Comedy

Thursday

Roger Lewis

Paul Merton’s is the most boastful autobiography in years

Has there ever been a nun or a priest who wasn’t a bent sadist? Because here we go again. At school Paul Merton was terrorised by a nun who, in her black outfit with a white band, ‘looked like an angry pint of Guinness’. She walloped the future comedian if ever she detected an imaginative strain in his English compositions. ‘You can’t write about things that aren’t true,’ asserted this believer in the actuality of virgin births and rising from the dead. For stating that Beethoven invented rice pudding and Mozart baked the first crème brûlée, Merton was told he’d ‘poisoned the minds of your classmates with your ridiculous stories’. Of course, Merton has been poisoning and entertaining us ever since.

Thursday

The Spectator

Spectator letters: Scottish Tories, ambulances and Florence Nightingale

The other Tory split Sir: With regard to the article by James Forsyth (‘The great Tory split’, 6 September), there is another dimension to the future of the Conservative party of which the Scottish independence vote is symbolic. The Conservative and Unionist party looks as though it lacks the leadership and the political skills to keep the Union together, certainly to make a convincing job of it. Whichever way the vote goes, it will not reflect well on the Conservative leadership. They are seen as part of an ‘out of touch’ Westminster elite which has neglected not just Scotland but much of England, becoming a party of the south-east rather than a genuinely national/UK wide party; what is more they do not seem even to mind that this is the case.

Thursday

Igor Toronyi-Lalic

Joan Rivers (1933 – 2014) was the best

Joan Rivers has died from complications resulting from throat surgery. She was 81. For many, she was the best. The funniest, sharpest, most mischievous comic we will ever know. And though she'd hate us for saying it, she was also a true feminist pioneer. Well before it had been settled whether women should be doing stand-up at all, she was not only doing it but shaping it - and subtly shaping society too. Her early routines, like the following 1967 set from the Ed Sullivan show about how crappy the female experience could be, were laying the ground for political feminism: But her radicalism was restless. And when the political tides turned, so did she.

Thursday

The Spectator

Podcast: Britain’s ambulance crisis, Cameron’s European way and the cultural generation gap

999, what’s your emergency? This time, it’s one right at the heart of the ambulance service, as Mary Wakefield reveals in this week’s Spectator. Paramedics are fleeing and needless calls are mounting. But why is the government refusing to take notice? And why are paramedics being denied the respect they deserve? Mary discusses her findings in this week’s podcast with Fraser Nelson and Julia Manning, chief executive of 2020Health. The Prime Minister heads off on Saturday to Brussels for one of his least favourite events: the European Union summit. In her column, Isabel Hardman suggests that EU summits haven’t been kind to Cameron, and that things aren’t about to change. But can he find his ‘European way’?

James Delingpole

Frankie Boyle is a cowardly bully, and I’m ashamed I ever stood up for him

‘Outspoken comic Frankie Boyle has called on the BBC to sack “cultural tumour” Jeremy Clarkson.’ Can anyone tell me what’s wrong with this opening sentence from a recent news report? Clue: it’s that first word. In order to qualify as ‘outspoken’, surely, you need to be the kind of person who fearlessly, frequently and vociferously sets himself in opposition to the clamour of the times. Does demanding that a public figure lose his job for some mildly sexist/racist/homophobic/ableist remark fit into that category? Hardly.

Mark Mason

Switching on to a new generation gap

[audioplayer src="http://traffic.libsyn.com/spectator/TheViewFrom22_28_August_2014_v4.mp3" title="Mark Mason and Alex Owen discuss the cultural generation gap" startat=1603] Listen [/audioplayer]I was recently talking to an intelligent 24-year-old Cambridge graduate. The conversation turned to TV comedy, and I mentioned Vic Reeves. The graduate had never heard of him. Nor had she heard of Bob Mortimer. This would have surprised me, but it’s happening a lot. Not Vic’n’Bob specifically — anyone who was on TV more than five minutes ago. We now have the first generation to be culturally cut off from its elders.

Friday

Daisy Dunn

Cringe at the Fringe: are these really the ten funniest jokes from Edinburgh?

According to a poll, the funniest one-liner at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe was a joke about a vacuum cleaner: ‘I’ve decided to sell my hoover… well, it was just collecting dust’. Tim Vine, the man responsible for this curious bit of word play, said he was surprised to have won the coveted award. Presumably he hadn’t seen the rest of the top ten jokes, which ranged from cliché (‘I wanted to do a show about feminism. But my husband wouldn’t let me’) to stereotyping (‘Scotland had oil, but it’s running out thanks to all that deep frying’) and risky (‘Always leave them wanting more, my uncle used to say to me. Which is why he lost his job in disaster relief’).

Thursday

Lloyd Evans

Alex Salmond has already lost — if the Edinburgh Festival is anything to go by

Scotland’s on a knife-edge. Like all referendum-watchers at the Edinburgh Festival I grabbed a ticket for The Pitiless Storm, a drama about independence, which attracts big crowds every lunchtime at the Assembly Rooms. The play draws its inspiration from the passion and fury of Red Clydeside. David Hayman, an actor and lifelong leftie, plays a Glaswegian trade unionist who reflects on the troubles of Scottish socialism as the referendum approaches. Some of his rhetoric captures the best of the independence movement. ‘We’re not leaving the union, we’re joining the world.’ And he flavours his optimism with a dash of local irony.

Tanya Gold

Rhubarb has the loveliest, craziest dining room I have ever seen

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival: the city is full of glassy-eyed narcissists eating haggis pizza off flyers that say Michael Gove: Prick. I saw the Grim Reaper in the Pleasance Courtyard, of all places. Even Death likes an audience these days, has a media strategy, an agent, a gimmick. But this is not a review of comics — mating habits and most likely mental illnesses or ‘conditions’, plus hats — disguised as a review of the food that comics eat. All comics are mad. You know this. They live on self-hatred and Smarties, when they can afford them. Instead, I go to Rhubarb. Rhubarb is the sister restaurant to the Witchery by the Castle on the Royal Mile.

Lloyd Evans

An innocent graduate of Operation Yewtree, Jim Davidson, dazzles in Edinburgh

Let’s start with a nightmare. Wendy Wason, an Edinburgh comedienne, travelled to LA last year accompanied by her husband, who promptly succumbed to a fainting fit. Wason called an ambulance, unaware she was in a hospital car park, and was handed an £8,000 bill to cover the 15-yard trip. By the time her husband had been cured, the invoice had risen fivefold. As comedy Wason’s show (at the Gilded Balloon) is wry, downbeat and hilarious. It also has a Wider Purpose. She believes that US-style healthcare is about to engulf Britain and she wants us to help her save the NHS. Always a dilemma, I find, when stand-ups dabble in politics. Is the comic promoting the cause, or the cause the comic?

Thursday

William Cook

Robin Williams in London

In 2001 I wrote a book called The Comedy Store (still available in some good bookshops – and quite a lot of bad ones) about the London comedy club that kick-started modern British comedy. The book was a bit of a mixed bag, but the best bits were where I shut up and let these comics talk about each other. And the comic they talked about most of all was Robin Williams. Their tales of seeing him perform for the sheer love of it, in front a few hundred tipsy punters, show what a great comic we’ve all lost. Robin Williams first played the Comedy Store in 1980, on a trip to London to dub the voice-over for Robert Altman's Popeye. The compere that evening was Alexei Sayle.

Thursday

Matthew Stadlen

John Bishop interview: ‘My dream was to be Steven Gerrard, but he got there first’

John Bishop doesn’t just tell funny stories. He also tells the sort of life story that makes you sit up and listen. He grew up on a council estate outside Liverpool and, at the age of six, visited his father in prison. By the time he was in his mid-thirties he was working in middle management at a pharmaceutical company, had three children and was going through a divorce. Today he sells out 15,000-seat arenas, is still married to his wife and no longer works in middle management. It was a Monday night and Bishop was looking for something to do. His friends were tired of him ‘crying into his beer’ about his divorce. So, aged 34, he decided to visit a comedy club for only the third time in his life.

Monday

Igor Toronyi-Lalic

The best of Rik Mayall (1958 – 2014), master of the grotesque

Sad news reaches us at Culture House that Rik Mayall, one of the mainstays of my TV-addicted teenage years, has died at the age of 56. A virtuoso of all that was most grotesque and loathsome in man, Mayall made his name leading memorably in a number of game-changing sitcoms, including Channel 4's the Comic Strip Presents..., ITV's The New Statesman and BBC Two's The Young Ones and Bottom. The delight with Mayall was that the more odious his characters became the more mesmerising he got. Here are some highlights: 1. Richie, Bottom A lot of people didn't get Bottom. I loved it. It was like a cross between Beckett and Feydeau. And well before I knew who either Beckett or Feydeau were, its sweaty nihilism worked a treat on me. It still does: 2.

Thursday

Lucy Vickery

Michael Craig-Martin pokes a giant yellow pitchfork at the ordinary

Visitors to Chatsworth House this spring might wonder if they have stumbled through the looking-glass. The estate’s rolling parkland has been invaded by an army of vibrantly coloured, outsized garden tools, whose outlines seem to hover, mirage-like, over the landscape. These painted-steel 2D ‘sculptures of drawings’ are the brainchildren of the conceptual artist Michael Craig-Martin. Craig-Martin finds poetry in the everyday and here he has taken 12 commonplace objects — a wheelbarrow; a spade; a lightbulb — and transformed them into something extraordinary. He also believes that context is everything when it comes to art and the works have been carefully positioned.

Kate Chisholm

Radio that makes you feel the wind on your cheek

After a walk in Richmond Park beset by rush-hour traffic, the Heathrow flight path and a strange swarm of flying ants (strange because so early in the year), it was unsettling to come back in and switch on and listen to Kirsty Gunn’s spring walk for this week’s The Essay on Radio 3 (which I heard as a preview but you can now catch on iPlayer). Gunn lives in Sutherland in the far north of Scotland close to the River Brora, and has a view from her back windows that stretches for 500 square miles with no other house or sign of human life in sight. ‘There’s nothing out there,’ Gunn told us, ‘except space and emptiness, light and land — and the weather.

Monday

Steerpike

Monty Python’s dancing circus

For those who are worried that five men in their 70s might struggle to bring the kind of energy befitting a sell-out show at the O2, have no fear. The Pythons have commissioned some ‘lovely dancers’ to give the show a little extra pizazz. When Mr S asked Michael Palin how rehearsals were going, he said they haven’t started yet for fear that the old timers might ‘peak too early’. ‘But we’ve got lovely dancers and lots happening on the screen - lots of glitter and dazzle - so it won’t be just old guys trying to get into costumes we fitted into 50 years ago.’ The dancers will also be taking the audience’s attention away from the fact that the Pythons aren’t as supple as they used to be.

Thursday

Rod Liddle

The BBC is more scared of offending Muslims than gay people

Just to ring the changes, I’ve written about the BBC and political correctness for the mag this week. Yeah, yeah, I know – you haven’t heard enough about that subject. But one of the writers of the 1970s situation comedy It Ain’t Half Hot, Mum has complained that aunty isn’t showing the series any more as a consequence of political correctness. My suspicion is that it isn’t being reshown because it was humourless unmitigated crap, but there we are. The bigger issue, though, is the one raised by the excellent (for a Blairite) Dan Hodges. As it happens, I was invited onto this show and now wish I had accepted. The irony of it all seems entirely lost on the BBC. Thank god they’re going to get rid of the channel entirely.

Ben Hamilton

The talent and tragedy of Richard Pryor

The troubles of Richard Pryor’s life are well known — from his childhood in a brothel to his self-immolation via crack pipe — but arranged in a biography their impact is renewed. So grotesque was his upbringing that an early encounter with a dead baby in a shoebox warrants but a single sentence in David Henry’s and Joe Henry’s addictive, frenzied book (Furious Cool, Algonquin Books,£17.99, Spectator Bookshop, £16.19). The authors are fans who have the tendency to swoon, and they hold back from condemning Pryor’s numerous wrong turns (he was a serial wife-beater who fled responsibility wherever he found it). But that hardly matters when there’s so much to pack in.

Thursday

Roger Lewis

The harrowing, inspiring life of Andrew Sachs

Comedians always like to claim that they started making jokes after childhoods made harsh by poverty; that at a formative age they were tormented by appalling cruelty and neglect. Griff Rhys Jones had to leave Wales at the age of six days, for instance. Nevertheless, the Chaplin family could afford a maid in Kennington. The Leeds of Alan Bennett and the Morecambe of Victoria Wood always sound cosy — as does the Hadley Wood of Eric Morecambe; and there was not much wrong with Barry Humphries’s salubrious Melbourne, though I concede it has been knocked flat by ‘developers’ since. But with Andrew Sachs the horrors were very real. Aged eight, ‘I stood open-mouthed as a number of men, wielding wooden clubs, shattered the front of a shoe shop.

Wednesday

Freddy Gray

Isn’t Obama’s Two Ferns interview just a bit crap?

Have you seen Barack Obama's appearance on the satirical interview show Between Two Ferns? What did you think? According to some pundits, it is amazingly funny. Obama is the 'best Between Two Ferns guest ever', says Oliver Franklin at GQ. I must be missing something, because I found it painful and somewhat depressing. There a couple of quite good moments, granted - such as when Obama is busy plugging Affordable Healthcare and the host, Zach Galifianakis, says 'Is this what they mean by drones?' - but the rest is just a bit crap. It is weirdly off, too. At times Obama, trying to be dead pan, just seems to miss the point, and in some moments it looks as if he is having a sense of humour failure. I do get that the key to Two Ferns is that it is awkward.