One of the funniest comedians in South Africa is one John Vlismas. His brand of comedy can be abrasive, risqué and sometimes downright confrontational. Right up this lowly columnist's alley. Regulars are acutely aware of comedy show etiquette, such as avoiding sitting in the first three rows where one is likely to be incorporated into the material.One of my friends found this out the hard way during a show when the host remarked that at every comedy show there's always that one guy who is a bit too old to be attending a comedy show. And then he made the "ting ting ting" metal detector sound before pointing at him and going, "There you are! I found you, old guy!" and proceeded to describe his "high forehead" in detail.Of all the comedy show boo-boos one can commit, the cardinal rule is this: don't ever shout out anything you think is funny! It hardly ever ends well. I used to attend Vlismas's raucous, uncensored shows at the Melville Underground some years back and he was brutal towards hecklers and the wannabe comedians in the audience. His favourite comeback was along the lines of, "This is how things work around here. I tell the jokes. You laugh, you moron." And I'd laugh and nod in agreement.story_article_left1Here's the thing: the overwhelming majority of humans are not even remotely funny. People have a tendency to confuse having a sense of humour (as in appreciating humour) with being humorous themselves. There's a huge difference.Some 10 years ago a friend and I bunked work in La Lucia at around 2pm and headed for Wilson's Wharf on the Durban Harbour to engage in an activity we called "watching the ships go by" while "gentling our conditions" with ice-cold Castle draughts (a phrase stolen from Shakespeare's Henry V).The young man who was serving us was attentive, engaging and pleasant. But he tried too hard. Part of his overeagernitis involved him telling us a joke each time he came to refill our leaky Castle draught glasses, which was every 15 minutes or so. (Don't judge us; Durban's humid climate can be extremely thirst-inducing.)There was only one problem with "his" jokes. They belonged to US comedian Chris Rock. And we knew this because my thirsty buddy and I had listened to Rock's Roll with the New album about a gazillion times.Finally, my friend stopped him mid-comedy routine and said, "Listen, my friend. You are wading nutsack-deep in copyright infringement territory with this act. If you absolutely have to plagiarise Chris Rock, at least acknowledge the source. That's called 'referencing' in academia." I was so embarrassed I sunk deep into my couch. But my friend was correct. Especially seeing as our Chris Rock impersonator wasn't funny at all.And that's the thing with being funny. Being consistently funny is hard, hard work. There's a very good reason the likes of Trevor Noah and Kevin Hart get paid obscene amounts of money. It's not just the words that make jokes funny. Being hilarious is about telling funny stories rhythmically, with timing, knowing when to pause, when to raise one's voice, when to use gestures, when to put on an accent and even when to stand still or pace up and down. It's a serious art form.And even if you were to get all of the technical skills, you probably would not be as funny as your favourite comedian. This is because the funniest comedians also have the perfect faces for comedy. It's usually in the eyebrows. Some of the funniest comedians, from Richard Pryor to Chris Rock, Trevor Noah, John Vlismas and Jerry Seinfeld, have exaggerated, arched eyebrows that give them what I call the "crazy eye".The next time you watch Loyiso Gola, try and imagine if he'd be as funny if he weren't so tall and didn't have the crazy eye.This is my long-winded way of saying I'm tired of people trying to be funny in my presence. Most people ruin "the joke" by declaring upfront, "OK, let me tell you a joke." No joke that starts out with this declaration is ever funny.story_article_right2And then there are the everyday "funny" jokes people love throwing at strangers. I'm sick of saying to people, "OK, I'll see you next week" only to get, "Not unless I see you first," followed by a wide smile, a wink, the thumbs-up sign and the "xi xi" click. What does that even mean?Or, walking into someone's office at 12h03 after waiting for 45 minutes, going, "Good morning" and getting, "Well, good afternoon to you too!" What are you, a horologist at Swiss Quartz?Or relatives poking my tummy at family functions, "It's evident that Mrs N is a good cook, hey?" Well, with a little gym I can get rid of the pouch, but do you know how expensive rhinoplasty is?And then there are the Einsteins who, in the year of our Lord 2016, still feel the uncontrollable urge to scribble "Wash me please" on the film of dust on your rear window. Really? Didn't this stop being funny circa the sinking of the SS Mendi?Of course these responses only occur inside my head, but I bet I'm not the only one who has felt this way. In fact, every time I see an ambulance weaving through traffic at breakneck speed, I console myself with the thought that it's on its way to the hospital with someone who wrote "Wash me please" on someone else's back window.E-mail Ndumiso Ngcobo at ngcobon@sundaytimes.co.za or follow him on Twitter: @NdumisoNgcobo..