palace, one day, the talk turned to meeting dead people in another world and what fun that might be. Someone suggested that King David might be presented to the Queen.

“I will not meet King David,” she huffed, “on account of his inexcusable conduct to Uriah.”

Best Joke by a future American President at the Expense of Young People <$>

During a student demonstration in the 1960s, Ronald Reagan’s limousine was hemmed in by chanting demonstrators, waving placards. They were yelling: “We are the future.”

Reagan scribbled furiously on a piece of paper, then held it up to the window so they could read the words: “I’ll sell my bonds.”