“Humor, Parliament or the Government: What Makes You Laugh More?”

By FILIP ÇAKULI

Albania has been left without humor. Luckily, it has a government.

Once, Albania had the estrada. Not only in Tirana. It had one in every city. The estrada of Shkodër, of Durrës, of Korçë, of Vlorë, of Elbasan… Each city had its own people who sang, acted, performed sketches and, above all, knew how to make Albanians laugh. And laugh they did.

Naturally, it was not political humor, because there was censorship and self-censorship. But mockery of customs, bureaucracy and everyday phenomena existed. And it was allowed. On Friday or Saturday evenings, the television was ready. Albanian Television brought the humor of the estradas from across the country. There were songs, parodies, characters, jokes. Humor with the neighbor, with the clerk, with the mother-in-law, with the policeman, with the boss, with the bureaucracy and, when it dared, even with power. It was an Albania with one television in the house, but with plenty of humor.

Today we have dozens of televisions and far less humor. The estradas disappeared, the stages emptied, the artistic troupes dissolved, and Albanian humor became more or less an endangered species. Once, every city had its own estrada. Today, every city has at least one local television, several portals, dozens of studios and hundreds of people who talk seriously. Albanians have many reasons to laugh, but very few places where they can laugh.

Today, on television, the only remaining space for humor is Portokalli on Top Channel. A group of talented actors keeps alive a tradition that was once much broader. It is now led by Agron Llakaj, an actor with long experience in humor, who is not only a performer but also a creator and writer of the material he performs. Today, Portokalli must take upon itself the heavy burden of making Albanians laugh. Why do I say heavy burden? Because they are the only ones left, and the burden falls on them. Because they are part of Topi, and the burden of responsibility grows. Topi is number one, so Portokalli cannot be number two…

And this is exactly where the question arises: why not give humor what Albania produces more than any factory: politics? Because the raw material is never lacking. The government produces humorous material every day, with no need for authors. Ministers produce characters. Members of parliament produce dialogue. Speeches produce sketches. Press conferences produce monologues. Political statements produce punchlines. And, most beautifully of all, they are all free.

A humor writer can spend three days thinking of a joke. Politics gives it to you in three minutes. A screenwriter can exhaust himself creating a grotesque character. Then an official appears on television and ruins all the work: the real character is more grotesque than the imaginary one. Once, the comedian had to invent the situation. Today, it is enough to turn on the television. Indeed, with the pace of Albanian politics, the comedian risks failing to keep up with reality. He writes a sketch on Monday. On Wednesday the statement changes. On Friday the comedian drops the sketch because reality has surpassed it. Because reality has produced another one. This is perhaps the only Albanian industry that does not need a strategic investor.

But political humor does not mean simply mocking the politician. It means doing what good humor has always done: showing the absurdity of life through laughter. A minister can become a character. A government meeting can become a sketch. A press conference can become a parody. A parliamentary debate can turn into theater. A political statement can take the place that the estradas’ punchline once had. And the public can laugh at power without needing to hate it. Because humor is not only a political weapon. It is also a way of not taking too seriously those who take themselves too seriously.