In August, 1964, Norman Cousins, a former editor of the Saturday Review was diagnosed with a serious degenerative and painful disease of the connective tissue. He was given a one in five hundred chance of recovery.

Cousins decided to check into a hotel and, with his doctor’s support, arranged his own treatment: large doses of Vitamin C and lots of laughter. With the help of a nurse, trained to use a projector, he watched Candid Camera, the Marx Brothers and classic comedies. Against all expectations he recovered.

Cousin’s theory that laughter is good medicine had a physiologic basis. If negative emotions produce negative chemical changes in the body, he argued, wouldn’t positive emotions produce positive chemical changes? Ten minutes of genuine belly laughs gave him an anaesthetic effect and he could sleep pain-free for a few hours.

He concedes he was probably the beneficiary of a mammoth venture in self-administered placebos. But when he published his experience in the New England Journal of Medicine, he received more than 3000 responses from doctors who acknowledged the power of the mind in the healing process and the therapeutic value of joyous laughter.

The Bible tells us that a merry heart works like a medicine. Sigmund Freud believed that mirth counteracted nervous tension, and that humour could be used as therapy. When we laugh, the entire respiratory system, and our inner organs get a shake-up. Children laugh spontaneously and they learn it’s fun. It brightens their mood. It helps build social bonds and regulate relationships.

I grew up in a family that loved to laugh. My father had a most infectious hearty laugh, as he told and retold jokes. They were often simple and silly. “Joe Stinks doesn’t like his name, and he is changing it by deed poll to Bill.” Bodily functions were always funny, especially the unexpected fart. If my father farted, he would say to Bingo (the dog) “don’t do that again”. I cracked up as an eight-year-old when I heard jokes like, “Why, did the tomato blush? Because she saw Mr Green pea over the fence.”

When I found myself in charge of the production of Australian children’s television programs in 1982, I decided to blow up the whole sanctimonious culture of censorship with what I knew kids really enjoyed and let them laugh at their own crazy, subversive, fantasy world with things and events happening in a community even they couldn’t imagine. A talented team came up with Round the Twist with its stories about peeing competitions, a whirling willie, a baby in the cabbage patch, ice-cream ejected from a nose, spaghetti pig-out and the big burp where pregnant Pete delivers a baby which he conceived through peeing on a tree sprite through his mouth. The only way I got that series on screen in Australia was because the network, which by law had to meet a children’s quota, had no interest in reading the scripts. They just put it to air and the kids found it by word of mouth.

It taught me something I did not expect. Kids all around the world, in every culture, laughed at our very Aussie stories until they cried. And the commercial value of subsequent series meant I could overrule the gatekeepers at Disney and the ABC who wanted the program for their ratings, but were offended by the audacity of the show. Round the Twist could not be made today.

Over time, with the feminist movement, more women began to tell jokes with a different voice. I told a joke when I spoke at a graduation ceremony at the University of WA in 1994 when political correctness was invading universities. “What’s the difference between a pub and a clitoris? Nine out of ten men can find the pub.” They all laughed.

In 2012, I published a book called In Praise of Ageing and gave many talks to assorted groups. I often began with a story about a former school group who met every 10 years for a dinner reunion. At 50, they choose The Province because the waiters are hot, and they could have a dance. Ten years later they chose the same place because the noise wasn’t too bad, and you could hear yourself speak. At 70, they go to The Province again because there is a lift, and easy access. Then at 80, they choose The Province because they had never been there before. The story never failed to get laughs even though it is mocking dementia and the stages of life we go through. It is the recognition that makes the story funny. Mother and Son Series 1 was cruel and funny, and a big hit.

Laughing and telling jokes have become contentious in modern society. Sexism, racism, mocking others — the disabled, the old, blondes, the Irish and all minorities — is now taboo. While skilled comedians like Ricky Gervais or Dave Chappelle make a fortune by defying woke culture and their audiences laugh loudly, as a general rule such ridicule must be called out and penalised. Jokes, pranks and comedy have become a dangerous minefield, so people are wary.

I understand why Tim Minchin sings, “Only a ginger can call another ginger, Ginger”. It depends on who cracks the joke and who is the target. But I wonder, is this extreme concern for the feelings of others depriving us all of therapy? Is there a correlation between the recorded growth in reporting depression and the suppression of fun and laughter in our lives?

Humour can certainly backfire. On the night of 30 April 2011, at the traditional dinner “roast” hosted by the White House Correspondents Association, President Barack Obama turned the focus to Donald Trump who had promoted the “birther” conspiracy that Obama was not a US citizen, but born in Kenya.

“Donald Trump is here tonight,” Obama said, “and I know he has taken some flak lately. But no one is happier, no one prouder, to put this birth certificate to rest than the Donald. And that’s because he can finally get back to focusing on the issues that matter like, did we fake the moon landing?”

The 2600 journalists and Washington power brokers howled in laughter. Trump, meanwhile, stared straight ahead, rocking back and forth in his chair. He didn’t crack a smile.

Chris Christie, who spoke to Trump after the dinner, said. “He was pissed off like I’d never seen him before. Just beside himself with fury.”  That may well have been the final nudge that determined Trump would run for president.

When campaigning, Trump, the highly practised reality star, presents well; he understands the structure of a joke, the timing and the punch line. He has made an art of dispensing ridicule with a single word, always a put-down. Elizabeth Warren was Pocahontas, President Biden was Sleepy Joe; there was Crooked Hilary, Nervous Nancy, Shadey Comey, Laffin’ Kamala, Mad Dog Mattis and Too-Late Powell. And it works. The MAGA crowd continues to grow while the world looks on in wonder as the orange man vents his anger and his supporters click – like, like, like. Yet, it is clear the one thing Trump cannot tolerate is ridicule.

It is a vexed issue. I say, let’s have more of it. Keep those funny memes coming. Laughing is essential to living. It’s nature’s way of keeping things in balance.