It has come to the notice of us high-up authorities that despite the state of national urgency, there is still a lot of uncontrolled and spontaneous laughter going on in isolated parts of the kingdom. There is clear and present danger that such unrestrained mirth could spread and be detrimental to national security, and therefore should be nipped in the bud forthwith. This is no laughing matter. Our founding fathers, in their wisdom, promulgated the Laughter and Satire Act 2017 which categorically states that in times of grave national crisis the state can for a limited and stipulated period temporarily suspend an individual's perfectly natural urge to giggle, snigger, chuckle, chortle, twitter, or all of the above.
Since such a crisis is now at hand and considering that wild guffawing could be infectious and spread by word-of-mouth thus lowering the morale of our civil and uncivil servants, the state is now invoking Article 27 of the Laughter and Satire Act and banning all unauthorised laughter until further notice. Guards! Take that chap who has fallen off his chair to the dungeons and tickle his armpits until he laughs his head off.
Where were we? Oh yes, compared to Burma, we are a civilised and democratic society and therefore realise that there is a need to make exemptions. For example, those of unsound mind who need to laugh at regular intervals for medical reasons can do so in designated sound-proof Laughing Clinics. But they must bring their shrink's prescription in triplicate duly notarised by the Anchaladish stating the psychosomatic and physiological reasons why the said patient needs to chuckle gustily, and more importantly, whether there is actually still something to laugh about. These strict regulations are required to thwart abuse, and to prevent the entire country from pretending that it has gone insane.
Non-Nepali residents and diplomats are also exempt from the laughter ban since their conduct in the host country is governed by the Vienna Convention and its Annexe 13 (d) which states: 'In cases where the recipient state has suspended its sense of humour, consular missions and their resident staff may on occasion enjoy diplomatic impunity and be allowed to vent off a little steam as long as they don't indulge in boisterous jocularity in public.'
In case you hadn't heard, Nepal Telecom has been given the go-ahead to resume its hitherto immobile phone service (oops, did I just say something funny?) after all subscribers were fingerprinted and had to sign written affidavits declaring that they will send only officially-sanctioned jokes to each other via SMS.
Despite such a draconian crackdown it is inexplicable that some miscreants insist on defying the regulations and staging laugh-ins at Ratna Park. In all seriousness, what is there to laugh about? Don't they know that under the state of urgency, he who laughs best laughs last?
