Satire just not funny anymore, it has finally been established. As a calamitous 2016 nears its end, with both America and Britain entering their new dystopian ages, it has been confirmed the majority of the human race have definitely lost the ability to differentiate between fact and fiction.
There were previously two types of audience for satire, those smug gits that got the joke, and the dumb saps that didn’t. However, as post-Brexit UK has decided to insulate itself from civilisation and return to a Victorian golden age of rigid class divide and hopeless poverty, rational people who would have scoffed at the idea of Trump and Farage hee-hawing triumphantly as they robbed the tax-paying workers of their health service, benefits and freedom have just stopped laughing.
As satire normally reflects the contemporary world with a humorous twist, it stops working as a joke when the real world becomes more twisted than anything a humorist could create. The smug git audience have been plunged into a bleak world of totalitarian fascist regimes, plunging economies and grandstand warmongering. They don’t want to laugh about it, they just want a cup of cocoa and a hug.
Likewise, the dumb saps who never got the joke in the first place now misinterpret any strange remark as an insult. In the UK, a friendly hello will now be replied with “you starting on me?” followed by a hate-spewing ruck. In America, the classic “have a nice day” will engender the responding sound of a shotgun click and the phrase: “Aint from round here are ya boy?”
Satirists have gone on the run, as truth is now a despised commodity and anyone hinting at common sense will be lynched, burnt or impaled, depending on the county. Many have taken to the hills, joining communes of political cartoonists, whose work is also now moot, reality being way freakier than the most deranged outpourings from a damaged brain.
Some are welcoming a return to the vaudevillian entertainment of the 1920s to replace the last drops of intelligence from popular culture. A diet of George Formby songs, a sprinkling of ‘ows yer father entendres and a heart warming fascist singalong will provide enough relaxation for most workers inbetween 14 hour shifts as the New Age of Delusion gathers apace.