The Problem With Banter
Banter is not humour; banter is what people have when they lack a sense of humour. Banter is a catch-all word for idiocy that warns the rest of us that Here Be Lads. Banter is Soccer AM. It is Andy Gray. It is middle-aged men on Top Gear pretending that they are edgy outsiders by mocking society’s weakest, then going home to Chipping Norton where they live two doors down from the Prime Minister. It is an English stag do in Dublin or Amsterdam with matching T-shirts. It is cruelty unleavened by wit but which is excused because it is a bit like wit, if you look at it from a certain angle. It what is left when humour has died, and just the rotting, stinking carcass remains, bearing a resemblance to the living being but lacking all that made it good. Banter is the Dunning-Kruger effect writ large. If you like banter, you are an idiot.
I’m not a fan.
This is not a tirade against rudeness. I am all in favour of rudeness, of bawdiness, of insult and mockery and obscenity. They’re all brilliant things, when done well. But “banter” isn’t. If you insult someone, you expect them to be insulted; if you are rude, you expect people to be offended. “Banter” is apparently a free pass: I can insult you, but you’re not allowed to be insulted, because “it’s only banter”. I can be obscene, but you can’t be offended, because “it’s only banter”. No. If you’re a grown-up, you know that your offensiveness may offend, and you either accept that or you apologise and don’t do it again. Saying “it’s only banter” makes you not only an idiot, but an idiot who can’t take responsibility for his own jokes.
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