We knew it was buried deep down inside, but at last archaeologists unearth Germany's sense of humour.
It's well seeing I'm not on Skadi anymore.
Just kidding.
Scotland on Sunday, July 15, 2007.
German ministry of jokes sees funny side
MARC HORNE
THEY have ways of making you laugh! On these shores, German comedy has always been regarded as bit of a laughing stock.
But now an organisation has been launched with the twin goals of making our Teutonic cousins take a more lighthearted view of life and shattering the stereotype that Germany is a nation populated by mirthless automatons.
The German Institute of Humour may sound as credible as the Ministry of Silly Walks, but unlike the Monty Python creation the institute is no joke.
Last week, its founder, Eva Ullman, travelled to Aberdeen University to attend an international symposium on humour and laughter.
The Leipzig-based academic insists Germanic wit is alive and well but believes it is woefully misunderstood in the UK.
"It is true that on the whole German people are very structured and logical and they like things to make sense," she said.
"People can get puzzled and frustrated when things are not logical and rational. That is why it has traditionally been difficult for off-the-wall humour - which is very popular in Britain - to take hold in Germany.
"But the surreal Monty Python style of humour is finally becoming more popular."
Ullman is frustrated that many of the nuances of Teutonic humour do not travel well beyond the borders of Germany, Austria and Switzerland.
"Of course, German people enjoy humour and like to laugh. We have a great love of wordplay and subtle puns which, sadly, are almost impossible to translate."
The institute believes that differing attitudes to the world of work are at the root of the stereotypical portrayal of Deutschlanders as miserable and robotic.
This view was described in Germany's Spiegel magazine as "der gnadenlos effiziente, aber humorlose Ingenieur" ("the mercilessly efficient but humourless engineer").
"Traditionally, people in Germany have separated their behaviour during their work time and their free time," said Ullmann. "The view was that fun and laughter belonged to the time after work and was not encouraged during the day. We are slowly getting used to the idea that using humour at work is actually positive rather than counterproductive."
Towards this goal, the GIH hosts seminars and workshops at companies across Germany, challenging the traditional attitudes.
Employers are encouraged to give their staff short breaks where they can exchange jokes.
Workers are also prompted to try looking at unorthodox and seemingly "illogical" solutions to problems. "My mission in Germany is to convince companies that when people are happy, relaxed and laughing they will work better," said Ullman.
She believes that a distinctive sense of humour emerged in the old Stalinist East Germany where freedom of speech was restricted by the feared secret police, the Stasi.
"Humour often emerges where people are under the greatest pressure," she said. "People used humour as a means of coping and it released the tension of everyday life."
The institute believes that the international success of the comedy film Goodbye, Lenin, which took a wry look at life after the fall of the Berlin Wall, shows the increasing sophistication of German humour.
"Increasingly we Germans are willing to laugh at our-selves," said Ullmann.
British comic Stewart Lee, who has studied comedy in Germany, believes there are key cultural differences between the two nations. "The idea of stand-up is somewhat alien to the Germans," he said. "They have a cabaret tradition of sophisticated satire, cross-dressing and mildly amusing songs, but the idea of the conversational, casual, middle ground of English-speaking stand-up comedy is pretty much unknown."
Many Germans, it seems, are amused by the stereotype of the tight-fisted, kilt-wearing Scot. The term Schottenpreis - literally 'Scotsman's price' - is used in countless adverts to persuade German consumers that something is dirt cheap.
SNP MP Angus Robertson, who is half-German, was so incensed by the continued use of racial slights that he made an official complaint to the authorities in Berlin.
Other staples of German humour are Blondinen and Mantafahrer - crass, dumb blonde women and their oafish, car-obsessed partners.
A bout of chortle combat
The challenge was almost as tough as persuading Helmut Kohl to swap his beloved bratwurst for couscous. I had to track down a funny German in Scotland.
German consul general Ingo Radcke,
the German embassy in London and Glasgow's Goethe Institute all failed to rise to the challenge.
I was feeling lower than Claudia Schiffer's body mass index when a daughter of Deutschland saved the day.
Veronika Kallus, a young Bavarian in Auld Reekie, bravely agreed to represent her country in a bout of chortle combat.
Mildly miffed by suggestions that her compatriots are about as funny as a wet July afternoon, she retaliated with a Scottish joke: "A Scotsman and his wife walk past a hot-dog stall when he remarks, 'Hmmm, what a beautiful smell'. 'Yes', she replies, 'we should treat ourselves and walk past here again tomorrow'."
Ich lache mich zum tod, or "I'm laughing myself to death".