what sort of jokes can I get away with? [3]

concept: Aliens who have absolutely no cultural or personal use for humor as a concept, but are very adept at figuring out socio-linguistic systems and how to manipulate them. Being funny makes humans more comfortable and easier to negotiate with, and it’s easy enough once you familiarize yourself with a particular culture and set your speech synthesizers to the correct setting.

and i mean sure eventually they’re great at it, but at some point in time a group of haggard aliens in a room somewhere compare notes on irony, hyperbole, and cultural references, with one exhausted individual clicking “No, Gxiiijhux VIII, puns are a no-go, puns are counterproductive, I don’t care if Susan emitted optimal pleasure decibels, everyone else in that room hated you.”

FX: Various clangs, plenty of time between them. continues under:
Crun: Now Min, Min, get this, get this rocket strapped up your back, and stand in the fireplace.
Minnie: All right, Henry.
Crun: And remember modern Min, keep your elbows well in till you’re clear of the chimney.
Minnie: Oh, dear. What about the heat from the rocket, Henry.
Crun: Well, hold the lid of this biscuit tin behind you, to protect your nether limbs. Now modern Min...
Minnie: Bowwww!
Crun: Owww! When you’re well clear of the Earth, get extra power!, by strapping on these leather duck wings.
Minnie: How do I operate them, Henry?
Crun: Don’t worry, modern Min. As soon as you’re up, this instruction manual on leather wings will be rocketed up to you. Now let us check your outer space nourishments pack.
Minnie: All right, Henry. Let me see, one all-leather bag...
Crun: Ahh, two and thruppence...
Minnie: Packet of Indian teeeea! Net weight quarter pouuund...
Crun: Eight pence, farthing...
Minnie: And a small brown loaf. Now, what are, what are the old...
Crun: Now your medical survival kit.
Minnie: Oh, the survival, yes.
Crun: One ...
Minnie: fishtooo!
Crun: One outer space lemon and horsehair poultice.
Minnie: Booow!
Crun: One stratosphere packet of ling senapods, and Alistair’s horse oils, one bottle of Indian brandyyyy!
Minnie: Nyoooooo!
Crun: Now Min, think yourself lucky to have modern science at your disposal!
Minnie: Oh, are you going to dispose of me then?
Crun: Not yet...
FX: Knocking
Minnie: Oh, we’ll all be murdered in our beds!
Crun: Wait a minute (calls) Coming, coming! Min, don’t go up till I come.
Minnie: (Idiot noises under Crun above)
FX: Door opens
Seagoon: Oh, hide me sir! The military police are after me!
Crun: I can’t think what they see in you, sir. Where are you?
Seagoon: On top of this ladder.
Crun: Oh, you’re in the airforce, then! Come in.
FX: Door shuts
Crun: Now sir, you are just in time to see Britain’s –
FX: Match striking
Crun: First woman into space!
GRAMS: Rocket taking off.
Minnie: (Over rocket) Ohhhhhh!
Seagoon: Good heavens! She’s gone up the chimney!
Crun: Yes! Now to pick up her signals on this wireless set.
FX: Radio-type noises, continues under
Crun: Calling Min, calling modern Min.
Minnie: (Sings ‘crazy modern rhythm music’)
Crun: Ah-hah! England now has a successful Min Bannister circling the Earth! Min, can you tell us your exact position?
Minnie: I’m stuck half-way up the chimney!
(The space age)