My research team of Greyface-in-the-Box and I have worked tirelessly for
many long months to distill the secrets of removing all humour from
jokes. Today we decided to discuss in mundane detail the various aspects
of the process and give a few examples of our dreary work.
First we told the bored audience the Joke in it's basest state. Without
the trappings of fun and whimsical detail, but rather bland
generalization, we had hoped the crude skeleton of Joke would prove most
mundane and boring, but most unfortunately, giggles were emitted by the
gathered attendees. Nevertheless, we continued on.
Next, we took a joke and mundanitized its 'punchline' or as I like to
refer to it, 'the end of the joke.' Even though this superior end of the
joke flew in the face of unexpected with it's monotonous expectedness,
the unexpectedness of expectedness most have done the dirty work of
humour's unexpected nature, for this unhumoured joke also did not draw
weeps and woes from our audience in unexpected fashion.
Now we had to pull out our most deviously bland example within a chicken
crossing the road joke.
These jokes are so bad that in theory, we had thought the original joke
would suffice to suck all joy from the room, but unfortunately it seems
some people still hold a sad sort of endearment toward the horrid little
things. Worst of all, this joke even went so far as to infect
Greyface-in-the-Box and I with a horrible case of puns we are yet trying
to cure with a steady diet of split pea soup and a regimen of sighing at
black velvet paintings of wilted flowers.
If one dull glimmer of grey clouds lazily over the cheer of this horrid
ordeal, it is that fact that it's easier to be a failure than a success.
Where the seminar to actually enlighten, we might be proud of ourselves
or such nonsense.

Oh, to dream a world of grey, so disappointing and mundane,
Concertina

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Daedalan, in the year 432 AF.