Scottish stand-up and actor, Karen Dunbar wondered whether she could succeed in today’s climate. She showed a roomful of trans and non-binary young people a sketch she’d written and performed decades ago. In the sketch, a woman enthuses about finally coming out as a lesbian and that she’s had enough of dirty, stinking men. Then her date turns up; stubbly, potato faced and unmistakably male.
‘I don’t think that should ever be shown again,’ said one, breaking down in tears. Karen regards them sympathetically, she can’t argue with tears, but she’s mystified. Had they been elderly such a reaction might have been ridiculed, as Mary Whitehouse was rightly ridiculed. But this was a young crowd and their tears were serious. Who is to say what really lay behind them? More than the sketch I daresay.
If I was unable to turn misery into the absurd I’m not sure I would have been worth knowing. I have periods of despondency and hopelessness and what spurs me out of them is, and has always been, comedy. Not making other people laugh, lovely though that is. Laughing at the absurdity of a tragic situation is delicate of course, it doesn’t always hit the mark but when it does it’s magic. Getting drunk with friends can be a perfect tonic precisely because drunk people are not tactful.
Comedy from traumatic sources conveys a particular understanding and comradeship that is perhaps too subtle for those who fear causing offense. Those who have served in the police or armed forces will bear me out on this. It’s that gentle chiding that sorts your head out.
Even the most serious and difficult topics are particularly ripe for comedy. Trauma is the source of a surprising amount of comedy:
Mel Brooks
Writer of the comedy song, Springtime for Hitler. Son of a German Jew
· Rob Delany
Was seriously injured when he crashed his car while drunk. He feared he had caused fatalities. Drink driving became a storyline in the comedy series, Catastrophe.
· Sue Townsend
Witnessed the murder of a fellow schoolgirl.
· Bob Mortimer
Lost his dad at a young age and soon after caused a fire which destroyed the family home.
· Scott Thompson
Witnessed a school shooting. Created the Kids in the Hall character, Buddy Cole, based on the boyfriend he lost to AIDs.
· Kevin McDonald
Created Kids in the Hall sketches inspired by his father’s alcoholism. As McDonald says of The Kids in the Hall, “All our daddies drank.”
All seemingly well-adjusted, happy people. Then there are those who did struggle with their mental health but even then, it seems the comedy helped.
· David Hoyle (or the Devine David)
Suffered at breakdown at 14 following homophobic abuse. Inspired by standup he turned to comedy.
· Spike Milligan
Mental breakdown due to trauma suffered while serving in the second world war. The Goons drew on the trauma of world war two as The Wipers Times drew on the trauma of world war one.
Just one woman. Sue Townsend is a woman I am particularly indebted to. I discovered the first Adrian Mole book at my aunt’s house when I was twelve or thirteen. I didn’t know it was popular and copied out whole diary entries in my letters home. If Townsends books had been about a teenage girl, would they have been as successful? Women and girls are not encouraged to laugh at themselves as men are. In my head I succeed in making traumatic events funny but when I try to relate them verbally, I often fail or at least, the listener isn’t sure how to respond. How much of that is down to my sex and how much my storytelling, I don’t know. I’ve always found it frustrating that women should be pitied rather than ridiculed. The former is infinitely worse.
Like a lot of lonely kids I needed comedy. In primary school I took a long time to complete homework and because I performed so badly, I was given extra. I passed hours upon hours tearful in the corner of the living room, either struggling or wading through tedious repetitive work designed to imbed. If I was lucky, when it was over, I could watch comedy with my family and this was the best escapism.
I was utterly miserable at primary school. My mum hoped that the lines in the theme to the Raggydolls would be comforting (poorly animated UK cartoon about toys who live in a reject bin for substandard toys). “Doesn’t matter if you don’t fit in, look who’s in the reject bin. Raggydolls, Raggydolls…., made imperfectly….” It wasn’t comforting at all.
Even if I wanted the comparison to work, the ‘reject bin’ in my primary school included a boy who kept asking if my clothes came from ‘Oxfarm’ (sic)’, and a girl who smelled of stale urine and would go on to punch me in the face.
I would have run a mile about a serious drama about kids with dyslexia. However, tell me about the dyslexic pimp who bought a warehouse and I’m inclined to listen.
Without comedy, these experiences are nothing but a sob story and those are hard to build on, unless you want to spend your time listening to other sob stories in order to exchange them with your own. This happens online increasingly. To be the butt of a joke is much less harmful than the vortex of narcissism and victimhood that pervades social media.
In an oversensitive age I wonder what we are doing to ourselves. We run scared yet are loathe to say sorry. This paradox is where we find ourselves when we aim so squarely for righteousness. Righteousness and comedy do not mix.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. If I have to reflect, for Gods’ sake let what can be funny, be funny. Don't ever be afraid to try.
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