Doing a demented version of Morris dancing

Today I passed an unusual sight.  There was an English tourist stamping his feet as if doing a demented version of Morris dancing on a sea path.  As I grew closer I realised that there was a huge lizard trapped on the path between him and his young wife.  By jumping up and down he was herding the lizard towards his terrified wife who was cringing fearfully and shouting at him simultaneously.  I know it was cruel but it was also funny.  Eventually, the lizard, the piggy in the middle, grew tired of this game and raced up a nearby wall to safety.  I passed the young man bent double and weeping with laughter, while his irate partner beat him over the head with her handbag.  I have no idea why this whole event had me smiling all the way home but it did.

Perhaps our sense of humour is created at a young age.  One April the 1^st my mother shouted up to my sleeping father that the next-door neighbour had fallen down a hole in the garden.  My dad raced out the front door, to the rescue, wearing only a hastily thrown on shirt and nothing else.  We laughed happily at this for the rest of the day.  I rest my case; humour is cultivated and in my case has always been watered with a bit of cruelty.