Comedy

What do you think?

Everyone knows that London leads the world in the serious business of live comedy. It has more clubs, comedians and promoters than any other city on the planet. It contains more comic talent per square metre than anywhere else on Earth. It has knowledgeable and demanding audiences. Performers arrive from all over the English-speaking world (and other more unlikely places) for the chance to work here. But success on a grand scale can breed complacency and self-satisfaction. We invited a cross-section of comedians on the London circuit to tell us how the situation could be even better.
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Matt Blaize (pictured), who started out in stand-up six years ago, reckons the main problem comes down to money. ‘Back in the days when guys like Rik Mayall and Alexei Sayle were getting a fiver, or a tenner, to do 20 minutes at The Comedy Store, I think there was a spirit of freedom. Then someone called comedy the new rock ’n’ roll, the entrance prices went up and the comedians’ fees went up with them. Now we’re in a state of stagnation. Comedians are understandably less wild because they have a very comfortable lifestyle and a mortgage to protect.’

Alistair Barrie, who first played the circuit in May 1998, agrees there’s ‘a tendency towards the safe and slightly samey’. In major clubs like Jongleurs, he says, there’s a real pressure not to fail: ‘Thus, very few of the comics really take risks. I like to think there’s a reaction against this in the rise of cabaret-style shows. The success of Robin Ince’s “Book Club” clearly indicates there’s an appetite for bills that are less bloke-with-a-microphone dominated.’

Barrie’s also concerned there aren’t enough women on the circuit. ‘I’d also like to see much improved coverage of comedy in the print media. Time Out features circuit talent week in and week out but it’s the only publication with a proper section dedicated to what is an art form. There is, as Rob Newman recently pointed out, no properly developed language or tradition of criticism for what might loosely be termed post-alternative comedy. But then, come the Edinburgh Festival, every journalist who might once have been to the theatre suddenly becomes a fucking comedy expert!’

Charmian Hughes (she began her comedy career in 1985) joins Barrie in celebrating ‘interesting, quirky, creative and bonkers’ nights such as Pear-Shaped in Fitzrovia and the Book Club. But she thinks there are too few ‘middle-range, established clubs’ like the Bearcat, Downstairs at the King’s Head and Banana Cabaret’, occupying the territory between Jongleurs and the many new-act nights.

The new-act nights come in for a fair hammering. Robin Cousins (the laid-back comedian, not the ice skater) says ‘a common complaint is the proliferation of smaller gigs, often started by acts fresh off a comedy course who want to compere and get stage time’. That’s fine as a motive, he explains, ‘but some poor bugger has to sit in the audience and witness the birth pains’.

Danielle Ward, winner of the TO Best Newcomer Award in 2006, takes the argument a stage further. ‘There are too many small gigs. In theory, this should be wonderful because, when you’re starting out, you get the chance to perform relatively easily. In practice, it leaves you with a string of badly run gigs where the promoter takes all the money and the audience are confused as to why they’ve paid £5 to see some mentals airing their relationship problems.’

Tiernan Douieb (three-and-a-half years in the business and now close to making a living from it) says there are simply too many acts in London. Above all, there are too few spots available in the leading clubs. This is partly, he calculates, because ‘comedians who’ve been doing it for years don’t retire’. So he has a cunning plan. ‘The only possible solution would be a very high government-funded pension, or the guarantee of a TV career, for comedians once they reach a certain age. This would allow the new comics to move up and the older ones to live happily without ever again needing to deal with a stag night.’

Not everyone believes that London has a problem. Dominic Frisby believes the question that needs asking is ‘what’s wrong with TV comedy, when the live circuit is so good?’ Paul Foot claims ‘anyone who says there’s something wrong with the circuit should have a staining fruit, such as blackcurrant, rubbed into his or her clothing’. Henning Wehn is less vindictive but more definitive: ‘The comedy circuit is the only thing in London that works to German standards. Unlike the public transport to and from the gigs.’

So is everything in the London comedy garden rosy? What’s been getting up your nose? Have your say below.