Question

Why do giraffes have such long necks?" I ask a woman in her 80s outside King's Cross station in London.

I've been asked if I can try to perfect my joke-telling skills. So here I am, accosting strangers with a list of gags. I agreed to the challenge because jokes have never really been my thing. Telling a funny story? Sure. But this purest form of comedy, which so unashamedly screams "Laugh at me!" has always been a struggle.

So getting tips from the comedian Lucy Porter was a welcome offer.

We headed to the busy station so she could observe me telling jokes "cold," without any prior guidance. To put it mildly, it wasn't great. To put it accurately, it was excruciating and only one person laughed.

After the baptism by fire, Lucy and I sat down for a quick lesson, so she could indicate where my flaws are. Unsurprisingly, it's my manner. "First of all, you were unbelievably rigid, physically," she said, suggesting I should appear "confident and happy" while doing my comedy business. Second, I needed more variation in my voice and more belief in the funniness of the joke I'm telling: "If they trust that you're going to make them laugh, they will laugh," Lucy assured me.

Less encouragingly, she says that telling punch line jokes is "probably the toughest kind of comedy to do. I wouldn't do what you're doing." It turns out people don't just laugh because they pity you – it actually has to be funny.

After our pep talk, I'm back by the station. "If I believe I'm funny, they will think I'm funny," I tell myself as I approach a man in purple denim who, based on that outfit, simply has to be up for a laugh.

I tell a joke involving a man in a grocery store. I do funny voices for each of the characters; my posture is relaxed; I am relaxed; the joke is funny. The man grimaces for a couple of seconds, says "very funny," and walks off.

My next attempts have mixed reactions. Some people really laugh, and some people really do not. I will admit it was a good feeling when people laughed: I was relieved, of course, but it is also satisfying to know a stranger thinks you are funny.

Lucy taught me some useful things, mainly that delivery is almost all that matters. I also learned that joke telling is a lot harder than it seems. It's a real performance, which makes you very vulnerable, whether you are a professional comedian, or just with your friends telling jokes in the pub. Every joke-teller put themselves through a trial to make people smile.

I can safely say I won't be going up to people in the street to tell jokes again, but Lucy has taught me that if you think you're funny, the chances of other people agreeing are a lot higher.

Oh, and the giraffe punch line? "Because they have really smelly feet." It's how you tell 'em.



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Multiple Choice Question
Read the excerpt from “How to Tell Jokes Like a Pro.”
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We headed to the busy station so she could observe me telling jokes "cold," without any prior guidance. To put it mildly, it wasn't great. To put it accurately, it was excruciating and only one person laughed.

After the baptism by fire, Lucy and I sat down for a quick lesson, so she could indicate where my flaws are.
_________________________________________________

Which choice best explains why the author used the figurative language "baptism by fire"?

A.
to tell why she did not have much guidance from Lucy

B.
to explain why meeting new people is difficult for her

C.
to describe her feelings when people laugh at her jokes

D.
to show how difficult it was to tell jokes to strangers at the station

Answers

GPT-4o mini
D. to show how difficult it was to tell jokes to strangers at the station

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