“So I see,” said the blind man as he picked up his hammer and saw. This peculiar little sentence is more than just a corny joke; it’s a perfect example of a nearly forgotten form of comedic wordplay known as the “Wellerism.” A delightful fossil of linguistic humor, the Wellerism is a three-part joke structure that elegantly combines a statement, a speaker, and a punchline that flips the statement’s meaning on its head.
At first glance, it might sound like a simple pun or a dad joke. But the Wellerism has a surprisingly rich history and a specific formula that sets it apart. It’s a lost art form that reveals just how much fun our ancestors had twisting the English language. So, let’s dust off this old format and explore its origins, its mechanics, and why it deserves to be remembered.
What Exactly Is a Wellerism?
The magic of a Wellerism lies in its rigid, tripartite structure. Think of it as a comedic chemical formula: Statement + Speaker + Situation. The humor erupts when the third part—the situation—forces a comically literal interpretation of the first part—the statement.
Let’s break it down:
- The Statement: This is usually a well-known cliché, proverb, or common utterance. It’s the setup, delivered straight-faced. (“Every little bit helps..”.)
- The Speaker: The attribution, always introduced with “said the..”. or “as the..”. This identifies who is talking. (…said the old woman…)
- The Situation: This is the punchline. It’s a clause that describes what the speaker is doing, creating a new, literal context for the initial statement that clashes hilariously with its usual figurative meaning. (…as she peed in the sea.)
The collision between the figurative and the literal is the engine of the joke. The cliché is yanked out of its familiar territory and thrown into an absurd physical reality.
Here are a few classic examples:
“I’m beside myself,” said the man as the train cut him in two.
“Simply remarkable!” said the teacher when asked her opinion of the new dry-erase board.
“It’s all in the wrist,” said the pickpocket.
In each case, an ordinary phrase is rendered extraordinary by its new context. The genius of the Wellerism is that it uses the grammar of quotation itself—“he said / she said”—as a fundamental part of the joke’s machinery.
A Tip of the Hat to Mr. Weller
So, where did this quirky format get its name? For that, we must turn to one of the titans of English literature: Charles Dickens.
The term “Wellerism” is an eponym derived from Sam Weller, a beloved character from Dickens’s 1837 novel, The Pickwick Papers. Sam, the cheerful and street-smart Cockney bootblack who becomes Mr. Pickwick’s valet, has a peculiar habit of illustrating his points with outlandish, often grim, proverbial comparisons. These sayings are the clear ancestors of the modern Wellerism.
Unlike the slick, pun-based Wellerisms we know today, Sam’s are more rambling, morbid, and nonsensical. They don’t always rely on a play on words, but they firmly establish the structure of [statement] + “as the [speaker] said” + [bizarre situation].
For instance, when trying to make his father comfortable, Sam says:
“There! Now we look compact and comfortable, as the father said ven he cut his little boy’s head off, to cure him o’ squintin’.”
And when expressing his pleasure at meeting someone, he remarks:
“Wery glad to see you, indeed, and hope our acquaintance may be a long ‘un, as the gen’l’m’n said to the fi’ pun’ note.”
These proto-Wellerisms made Sam Weller a literary superstar of the 19th century. Readers were so charmed by his linguistic gymnastics that the format took on a life of its own, spreading as a form of folk humor and eventually being named in his honor. The jokes became snappier and more reliant on puns over time, but the credit for their popularization goes directly to Dickens’s unforgettable character.
From Dickens to Dad Jokes: The Evolution of a Formula
After Dickens, the Wellerism escaped the pages of the novel and entered oral tradition, becoming a staple of Victorian and early 20th-century humor. Folklorists even classify it as a specific proverb type (Type 2014 in the Aarne-Thompson-Uther Index of folktale types), recognizing it as a distinct form of expression that has appeared in various cultures.
Indeed, Wellerism-like structures can be found in other languages. German has its sagte-Witze (“said-jokes”), and Dutch has similar zei de man (“said the man”) jokes, all of which play on the same structural formula. The human love for deconstructing language through literalism, it seems, is universal.
So why did the Wellerism fade from mainstream popularity? Humor evolves. The formula, once novel, perhaps became too predictable. The rise of new media—radio, film, television—brought with it new comedic styles like observational stand-up and the sitcom, which pushed aside more structured, old-fashioned joke formats. The Wellerism was relegated to the realm of children’s joke books and the occasional “dad joke”, its historical and literary significance largely forgotten.
The Lost Art? Why Wellerisms Still Matter
While you may not hear Wellerisms in a modern comedy club, they are far from useless. For anyone interested in language, they are a perfect miniature laboratory for exploring key linguistic concepts:
- Polysemy and Homophony: Wellerisms thrive on words with multiple meanings (polysemy) or words that sound the same but mean different things (homophony). The “hammer and saw” joke is a prime example, playing on “saw” as a tool and “saw” as the past tense of “to see”.
- Idiomatic vs. Literal Meaning: The format is a masterclass in the difference between what we say and what we literally mean. It weaponizes the literal to dismantle the figurative.
- Pragmatics: This is the study of how context contributes to meaning. The Wellerism is a study in pragmatics, as the “situation” clause radically alters the context and, therefore, the meaning of the initial statement.
Beyond the academic, creating Wellerisms is a fantastic creative exercise. The formula is simple enough for anyone to try: just take a common idiom and think of a profession or situation that would make it literally true.
For example:
“We have a real connection,” said the Lego brick.
“My life is in ruins,” said the archaeologist.
“I have to run,” said the leaky faucet.
The Wellerism is more than a historical footnote. It’s a testament to our enduring fascination with language itself—its quirks, its ambiguities, and its potential for playful subversion. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the smartest humor comes from taking things at their most basic, literal value.
So next time you hear a cliché, take a moment. See if you can give it a speaker and a situation. You might just revive a lost art, one witty, groan-inducing joke at a time.
“Well, that’s my story,” said the bookbinder, “and I’m sticking to it.”