Yesternight, during the last hours of the fifteenth day of the month of May belonging to the year 2006 of our Lord the Supreme Father, at precisely 11:43 pm (BST), somewhere on this planet earth, the oldest joke of the world ceased to exist. Apparently, during the fated 42nd minute of the deceasing day there was not a single soul to be found remembering it nor attempting to tell it, nor did the echo of the last inspired laughter resound anymore: a minute in oblivion is enough for a joke to cease to exist. Its relatives and those almost infinite avatarial copies forged throughout its remarkable life express their grief and condolences.
In the meantime, the term mother-in-law, overwhelmed and saturated by a history crammed by abuses and links to negativities and bad press, and also tired of always being surrounded by insults and nasty remarks, unsuccessfully tried to take its own life by hanging itself from a discrete page of a frayed copy of the Encyclopaedia Mundialis. Curiously enough, after the failed attempt had been reported to the librarian authorities thanks to the word samaritan, who happened to be taking a stroll along the precise shelf, the missing term, haunted by depression and suicidal tendencies, is being looked up like never before in all the dictionaries worldwide, both offline (via printed copies) and online; yet this is what the eager searchers are being able to read once it is found: mohr-n-lw.
Today, the formerly depressed word is resting at the Rue Bergamasque, number 89, in the neutral Genève. A successful recovery is anxiously expected by both writers and trashy comedians.
It might be worth commenting that terms such as god, love, promise, truth and sing are suffering extreme symptoms of severe schizophrenia.
The succession for the much desired throne of the oldest joke in the world, is under way.