The Sacred Art of Taking the Piss
Written by Hash Rifai
I inherited my love for the BBC’s Have I Got News for You from my father. I have memories of lying in bed as a child — my room above the living room — listening to his reactions rise through the floorboards. A hearty laugh would follow a perfectly timed quip from Paul Merton, and when Ian Hislop delivered one of his razor-sharp observations, I’d hear a firm “Exactly!” — the battle cry of every British man who believes that common sense is soon to be extinct.
When I was finally old enough to witness the spectacle firsthand, Have I Got News for You became a family ritual. We’d gather in front of the TV, sometimes popcorn in hand, and watch the week’s news get torn to shreds. Episodes featuring hapless MPs were particular favourites. They’d appear on the panel hoping for some good PR, only to discover that the show doubled as a genteel blood sport — Hislop, always the people’s champion, striking at their hypocrisy with that polite savagery that only a man of his ilk can deliver.
But this isn’t a love letter to Have I Got News For You, the subject here is satire: the noble art of delivering the truth with just enough sugar to make it palatable. It is an art that Have I Got News for You has mastered. A joke is unique in its ability to get a point across in a way that few other methods of communication can. Even when you disagree with what’s being said, if it makes you laugh, there’s a moment — in the seconds after the punchline — when you think, “Fair point.”
Satirists and comedians are, above all, observers. Armed with common sense (a rare quality in this year 2025), they point out the absurdities we all notice but lack the courage to articulate, fearing exile from the tribe. And so satire must be defended at all costs, for it makes obvious where we have veered off course as a society. But more importantly, it drags the seemingly untouchable down to earth and holds leaders to account in a way that no parliamentary committee ever could. Court jesters understood this centuries ago: they were the only citizens in the land with licence to mock the king or rulers without fear of losing their heads — which should tell you everything you need to know about the value of humour in a functioning society. It is the last remaining defence against tyranny. Of course, this only worked when the king possessed a sense of humour. If not, all bets were off. I have generally found that people without the capacity for self-deprecation turn out to be wankers.
I will conclude by stating a fact: no one does satire quite like the British. The Americans, bless them, do try, but their jokes often arrive like a brick through a window. Satire requires a raised eyebrow, not a flashing neon sign. And on this, at least, we still lead the world.