If you picked up this book hoping for entertaining jokes and witty remarks, your expectations may be rapidly dashed. It is clearly not a book of anecdotes but one that describes the relationships between humour and politics in Africa. As much as we (the authors) like to think we are funny, you – the reader – may disagree. This is because even though we find each other hilarious and often laughed over the course of writing this manuscript, the jokes we enjoyed during meetings (Izuu and Dan often told dry dad-jokes, while Laura regaled them with tales from dating app encounters) may not elicit mirth in other circumstances. We did enjoy these gatherings and saw our discussions as a nice reprieve from ‘that lockdown life’, and at times used humour to deal with set-backs and logistical challenges – one of which is alluded to in the earlier ‘joke’.

Through the latter parts of 2021, we had worked remotely on sections of this book, emailing draft content to each other and meeting on Zoom and GoogleMeet. By early 2022, we felt it was important to meet for an in-person writing retreat to work through and finalize the content collectively. To do this, Izuu – travelling on a Nigerian passport – needed to come to the UK from Germany. After completing seemingly more paperwork than would be needed for an intergalactic trade agreement, Izuu applied for the necessary visa. The planned date for the writing retreat approached and passed, the seasons changed, the ice caps melted, stars were born and died, and eventually the much-delayed visa was issued and the writing retreat rearranged. Needless to say, our use of humour through this journey was a mix of coping, stress release and commentary on the state of British politics and society. Nevertheless, this book is not about us, nor is it an attempt to subject the audience to our lame (and at times wildly inappropriate) senses of humour.