Nancy: Winston you are apallingly drunk!
Churchill: And you madame are apallingly ugly. But tomorrow I’ll be sober.
Another Coolidge story:
Coolidge and his wife were given separate tours of a chicken farm. Informed that there were dozens of chickens but only one rooster Mrs. Coolidge asked why and was told that two roosters would kill each other. She asked “Well does he really perform his… husbandly duties… with all these chickens?”
Yes ma’am. He performs them many many times per day.
Mrs. C with a sly grin: “Please tell that to the president.”
When the president was shown the coop this was relayed to him.
“Does he always service the same chicken?”
“No sir, a different chicken each time.”
“Please tell that to the First Lady.”
Congressman/Speaker of the House Nicholas Longworth was the husband of Alice Roosevelt (Teddy’s daughter) and knwon to be a notorious womanizer. He was also bald. One of his many political enemies addressed him at a social function and said something to the effect of “Your bald head reminds me of my wife’s ass… let me feel it to see if it feels like my wife’s ass…” and without waiting he did. “Yep, your head feels just like my wife’s ass.”
Longworth kept his cool. He just raised his hand to his head, rubbed it, and said “Hmm. Damned if it doesn’t.”
Dry humor gives no hint that what is being told is a joke. That’s left to the audience to figure out.
Mocumentires such as “This is Spinal Tap” and “Best of Show” are good examples.
My own humor is dry. It can take a while for people to get me sometimes just because they assume I’m serious about all the nonsense I’m babbling about.
Of course, it doesn’t help that I stop to consider around half of my babble might be a really great idea.
Oscar Wilde in customs: “I’ve nothing to declare. Except my genius.”
Alexander the Great, shortly after he destroyed the army of Darius in an upset at Issus, received an offer of a huge section of the western Persian empire in exchange for peace (it would have left Darius with the lion’s share but Alexander would have been rich beyond his wildest hopes). His advisor, Parmenion, a noble inherited from his father and not one of Alexander’s favorite people, said “I would accept that offer without hesitation.”
Alexander’s response: “Well if I were you Parmenion so would I, but I’m Alexander.” He returned a “thanks but no thanks” message to Darius and signed it Alexander, Emperor of Persia.
After the Persian War ended with the Battle of Salamis, the Athenian general Themistocles went around to other cities collecting money to pay for Athens’ expenses. At the island of Andros, the dialogue was:
THEMISTOCLES: We Athenians have two powerful gods on our side: Persuasion and Compulsion!
ANDRIAN: We Andrians have two useless gods, who refuse to leave us alone: Poverty and Inability!
Later, when Athenian and Spartan forces won the Battle of Plataea and finally drove the Persians out of Hellas, they captured the Persian general’s incredibly (by Greek standards) luxurious command tent. The Spartan general Pausanias remarked: “You see what fools these were, who live like this, yet came here to rob us of our poverty!”
To me, the thing about dry wit is that has a fuse- even if it’s a split second. There is a moment or two when the listener is not 100% sure that there is a joke, and then context or further thought reveals it. It also acts as a bit of a litmus test for one’s company.
When at school one day, my gang of mates was getting in trouble for something I no longer recall - probably nothing very heinous. The teacher who busted us was ordering us to some punishment which consisted of cleaning up a certain area of the playground - “garbage duty” or whatever you want to call it. The (male) teacher was trying to be all tough about it and there was this exchange:
Teacher (angrily): “… and if you don’t do it properly, I will have to refer it to a higher authority*!”
(* meaning the Principal)
My smartarse mate: “And they’ll do it, will they?”
Everybody cracked up and even the teacher could not keep a straight face.
Complaining that there is a “conspiracy of silence” among poetry supporters for his nomination as Britain’s Poet Laureate, Sir Lewis Morris made the mistake of asking Oscar Wilde what would be his best recourse.
