The complex cruelty of comedy

An excerpt from my book “The New Puritans”.

One of my more vivid memories from early childhood is when I was cornered by a group of older boys behind a disused greenhouse near to my school. Over months of neglect, a thick patch of nettles and brambles had broken out against the glass panes, and inevitably I was pushed into this mass of clawing weeds. I was wearing my summer uniform at the time, w…