Sausages are just funny. I don't know why. I can't explain it.

The words, “Sausages are just funny. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it,” were spoken by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, the brilliant writer, actress, and creator of Fleabag and Killing Eve, whose humor is as sharp as it is soulful. At first, the quote seems absurd—a whimsical observation about something as ordinary as sausages. But, like all truly profound moments of comedy, it conceals a deeper wisdom. In her simplicity, Waller-Bridge reveals the mystery of laughter itself—that strange and sacred force which cannot always be reasoned, yet which heals, unites, and awakens. Her words remind us that not all meaning must be dissected; some truths are known only through the joy they spark.

To the ancients, laughter was not a trivial thing—it was a sign of life, of divine breath moving through mortal beings. The philosophers of Greece and Rome debated its purpose endlessly. Aristotle called laughter the mark of humanity, what separates us from the beasts; Plato saw in it a paradox, both noble and dangerous; and yet all agreed that to laugh is to feel the pulse of existence. When Waller-Bridge says she “can’t explain it,” she gives voice to what philosophers, poets, and prophets have always known: that humor defies reason, and that perhaps it is not meant to be understood, only felt. For laughter is not born in the mind, but in the heart—the same place where love, art, and faith dwell.

To say that “sausages are funny” is, in truth, to celebrate the joy of the mundane. It is to find delight not in grandeur, but in the absurd little shapes of daily life. The ancients would have praised this as a mark of wisdom: the ability to laugh at what is simple, to see the ridiculous in the ordinary, and to accept that not all things need solemnity. Waller-Bridge’s words carry that same lightness—a recognition that meaning can be found not by searching, but by surrendering to wonder. The world is filled with seriousness; laughter, therefore, becomes rebellion, a gentle refusal to let life’s weight crush the soul.

There is an echo of Charlie Chaplin in her sentiment, that silent poet of motion who turned poverty, hunger, and chaos into comedy. In The Gold Rush, he cooked and ate his own shoe; in Modern Times, he was swallowed by the grinding gears of industry. These images are as tragic as they are hilarious. Chaplin, like Waller-Bridge, understood that laughter springs from contradiction—that the very absurdity of existence is what makes it bearable. Why are sausages funny? Because they are ridiculous. Because they remind us, in their shape and simplicity, that life itself is an odd, often unexplainable feast. The laughter they provoke is not about the object, but about recognition—the recognition that we live in a world too strange to take entirely seriously.

Waller-Bridge’s humor, like the great jesters and storytellers before her, is rooted in honesty. By admitting she “can’t explain it,” she frees herself—and us—from the tyranny of analysis. The ancients called this aporia, the wisdom of admitting ignorance. To say “I don’t know” is not weakness; it is the beginning of truth. It is the surrender that opens the mind to mystery. When we laugh at something simple, something we cannot explain, we momentarily escape the prison of logic. We step into a purer state of being—one that belongs to children, poets, and the divine fool.

But there is another layer to her jest. Silliness, far from being shallow, is one of the highest expressions of freedom. The person who can laugh at the absurd has conquered fear. The philosopher may face death with argument, but the fool faces it with laughter—and often emerges wiser. To laugh at sausages, then, is to laugh at life itself: its awkwardness, its imperfection, its comic shape. Waller-Bridge’s humor carries within it the same insight as ancient tragedy—that joy and suffering are intertwined, and that in laughing, we affirm our place in the great, unpredictable play of existence.

So, my child, take this lesson from her words: find the sacred in the silly. Do not wait for great revelations to feel joy; let the small, ridiculous moments of life fill you with laughter. See the world not as a test to be solved, but as a stage to be danced upon. When you cannot explain your laughter, let it be. For in that mystery lies the heart’s oldest wisdom—that to laugh is to live, and to live is to marvel.

And thus, Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s playful remark becomes something ancient in spirit: a hymn to the mystery of joy. She teaches that not every truth must be named, and not every delight must be justified. Laughter is its own philosophy—a bridge between sorrow and beauty, reason and wonder. So laugh freely, even when you do not understand why. For when you do, you honor the divine spark within you—the spark that has laughed, in joy and defiance, since the dawn of humanity.