Comedy

Joan Rivers has a couple of hours free between her afternoon segment selling her hugely successful line of jewellery on QVC and her early-evening shift. She likes to check out what the young people are wearing over here whenever she’s in town. So we head to Topshop on Oxford Street for a chat and a shop. This diminutive septuagenarian hunts through the racks like a woman possessed, throwing endless glittering necklaces and shiny bracelets into her personal assistant’s basket.

‘Don’t just watch me. Find something for you daughter and fiancée,’ she demands in that familiar rasping New York drawl.

She advises me on what to buy for whom and shakes her head at my poorer choices. We chat as we choose.

Do you think comedians have the right to talk about whatever they like?
‘Yes. I put everything I think is funny in the act, and I think a lot of really sick things are funny. Bill Cosby once said to me that if only one per cent of the world’s population thinks you’re funny, you’ll fill stadiums for the rest of your life, so don’t worry about the other ninety-nine per cent. I always think about that when I do a Helen Keller joke or a really bad taste Anne Frank one.’

You knew the legendary shock comic Lenny Bruce. How much of an influence did he have on you?
‘He blew me away. He was an amazing comedian, actually talking about important things. There was such humanity about him. Once, when I was in a terrible act called “Jim, Jake and Joan”, Lenny came to see it. We bombed so hard that night that
I seriously thought about quitting comedy. But he sent me a note saying: “You’re right, they’re wrong.” I kept the note in my bra for six months.’
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