When comedian Sugar Sammy had the nerve to poke fun at Quebec's language law in an advertising campaign last month, it was too much for the president of the nationalist Société Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

By declaring he wanted a complaint to the provincial government's language watchdog for Christmas, Sugar Sammy was “spitting in the faces” of Quebec francophones, Maxime Laporte told the Journal de MONTRÉAL.

To illustrate his point, he went on television, waving a printout of an email he said he had received from the comedian's agent. “I would like to tell you to go f— yourself,” he quoted from it.

The email was quickly revealed to be a hoax, and Mr. Laporte was exposed as the biggest clown of this particular circus, having adeptly accomplished exactly what the fake email instructed. (A close second was the lawyer who granted the Christmas wish and actually filed a complaint with the Office québécois de la langue française.)

Sugar Sammy, a Montreal-raised child of Indian immigrants whose real name is Samir Khullar, has a knack for getting under the skin of hardline Quebec nationalists.

“There are two kinds of Quebecers,” he joked at a 2009 French-language gala. “There are educated, cultivated, well-raised Quebecers, then there are the ones who voted ‘Yes.' ”

But as was the case with Mr. Laporte, Mr. Khullar typically gets the last laugh.

Since launching his bilingual You're Gonna Rire show in 2012 and following it up with the all-French En Français SVP!, he has sold 275,000 tickets in the province.

The French show has accounted for nearly 60% of sales, and for two years running he was voted comedian of the year at Quebec's Olivier awards. He plays to packed houses across the province, from Rouyn-Noranda in the northwest to the nationalist heartland of Saguenay in the northeast.

The embrace of his humour across linguistic lines reflects a changing mindset in Quebec. Those who take offence are in the minority and are generally made to look ridiculous.

His popularity can be seen as evidence of a greater linguistic security among the francophone majority. Far from being the threat to French some hardline nationalists suggest, Sugar Sammy is living, wisecracking proof Quebec's language law, Bill 101, has worked.

Richard Bourhis, a psychology professor at the Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM), has spent a lot of time researching the vitality of Quebec's English-speaking communities. He sees Sugar Sammy as a breath of fresh air.

“When you look at all the small towns and cities he is covering in Quebec, with ticket sales doing well, that I think is truly the sign that attitudes have changed,” Mr. Bourhis said. “Quebec francophones can now laugh at what has been a serious matter for so long, since the '70s. The first step to intercultural harmony is maybe through humour.”

It is true language has seldom been a laughing matter here. There have long been anglophone comics and writers satirizing the excesses of Quebec's language police, but the francophone majority typically ignored or condemned them. Recently, however, there have been signs that what was once an anglo sport of mocking language laws is more widely enjoyed.

Last year's “Pastagate” incident, in which a Montreal Italian restaurant was investigated for using the word “pasta” on its menu, was a watershed moment illustrating the absurd extremes of language legislation. It received extensive coverage in both languages.

More recently, news that a vanity licence plate project was on hold out of concern English obscenities would be sneaked in was roundly mocked. The blocking of English-only websites of U.S. companies that have physical stores in Quebec drew criticism in both official languages.

“I think if you're feeling more secure, you're able to laugh at the efforts that you have made, in this case, to secure the French language and culture institutionally,” Mr. Bourhis said. “That is a great step, a positive first step.”

In a sense, Mr. Khullar, 38, embodies what the architects of Bill 101 imagined when the legislation was enacted in 1977. As a child of immigrants, he was obliged to attend French school, and now switches effortlessly between French and English, not to mention Punjabi and Hindi. And as a result he has been able to succeed where an old-stock anglophone, no matter how fluently bilingual, would have had trouble because of the cultural baggage left by centuries of French-English tension.

Writing in La Presse this week, arts columnist Marc Cassivi said he personally found hilarious a Sugar Sammy gag in which he recounts a heated debate with a sovereigntist — a UQAM graduate — who took him to task over his humour.

“Listen, it's really interesting what you're telling me. We'll talk about it another time,” Sammy replies. “But for now, can you give me my Big Mac trio?”

Mr. Cassivi said too often sovereigntists are not targeted by francophone comics.

“Sugar Sammy makes fun of the independence monomaniacs, of their inferiority complexes, their little sensitivities and their cruel lack of humour,” he wrote. “He makes fun of his audience, gently, I would dare say, like he makes fun of himself.”

More people than not are laughing, and that is a good sign.

“Of course there are some, you could say ethnic nationalists, who are attacking Sugar Sammy on different grounds, but I think that's the exception,” Mr. Bourhis said.

“Even if it were 50-50, that's already a terrific advance in being more comfortable dealing with cultural communities and linguistic communities.”

PHOTO : John Kenney/THE GAZETTE

Sugar Sammy performs during his 'Le Show Franglais: You're Gonna Rire' at the at the Olympia Theatre in Montreal Tuesday, February 28, 2012.