Comedians' Memoirs/Fiction

Stewart Lee – review

Leicester Square Theatre, London

Brian Logan
guardian.co.uk, Thursday 24 November 2011 18.11 GMT


More bilious than ever … Stewart Lee. Photograph: Martin Argles for the Guardian

Seinfeld was a sitcom about nothing. Stewart Lee now presents a standup show about nothing – or so he wants us to think. He's a middle-aged dad, you see, and "nothing happens to me now". So what can he write about? The answer is the process itself. This is Lee at his most self-referential and metatextual, if not always his most exciting. It's not just his own jokes he deconstructs tonight, but the impulse behind the show, his career, his self. "I don't know who I am any more," he says – and, with a persona composed of this many subversions and quadruple bluffs, that's hardly surprising.

Not that a strong personality doesn't come across. More bilious than ever, Lee gripes at his fellow comics, at his fairweather new audience, at the "feral, Lord of the Flies" online world. There's self-disgust, too: he apologises for the bittiness and badness of this show. But none of this can be taken on trust. It's becoming a tic with Lee to tell a true story then admit he made it all up. It's a trick we now see coming, which can be a wearying feeling. His cerebral pose, and disdain for jokes and convention, is a sort of trick, too: it certainly doesn't stop him defaulting to jokes and convention when he fancies a big laugh. Reading out eccentric or abusive material culled from the internet, as Lee does here, is a standup standby these days; and his routine about Tim Rice, Anneka Rice and basmati rice is as cheap as laughs come (and none the worse for it).

That was part of a piece about celebrity Tories, the opening half hour of the show having ranged from Bin Laden to Dale Farm to the Libyan uprising. Later, Lee puts to bed the claim that comedians never joke about Islam, and seeks comic inspiration as he drives up and down the M4. It's enjoyable to see Lee in this looser format – even if, as he admits, the show lacks cohesion. There are also fewer instances of that highwire skill he has of making us laugh without knowing why. Closest is a riff on political history with reference points culled from his son's Scooby-Doo DVD: an experimental spin on the comedy of new parenthood. At such moments, Lee demonstrates that an uneventful life need be no barrier to provocative comedy.

Frankie Boyle attacks new Scottish laws against religious hatred and bigotry

Comedian says offensive behaviour law is 'an attack on freedom of speech', and makes a joke at the expense of the McCanns

Matt Trueman

guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 10 January 2012 12.37 GMT

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Outspoken ... Frankie Boyle has condemned laws against offensive behaviour, passed by the Scottish Parliament, as 'colonial'. Photograph: Linda Nylind for the Guardian

Outspoken comedian Frankie Boyle has condemned new laws designed to stamp out religious hatred and bigotry in Scotland as "colonial," "laughable" and "an attack on freedom of speech".

In an interview with The List magazine, Boyle described the legislation, which was passed by the Scottish Parliament last month, as "the ruling classes telling the working classes what to say and think".

Describing the behaviour of Rangers and Celtic fans as "a valid culture", he continued: "You can't come in and say that the opinions those people hold, the songs they sing, the language they use is inferior and invalid."

The offensive behaviour law, which carries a maximum sentence of five years' imprisonment and an unlimited fine, introduces two new offences regarding the expression or incitement of "religious, racial or other forms of hatred" in public or online. It specifically targets conduct during football matches, both in and around grounds and among groups of fans watching elsewhere, in pubs or on big screens, as well as serious threats made on social networks and elsewhere online.

Boyle admitted that sectarianism was "a real problem", but called for an approach that tackled its root causes, rather than its effects. "If we were really serious about this the first step is to end religious segregation in schools. It's a Scottish reaction to think we can get rid of all this with a piece of paper.

"Some of the songs and words contravene laws on racial hatred, and maybe even on inciting violence. But that's a debate that needs to be had. Why aren't we having that? Because it would be really fucking awkward."

The comedian has also drawn criticism for joking about the McCann family in the interview.

Asked whether he had been following the Leveson enquiry, Boyle replied, "Yeah. I saw the McCanns on there and really wanted them to go, 'Could you round it up in the next five minutes, mate? We've left the kids over in Starbucks.' Just to show they can still have a bit of a laugh."

A spokesman for the Scottish Conservatives dismissed the remarks as "the latest in a series of ill-judged comments from this particular comedian – a sure sign he is running out of anything genuinely funny to say".

Portrait of the artist: Arthur Smith, comedian

'My worst heckle? In Edinburgh, a bloke poured a pint of urine over me'

Interview by Laura Barnett

guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 24 January 2012 22.30 GMT


It'll cost you more than threepence these days … Arthur Smith. Photograph: Martin Godwin for the Guardian

What got you started?

When I was eight or nine, I wrote a new version of Peter Pan for the school play. They didn't use it – I imagine it was unperformable – but as recompense for not doing my script, I was offered any role, and instinctively went for Captain Hook. I came on trying to be terrifying, but everyone laughed at me.

What was your big breakthrough?

Not long after that, two girls offered me threepence in class to show them my willy. That was certainly my first professional engagement; I didn't have another one for about 10 years.

Who or what have you sacrificed for your art?

Quite a lot of liver cells. There's not many places of work where you arrive and everyone's drinking heavily – but that's what it's like in a comedy club.

You're very attached to your London roots. Do you think it's important for comedy to be rooted in a sense of place?

I think it's often extremely helpful. It's a game you play: a lot of Geordie comics do jokes about being Geordie, and the same for Scousers. To most people, I'm a Cockney, and I'll play that up a bit: they imagine I speak in Cockney rhyming slang, and if need be, I will.

Why has there been such a boom in comedy in the UK recently?

Because comedy is cheap to put on: if you've got a play or an opera, there's a whole load of people and a set, but comedy is just one man or woman. And because TV has learned to love comics – there's so many more around now than when I started out.

What's the worst heckle you've ever had?

A bloke poured a pint of urine over me once. It was in a club in Edinburgh, where the whole audience was completely out of their heads. It sounds bad on paper, but I don't think he really hated me.

Is there anything about your career you regret?

That I've not made myself write more. Performing is easier: you finish, and people clap and want to sleep with you. You finish writing, and no one's even noticed.

Which other artists do you admire?

Leonard Cohen: he's a poet, he has integrity, and I can slightly impersonate him.

What's the most important thing you've learnt from your years as a comedian?

Don't take it too seriously. We'll all be dead tomorrow.

Interview by Laura Barnett

In short

Born: Bermondsey, London, 1954

Career: Best known for standup; other work includes Arthur Smith Sings Leonard Cohen and Excess Baggage. Introduced the Critics' Circle Theatre awards 2011, which took place yesterday at the Prince of Wales theatre in London.

High point: "An outdoor show I did once at the Edinburgh festival."

Low point: "Paramount City, a hopeless TV series I did in the 90s."

Tough act to follow: the rise of the comedian-turned-compere

Standup legends Frank Skinner and Alexei Sayle are returning to their compering roots. But how do famously funny MCs avoid upstaging the acts they are introducing?


How do I compere? ... Frank Skinner will be hosting variety shows at Noel Coward Theatre, London. Photograph: Graeme Robertson

The compere at a comedy gig is not usually the night's highlight, but this week that may be the exception to the rule – twice. Tonight Frank Skinner launches a two-week run of his Frank Skinner and Friends performances at London's Noel Coward Theatre. Until 4 February, Skinner will be hosting variety shows featuring music, juggling and chums such as Al Murray and Richard Herring.

Then, tomorrow, another standup legend pitches up within heckling distance of Skinner. Alexei Sayle made his name as the compere at Soho's original bearpit, the Comedy Store, back in 1979. Now approaching 60, he introduced some acts at a Royal Festival Hall comedy night last year and enjoyed the experience so much that he's doing the same at London's Soho Theatre on the next three Tuesdays.

It is intriguing that these two formidable talents have both chosen to return to the stage without performing the usual extended set that is the norm for headline acts. For Skinner, this harks back to his cut-price Credit Crunch Cabaret shows at the Lyric in 2009 – and heaven knows the economy is also harking back to 2009 – but more significantly it reflects his origins, compering at the XXXX Club in Birmingham in the late 1980s. Then, every gig required new material, in contrast to the touring acts who could rehash the same set all over the country. Facing the same returning audience, Skinner was forced to keep things fresh. It helped him to develop that quickfire quipping survival instinct that he still has today.

Compering is no soft option, though. The best comperes enthuse the audience and amuse them without actually upstaging the acts they introduce – not easy when many fans will be at these gigs precisely to see the compere. When Peter Kay was starting out and compering around Manchester, legend has it that acts had genuine difficulties appearing with him; he was so popular that audiences would drift off to the bar during the turns, and only return when Kay sauntered on.

Of course, MCs don't always help their fellow performers. Kay – again – was the host of a Teenage Cancer Trust benefit in 2005, and after Noel Fielding had been slightly wrongfooted by a heckler, Kay treated the packed Royal Albert Hall as the fictional Phoenix Club and publicly suggested that Fielding was not his cup of tea either. Not much in the way of showbiz solidarity.

Then again, some comperes become famous exactly for doing the latter. When the late, legendary Malcolm Hardee used to front gigs at his Tunnel Club in Greenwich he was quietly supportive of newcomers offstage, but onstage he threw down the gauntlet. "This next act's probably a bit shit," was Hardee's trademark way of introducing the talent. Not a line, one suspects, those kindly old pros Skinner or Sayle will be using.