‘Laugh and the world laughs with you’ says our columnist Kathy Lette

Forget potions and lotions, tonics and tinctures. Medical research presented at a cardiology conference in Amsterdam revealed that laughter really is the best medicine.

Apparently, a good chortle unleashes the same health-boosting chemicals as a bout of vigorous exercise. Laughing brings about a drop in blood pressure and boosts the immune system.

Clearly, a daily dose of Dawn French or Sarah Millican should be prescribed by doctors.

It’s also a reminder to spend time with funnier friends. One of my gal pals was stranded in an elevator recently. Precariously suspended in a claustrophobic cube in pitch darkness, she texted a message to the outside world: ‘Send in Chardonnay and chocolate.’ I grinned at my pal’s cheeky charm, but also admired her ability to laugh in the face of adversity.

Laugh in the face of sadness

Humour can be a shock absorber for your brain, too. When my darling dad became suddenly seriously ill, my heartbroken mum, three shell-shocked sisters and I drew strength from the gallows humour we shared by his deathbed. Laughter became a pressure valve, releasing our pain.

When my good mate Billy Connolly was diagnosed with prostate cancer, Parkinson’s disease and hearing loss, he reacted the way any comedian would. He laughed. “Ironic, isn’t it, Kath, that life keeps the punchline till the end.” When I offered sympathy, he shrugged off my concern with admirable insouciance. “I’ve also got anorak-sia nervosa, an irrational fear of ugly raincoats.”

Another dear pal, Spike Milligan, was equally irreverent when penning his famous epitaph, “I told you I was ill”! I hope he’d be amused by my tombstone inscription, chosen to reflect my life as a novelist… Finally, a good plot!

And speaking of literature, why is it that depressing memoirs, known as ‘misery lit’, constantly win all the prestigious book prizes? It’s so much harder to make people laugh than cry.

I’m going to name my cat Pulitzer, just so I can say that I have one.

My literary pin-ups, Dorothy Parker, Sue Townsend, Nora Ephron and other members of the Cliterati, all mixed wit with grit. Sharp-witted, breezy broads, they shrugged off life’s trials and tribulations with a sly wink, a one-liner and lashings of lip gloss.

The reason that Jackie Collins sold 500 million books is due to her heroines’ ability to shoot from the lip – leaving male cads quivering from quip-lash. In real life, Jackie was just as sassy. Over lunch a few years ago, she told me about being ambushed, aged 15, by a flasher. Jackie’s sanguine response deflated more than his ego. “Cold today, isn’t it?” was her withering put-down.

But what she didn’t tell me that day was that she was suffering from terminal cancer. A true broad, she was on a book tour just two weeks before she died, dolled up in leopard print and dishing out bon mots.

Plagued as we are with wars, climate woes and cost-of-living crises, it’s more important than ever that we remember to find the funny. Our motto? Laugh and the world laughs with you; cry and you get salt in your cocktail.

Kathy Lette writes her amusing columns on all sorts of topics, from faking orgasms to camaraderie at divorce parties to going makeup-free and why it's easier to be a man. A new column is published in woman&home magazine every month. This one is a gem from the archives!