A SENSE OF THE RIDICULOUS: Are any of you watching ‘The Durrells’ on Sunday night TV? It always makes me feel uplifted. It’s quaint, and funny, and for the hour that it’s on, it’s gentle humour, lovely views of Corfu, and the silly, but endearing antics of the Durrell family are pure joy. Like many manifestations of poetic licence, it teeters on the edge of plausibility, but that is it’s charm. Where has our sense of the ridiculous gone? [Probably drowned in a vat of political correctness.] No one is daft anymore. Nowadays humour seems to boil down to the wittering’s of the super-intelligent, or something crass. We need a little stupidity. I remember laughing at Morecombe and Wise, when they had Shirley Bassey descending the stairs in an evening gown, wearing an old boot, and the bit where they called Andre Previn Mr Preview, and Eric was trying to teach him to play the piano. It was as mad as a box of frogs, but it was just the sort of nonsense we needed to lift us out of the doldrums. I used to enjoy a Brian Rix farce too [did you?]. It would always begin with some distraught woman dashing across the stage shouting “Vicar”. The Vicar of course would be in the wardrobe with the cleaning lady without the slightest idea how he got there. It was totally crazy, but at least a bit of ‘crazy’ makes us smile.