I was only six years old: the joke made me want to cry.

Since then, I haven’t thought much about Czech humour. But now I’m living in the Czech Republic, I decided it might be interesting to investigate what makes Czech people laugh, so I set about asking for some Czech comedy recommendations.

The responses I received were unexpectedly serious. No one could agree on which movies to choose, leading to arguments and finger-pointing. Finally, I picked three Czech films that several people had mentioned, and settled down to watch them.

First on the list was Na samotě u lesa (Seclusion Near a forest). This is about a Czech family who buy an old man’s country house, but when they arrive he refuses to move out. Nothing about it struck me as funny. Was I missing something? Where were the jokes? I rang the Czech friend who had recommended it. She said she liked the familiar countryside characters, but maybe I didn’t recognise the archetypes.

After this, I moved on to Pelíšky (Cosy Dens). This coming-of-age story is about two teenage neighbours: one has a father who supports the communist system and the other a father who opposes it. I liked Pelíšky from the first line: “I’m 16, I’m in love, and I want to kill myself.” It felt like a modern indie comedy, the jokes were accessible and the themes universal. The film would have been even funnier if I knew what life was like in communist Czechoslovakia: at times it felt like I was watching it as a historical artefact. Pelíšky did however, include some good examples of the famous Czech black humour. It’s the only comedy I’ve seen that begins with a failed suicide attempt, ends with a failed suicide attempt, and has another failed suicide attempt in between.

The final movie was Zítra vstanu a opařím se čajem (Tomorrow I’ll Wake Up and Scold Myself with Tea). This is about a group of former Nazis who travel back in time to give Hitler a hydrogen bomb. The film opens with archive footage of Hitler. Five minutes later, a character chokes to death on a rohlík (Czech bread roll). Do Czech comedies always have to begin with something horrible? Zítra vstanu a opařím se čajem is like “Back to the Future.” Only funnier. Most foreigners would certainly “get it.” However, it could have been made anywhere, so ironically the film that made me laugh the most helped me to understand Czech humour the least.

By this point I had lost faith in the investigation. So I did what all great detectives do: put the movies away and gave up. I’d stopped thinking about Czech comedy altogether, until a few weeks later, when a friend asked if I liked living in České Budějovice.

“Yes,” I replied. “But it’s strange. It’s not that small and yet I see the same people all the time.”

“You’re right. It’s like a big village. But there’s one advantage. Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, someone else will.”

Her very English joke reminded me of the investigation, so I decided to tell her about it. As I did so, the atmosphere changed and she became serious.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing, it’s just … you won’t learn anything about Czech humour from those movies. You chose the wrong ones.”

By this time I had become accustomed to seeing Czechs talk about comedy with stern frowns on their faces. And she was right, the movies had got me no closer to understanding Czech humour. The only thing the experiment had taught me was that — in the Czech Republic — comedy is a serious business.

*First published in Milk & Honey (České Budějovice, Czech Republic)