I like Jewish jokes. I begin every conversation with the literary editor of The Spectator with one or two, do the same with the judge across the road, and tell my newest joke to the lifeguards at the local swimming pool. The key to a good one is gentle self-mockery. But I dislike reading jokes and listening to them from non-Jews, who invariably tell them badly.
But if you like Jewish jokes written down, dozens and dozens of them, and you think Michael Winner a witty fellow, then this is the book for you. Better skip the introduction, though, because in it Winner reveals what he thinks is really funny. ‘Some of the funniest stories I have heard,’ he writes, were in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. They were about ‘people having their legs shot off, defecating all over their cells and knee-capping each other’.
He admits this is not ‘great material for jokes’, but because those were stressful times the jokes were ‘unbelievably funny’. One day, also in Northern Ireland, Winner turned up for a lecture at an empty theatre: ‘It was like a bad day at Hiroshima.’
He tells a long story set in a hotel where he was lounging outside with a friend, exchanging insults with a ranting Jew. My eyes immediately glazed. But Winner ‘thought that was all pretty funny’. He was making a movie in Austria where an English stuntman accidently drove a German second world war car into a crowd and broke someone’s arm and leg. ‘“Oh well”, I said, “that’s one back for the six million”.’ He told this to a journalist, who published it. ‘I’ve never had so many letters of congratulation for anything I ever said.’
I found many of the jokes in this collection tedious or vulgar. At their sexiest, good Jewish jokes are merely suggestive. So, how about a few gems from this book? I knew them already and, as always, I am now re-telling them. The funniest is also on the flyleaf. Abe goes to confession and tells the priest that he picked up two college girls and took them to a motel, where he had sex with each of them three times. The priest asks him if he is sorry for his sin. Abe says, ‘What sin?’ The priest says, ‘What kind of Catholic are you?’ Abe tells him he’s Jewish. ‘Then why are you telling me all this?,’ asks the priest. ‘I’m 92 years old,’ says Abe, ‘and I’m telling everybody.’
Abe meets his friend Hymie, who tells him he doesn’t look well. Abe tells Hymie that he and his wife Becky met a fairy who offered them two wishes. Becky said, ‘I’d like to go on a world cruise.’ The wand moved and Becky found a £20,000 ticket in each hand. Then Abe wished: ‘I’d like a wife 30 years younger than I am.’ Another swish of the wand. Abe says, ‘Suddenly I’m 80 years old. No wonder I don’t look so good.’
Becky is up in a small plane, sitting next to the pilot. He collapses and dies. She calls the control tower and says, ‘Mayday, Mayday, the pilot is dead and I don’t know how to fly.’ A calming voice comes from the control tower. ‘I’ll talk you through how to land. First, give me your current height and position.’ Becky replies ‘I’m 5 foot 4 inches, and I’m in the front seat.’ ‘OK,’ says the control tower, ‘Repeat after me: “Our Father, who art in heaven...’’ ’
Hymie is walking through Soho. A voice comes from a doorway. ‘Hello, darling. Would you sleep with me for £100?’ Hymie pauses before replying, ‘I’m not really tired, but I could do with the money.’
Don’t email these jokes to anyone. Give them your own twist and tell them to a judge or a lifeguard.