On this day of fathers, this holy day of dads, we pay our respects at the altar of the padre, and ponder, oh father of mine, why are your jokes so bad?
The realm of the Dad Joke; daggy, cringey, and all too predictable, is perhaps one of the least exalted ouvres of comedy. But they hold a special place in our hearts. There's something familiar and comforting about these ever present and oh-too-consistent gags.
Once a dad makes a joke, it seems, there is no limit to how many times it can be revisited. For my tenth birthday dress-up party, a friend came toting a box of cornflakes and a fake knife: a "Cereal Killer" (a classic Dad joke in itself). We have remained friends, and dad has never called her anything else. In fact I'm not even sure he remembers her real name. Shockingly unfunny, but the persistence is nothing short of admirable.
So, where do dad jokes come from? Do dads become daggy because they're dads? Or are the already daggy inclined towards daddiness? Is there an uber-dad somewhere, coming up with these groaners, and distributing them in a secret handbook to expectant-fathers at prenatal classes?
Imagine, fathers-to-be studying the art of the pun, as their pregnant partners practise Lamaze. Perhaps dad jokes are simply absorbed through osmosis. Or a natural response to the mundanities of fatherly life. Or maybe they are passed down through generations, from father to father, fart joke by fart joke.
Someone must have been the first to drive past a cemetery and proclaim: "That's the dead centre of town. People are just dying to get in there!". It was probably funny the first time. I can imagine an old school Borscht Belt comedian, unaware his newest gag would destroy car trips forever, along with "Where are we?" "In the car!", and other road trip classics.
In fact, of all places, the car is the habitat in which dad jokes flourish best. The confined space and boredom provides the perfect petri dish for dads to create their finest work. Maybe these dad jokes are just a natural response: A kind of survival mechanism of the tired pop, faced with the incessant questions of his children. As much as dad jokes are charged with repetitiveness, no one has quite mastered this art like a four-year-old.
These pressure cookers of repetition give rise to old classic call and responses: "I'm going to take a bath." – "Don't take it too far."
"I'm going to draw the curtains" – "What colour?"
"Can you make me something to eat?" – "Abracadabra, you're a sandwich."
"I'm going to put the kettle on" – "It won't fit you!"
"I'm gonna jump in the shower" – "Don't jump too high."
"Where's mum?" – "She went mad and the police shot her." (Which is somewhat macabre and traumatic on inspection.)
Then there are the silly dad theatrics. My own dad likes to push the boundaries of his genre. Innovative in his form, he experiments with costume (underpants on head – hilarious), theatrics and pranks: Once he gave me an elaborately wrapped cow poo for my birthday, because he thought it'd be funny (it was). He once went through a phase of hiding behind corners, jumping out in a Kung Fu pose and yelling "KARATE CHOP!". Perhaps his favourite of all is the musical number, parody songs of Weird Al proportions: "Phantom of the Doctor" was a fave, as was "Jesus Christ Superstar", with the lyrics changed to "Zoe Lea Coombs Marr, she has a head like a Vegemite jar".
Nothing says dad like wordplay. My partner's father has a whole language of his own, a sort of combination of rhyming slang and baby speak that makes everything sound adorable. Peanut butter is peanie brickle, a magazine is a maggie, a jumper a jumpy, and an umbrella is a storm stick. My dad's favourite pun was repeated every day as, driving along a country road we'd pass the same herd of Friesian cows – "Do you know why they're called Friesian? Because they give Friesian cold milk!". EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
Of course, it's not just dads who do dad jokes. Mums, in my experience, are as well equipped as anyone to produce an eye roll from a teenager. I don't have even the desire for children, but I love a good pun. And dads themselves come in all shapes and sizes – Lesbian dads, Trans dads, mummish dads, daddish mums and gay daddies. But for all the diversity of the teller, the jokes remain much the same. When nothing else is certain, dad jokes can always be relied on, just like a good solid dad. As tumultuous and unpredictable this big bad world can be, at least we can trust that "I'm Hungry" will always be met with "Hi Hungry, I'm dad".
Zoe Coombs Marr is a Sydney comedian. Jessica Irvine is on leave.
@zoecoombsmarr
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