Pharaohs and naked women
European imagination of Ancient Egypt has long been colored by a misleading fantasy: countless slaves marching under whips to raise pyramids, a rigid social ladder, and a sovereign so aloof that the common subjects seemed ready to sacrifice anything for him. Yet real ancient Egyptian society was not a static, one‑note world. Humor thrived there, just as it does in many cultures today. Egyptians enjoyed jokes about themselves and about life with a sly wit that found its way into drawings, comic scenes, and playful stories that traveled through time as vivid snapshots of daily life.
Consider a mural inside the temple of Hatshepsut at Deir el-Bahri. A figure described as the queen of a far eastern land is shown in a caricatured moment—too much flesh and a comically small rear. The caption beneath reads: The donkey to carry the queen. This is one example of how animals could become central characters in ancient humor, taking roles that would seem odd in ordinary life. A lion might partner with an antelope in a game, while a cat could be seen shepherding geese. These playful personifications reveal a culture that relished whimsy alongside more solemn matters.
Surviving jokes from the period are rarer in text, but some have come down to us fully intact. The Tale of Setne Khamvas and Si-Osir, for instance, features the daughter of a pharaoh who suggests a union that would broaden a family’s influence: a general’s son, a general’s daughter, and a hope for lasting lineage. In the dialogue, the pharaoh raises a practical, almost comic, objection, and the daughter answers with a pragmatic, if sly, counterproposal. Such exchanges show humor as a social tool—witty, sharp, and very human.
Another quick bite of humor comes in a teasing exchange that mocks social expectations. A wife of advanced years is told that the marriage has lasted for two decades because of a single blind eye. The wife’s retort—why do you notice only one fault after all this time?—lands with a timeless punch, a reminder that jokes often hinge on shared frustrations and the small, human gaps within a long partnership. Some Egyptian jokes feel modern in form, though the cultural context has faded; they offer a window into how humor functioned as social glue and as a way to shrug off seriousness for a moment.
What about entertaining a bored pharaoh? The answer, perhaps surprisingly, echoes with the most ancient palatable form of diversion: a Nile voyage. A boat ride with young women wearing nets could be framed as a lighthearted suggestion for recreation, but scholars note that the humor likely carries a symbolic layer as well. The suggestion may flicker with sexual overtones, yet many Egyptologists argue that the subtext points to broader themes—rituals, fertility, and symbols tied to the river’s life-giving power rather than simple innuendo.
first real joke
Fast forward to the 19th century when archaeologists unearthed a Sumerian text dating back roughly 4,000 years. A bartender, a dog, and a punchline form the oldest known joke of the bar‑setting variety. The gag survives in multiple versions, with the dog sometimes forgetting to open a door or the doors themselves acting as the punchline. Some scholars read the line éš-dam as meaning a bar, others argue it could reference a brothel, adding a layer of wordplay that requires spoken language to land. In some retellings, the humor hinges on misdirection or context that modern readers may miss entirely.
Another ancient quip competing for the label of oldest joke features a young girl and her absence of a certain social constraint—an enigmatic line about a wife and her husband’s knee, which invites a range of interpretations about social norms, sexuality, and humor’s role in negotiating those norms. As with many ancient jokes, the context is slippery and the humor fragile to translation, yet the impulse to tease and challenge expectations remains clear.
Anecdotes from the wall of a Roman toilet
The Roman era left a robust legacy of humor, with much of it preserved on the walls of Pompeii’s public toilets and cataloged in antique writing. These pieces offer a glimpse of a society that treated humor as a constant companion to daily life and public ritual. One vignette describes a provincial visitor who bears a striking resemblance to Emperor Augustus. The emperor’s witty reply reframes the moment: the visitor’s mother never came to Rome, but his father did. The joke plays on lineage, vanity, and the social pecking order, and it still resonates as a clever social barb.
There are echoes of this style in modern English humor, where the same setup might appear in a satire about the aristocracy. Other Roman jokes skew toward fortune‑tellers and seers, whose credibility has long been a matter of debate among educated audiences. In a classic Olympic‑season tease, a runner dreams of four horses and asks for interpretation. The translator offers a bright forecast of victory, while a second reader counters with a skeptical view: there are already four competitors ahead, so luck looks irrelevant. The humor hinges on dream interpretation, expectation versus reality, and the playful exaggeration that makes audiences laugh even when the outcome is uncertain.
Many Roman anecdotes simply reflect a pragmatic, sometimes blunt worldview. A seller’s retort when a slave dies shortly after purchase—things were alive when bought—epitomizes humor born from harsh economic logic. Another exchange relies on the predictability of human behavior: two travelers meet, one is told the other has died, and the living man replies with a pragmatic twist about whose report was more trustworthy. These little dialogues reveal a society unafraid to laugh at misfortune, risk, and everyday ironies.
Yet the tone of Roman humor often contrasted with that of earlier civilizations. A joke about gathering two fifteen‑year‑old boys for a journey, only to end up with a thirty‑year‑old, or the playful math of comparing ages, showcases a casual, sometimes audacious approach to topics that modern readers might find shocking. In many versions, the apparent impropriety is softened by distance, context, and the sheer absurdity of the setup.