Milk It for All It’s Worth
Stand-up comedy has always been my guilty pleasure. It’s not just about the belly laughs or the clever punchlines—though those help. For me, it’s a marvel of well-crafted words and razor-sharp timing. A great comedy bit isn’t just funny—it’s smart, sarcastic, and insightful, often delivering perspectives that might completely oppose mine. And guess what? I adore that.
Listening to someone skillfully roast my opinions—or even the things I love—feels like a playful challenge, a test of my ability to laugh at myself. If the joke’s brilliant, I’m doubled over, wheezing. Comedy, after all, thrives on truths twisted just enough to sting and delight in equal measure.
Instagram reels know me too well. The algorithm feeds me clips of stand-up gold, tailor-made to my preferences. I thank Meta for the personalised chuckles. One reel, in particular, stands out: Jack Whitehall’s merciless roast of milks. Almond, soy, oat, coconut— he skewered it. Now, I happen to love milk and all its varieties. In fact, I’m delighted with the range of options available. Yet there I was killing myself with laughter—metaphorically. The absurdity of it! Humans, I thought, are truly ingenious, not only in inventing several ways to milk a nut but also in crafting jokes about it.
Stand-up isn’t for everyone, and I get that. There’s a comedy I skip past too. But the magic of it—the way it turns ordinary things like a fridge full of dairy into comedic gold—keeps me coming back. After all, what’s funnier than taking life’s simplest pleasures and milking them for all they’re worth?
