I am a terrible person, what I find funny is pretty horrible. This is not about me finding something horrendously macabre hilarious, I am not that callous, but the subject of my mirth is a touch unfeeling.
A good example of this was a few weeks ago when The Felicirpator was moving cushions around her Grandma’s front room. She had placed one on the floor and then started to wander around looking at the ceiling. It was obvious what was going to happen.
As she tumbled over the mislaid furnishings I was unable to resist. For some strange reason children falling over is my weakness, and for some strange reason I find it unbearably funny.