It’s the new year, and one of my “three-day” obsessions – delving further into the world of Japanese comedy – is solidifying into a habit. It’s January 4th, and I’m persevering with Ame Talk, a weekly talk show which features comedians as its sole guests. The end of year special boasts a cast of increasingly well-known and popular faces on the comedy scene, from the 2019 M1 Grand Prix semi-finalists Kamaitachi to Kirin’s Akira Kawashima, the urbane host of TBS’s morning variety show Ravit. I’m quickly becoming a fan of Kawashima, who’s also a regular panelist on Wednesday’s Downtown, the only new show I watched in 2024 that I’ve become a committed fan of due to its boundary-pushing pranks and tests of bizarre but compelling “theories”. Ame Talk, on the other hand, is an occasional fling. If there’s nothing else better to watch, I’ll consider it.

In theory, the concept – comedians discussing comedy or topics they can spin into comedy – is appealing to me. But in practice, it’s hit and miss. The subjects they discuss vary wildly, from having a teacher as a parent, to the travails associated with a permanent upset stomach. The latter theme inspired this, my first blog post. The episode of Ame Talk that revolves around this unique topic reminded me of specific terms that shed some light on the fundamental structures holding up the disorienting world of Japanese comedy, and taught me a new, essential piece of vocabulary that any Japanese student (comedy fan or no) should know: onaka pi pi お腹ピーピー.

Onaka pi pi refers to intestinal trouble – the kind that makes you run to the bathroom, lest a tragedy befall you and everyone in your immediate vicinity. Diarrhea, to be painfully specific. It can be shortened (like pretty much everything in Japanese) to the acronym “OPP”. Pi pi originated from the Osaka dialect. It acts as both an adjective and onomatopoeia – it means “upset” (as in an “upset stomach”) and also refers to the gurgling sound one’s stomach makes when it’s upset (although in my experience, it’s a lower, far more sinister rumble). As funny as it sounds (and it brings me no end of amusement to repeat it to anyone who will hear it), the phrase refers to a genuine, rather hellish problem experienced by the entire panel of comedians in this themed episode of Ame Talk. Many tales of toilet-related woe are shared, from finding oneself unable to last the entirety of a show recording and having to be excused, to going through one’s elementary school days unaware that a urinal is not fit for the contents of one’s stomach…

At least the comedian who related the latter story was able to use his toilet misadventures to get some laughs from his schoolmates – the verb ukeru ウケる is used in this context, meaning “to get a laugh”, or more broadly, “to be funny” (as in a gag or joke).

Of course, any discussion between comedians on any subject involves the use of manzai 漫才 terms. Manzai is Japan’s native style of comedy. It’s performed by two comedians, referred to collectively as a kombi コンビ, who play the complementary roles of boke ボケ and tsukkomi ツッコミ. The former is a seemingly dull-witted fellow (or lass) who makes obviously erroneous observations about the subject of discussion between the two (their jokes, which are performed again and again in the same fashion at each performance, are called neta ネタ). The tsukkomi calls the boke out on their mistakes and berates them, sometimes even “reprimanding” them physically. The tsukkomi of Nishikigoi, a popular kombi at the moment, is known for slapping the bald head of his comedy partner (or aikata 相方) whenever he says something stupid (which, as you may guess, is fairly frequently).

The core of Japanese comedy is wordplay. The ability to make accurate and hilarious quips is referred to as “word sense” or wado sensu ワードセンス, and is essential to the success of any kombi. Although boke is simply an insulting word for someone not blessed in the brains department (someone who “blanks”, or “forgets”, or simply, someone who is “confused” = ボケる), tsukkomi refers to the act of “going for” whatever is being handed to them verbally by the boke to get a laugh – pouncing on the punchline, so to speak. The word refers to a kind of verbal “thrust”, from the verb tsukkomu 突っ込む, “to plunge into” – in the way that a fencer goes for an exposed weak spot, the tsukkomi leaps on the opportunity given to them by the boke to expose their stupidity. The speed and skill with which they banter, as well as their personal chemistry, are crucial elements of a kombi‘s performance. Their breakups can be dramatic affairs, often gossiped about on and even made the focus of variety shows like Wednesday’s Downtown.

Not all comedians form manzai duos – some perform in groups of three, or owarai torios お笑いトリオ. One of my favourite trios is Neptune, who are known for being the regular hosts of their own long-running quiz show, Nep League, as well as being 3/7 of the hosts of Shabekkuri 007, a chat show which features guests who are unknown to the hosts, but promoted ahead of time to viewers at home. Whilst performing as a duo is the most common way comedians climb the ranks of the comedy world, one or both halves may achieve distinction in their own right as MCs. A prime example is Shinya Ueda from Cream Stew. He’s highly sought-after for his sharp wit and amiability.

Kirin… Nishikigoi… Cream Stew…If you’re wondering why kombis and torios have such unusual names… I’m saving that for another post. Stay tuned.

Back to “toilet humor” for a moment – I gleaned some essential facts about the use of “dirty” vocabulary from this episode, as well as comedy terms. For example… did you know that the verb morasu 漏らす, meaning “to leak” (figuratively… and physically), is used for both urine AND diarrhea? Or that the dishes most likely to cause some digestive distress (i.e. extremely spicy ones) are referred to as geki-kara 激辛 (an example of the relatively rare jubako-yomi 重箱読み, or on’yomi followed by kun’yomi in a two-character compound word?). Or that a baby’s cry can be conveyed by the use of the onomatopoeia babu バブー?

Why did this come out in the conversation? Nappies. Enough said.

And with that, I wish you all a happy new year, free from anxious stomachs, and full of laughs.