On war not being funny in the slightest
There are no laughs to be had from the brutal war in Afghanistan in which our plucky lads are busy sticking cold British steel up the drug-addled, heathen, Westlife-loving Taleban. None at all.
In fact, one of my very best friends and work colleagues has recently taken a couple of years' leave-of-absence, specifically so he can go to Afghanistan and help in the effort to rebuild said devastated nation by sticking cold British steel up the drug-addled, heathen Westlife-loving Taleban who would probably shit in your airing cupboard given half the chance.
Shit in your airing cupboard and wipe their arse on your lucky boxer shorts.
They are probably obscenely cruel to small fluffy animals and feed them raw drugs just to watch them freak out, or something. I know this to be true because some bloke on The Sun newspaper's discussion forums said so, and he was IN THE SAS and saw it with his own eyes before killing them TO DEATH with his helicopter the army let him bring home at weekends, honest.
The Taleban are bad, bad people, and this is why we are at war.
And it is such a serious, serious war, they had to send Grant Mitchell out of EastEnders down to Helmand province to give the Westlife-loving bastards the damn good kicking they deserve whilst telling them to "Shut it, slag. This is famleee."
So: War. Not funny.
This being the case, I would go even as far as saying that there are absolutely no laughs to be had from a recent email alert I received from my learned colleagues at Channel Four news with the subject line "Soldier killed by poor equipment".
Alas, by the time the mail's header had been truncated by my low-quality email client, it read something like this:
No laughs to be had. At all.