Maria Bamford's workplace trajectory

Given my tendency to reject those who accept me, this is the work pattern that I fight against to this day:

1. I cry in the bathroom at the impossibility or first sign that I am not good at my job (for example, upon hearing, "Did you forget to order creamer?" [receptionist], or, "Can you pace it up?" [voice-over gig]).

2. I start to see the flawed nature of my employers and the unethical moral quandaries of the job. There's a reason the animation is done in Korea! The labor is cheaper and not well-treated! There is hypocrisy in what I thought was beautiful! Now that I'm a part of it, it is BAD!

3. I start to "speak up" passive-aggressively (via comedy). At Nickelodeon, I made a satirical short film with myself and another production assistant killing off all of the Nickelodeon executives in a Masterpiece Theatre-style mystery.

4. I am well-liked but troubling to the people who have hired me. I do a good job, but those in charge sense my lack of respect. As with everything, once I am invited to be a part of it, it is BAD.

I was at Nickelodeon for one year and I was voted Employee of the Month the same month I got fired. After being fired, I won a voice-over role on their new series, CatDog. They gave me a severance of two months pay and with that, I was able to move to a nicer neighborhood, get a dog, and begin earning more from stand-up than from temping. But I would still do anything for cash. I've answered phones for comedy development executives right after having pitch meetings with them. I worked eight hours at NBC4 reception after doing The Tonight Show the night before. The weatherman walked by and said, "You were on Leno last night!" and kept walking. The gradual change into being a full-time performer took about as long as it took me to pay off my medical debt - eight years.

- Maria Bamford, Sure, I'll Join Your Cult, New York, 2023, p.146-7.

Comedy Festival 2025

Nish Kumar (Hannah Playhouse, 2 May) 

A compellingly bracing and impressively coherent ramble through progressive polemic rant with discursions into the power of lousy South Asian role models, how the world is beset with psychotic billionaires, his mum's feud with Camilla Parker-Bowles, how not to interview Boris Johnson, his comedic feud with Ricky Gervais, and how to manage one's mental health whilst actively discussing unprocessed rage on stage in front of complete strangers when one's friends have become millionaires by doing a podcast about how sandwiches are nice. Also the evening was triply impressive because Kumar responded to weather disruptions by performing not one, not two, but three shows in a single night.

Abby Howells (BATS, 9 May) 

An expertly-constructed and charmingly delivered set illustrating the thorough unsuitability of Tiny Tim as gig warmup music, the psychological traumas of Michael Jackson impersonators, Willy Wonka & the housing ladder, the perils of becoming Insta-famous, an update on the (presumably) lifelong feud with Wanaka Puzzleworld (sic.), the pitfalls of improv group vendettas and discount group therapy, not looking like a pervert on the bus, and breaking up with her ex- and finding the love of her life. (See also: Conan O'Brien, who met her for his NZ episode of his Conan O'Brien Must Go series, described Howells as 'without a doubt one of the funniest people I've met').

Ray O'Leary (Te Auaha, 22 May) 

Slow-talkin', tan-suited purveyor of droll observational comedy, touching on the potentially accurate effrontery of a woman who approached him on the street to thank him for being a good role model for autistic people despite him never having being diagnosed as having autism, being insufficiently unhealthy to qualify for Ozempic, the lack of security at New Zealand rest homes, how to use Borat impressions to lighten up bleak standup material, and coaxing audience members to work on their comedic timing in a ramshackle three-person, one-act sitcom reading.

What not to say in China

I soon found that my Mandarin was about the level of a toddler's. And looking Chinese enough in the face to be occasionally presumed a local, I must have given off the impression of being an enormous child, or some simple giant of lore. I saved myself from the worst embarrassments for the most part. At one dinner I checked with [his translator] Angela if my word for 'Miss' was correct for getting the waitress's attention. She was shocked by what I'd said. 'No, no, no, no, no! You must never say that!' I had come extremely close to shouting 'Oi! You old prostitute!" across the restaurant.

- Phil Wang, Sidesplitter, London, 2022

2023 Comedy Festival

It's been a bumper crop of comedy here in the capital for this year's comedy festival, and we've taken in four excellent performers from the British Isles, plus one winning local act.

Joe Lycett

Springboarding off his telly and internet fame, Lycett delivered a highly entertaining and well-crafted recap of his recent brushes with fame. Opening with scene-setting quips - describing his slightly prison-like striped boiler-suit as 'Guantanamo Gay' - Lycett provided plenty of evidence of his winning career as an impish, versatile multimedia star, including his deadpan riposte to demands that the BBC provide more airtime to conservative voices by simply claiming on Laura Kuenssberg's new BBC politics show that he was 'incredibly right wing', satirising both then-PM Liz Truss and the notion of mandatory balance in current affairs programmes. Plus there was the credulousness of then-minister Nadine Dorries, who took him at his word when he tweeted ironic messages of support to Boris Johnson. His many telly appearances were referenced, including Dancing With The Stars (a self-deprecating pratfall), Sewing Bee, Taskmaster and his own shows. The high-water marks of the show included an extended riff on his absurd and daftly entertaining campaign to get the Mayor of his hometown Birmingham to officially open his new kitchen extension (which she did, inexplicably), and the grand finale in which he detailed an intriguing and ultimately successful self-led five-year social engineering campaign in his local neighbourhood.

Ed Gamble 

A youthful Wellington crowd turned out for Gamble's first proper NZ comedy tour in the peculiar Shed 6 venue, which was ideal for the sadly defunct DCM bookfair but is less than ideal for standup comedy. His broad standup set encompassed a detailed riff on the mysteries of budget hotel continental breakfasts (a travelling comedian's mainstay), staging a solo surprise lockdown hen party for his wife in their house, and the intimidation of performing standup comedy in front of a heavy metal festival crowd who became fixated on his diabetes and demanded to see real, live blood. There was also a detour into the challenge of getting fit in London, with forays into the dynamics of a flawed spin class and how to cope with exercising at an East London 'big boy gym'.

Sara Pascoe   

Possibly Pascoe's first foray into NZ touring, she started her set by pointing out that she does know she's pregnant, thank you, and she would normally reveal that at the end of the performance, but that dramatic flourish was rather redundant now the baby is officially 'showing'. Her endearing and witty set addressed her grandiose teenage dreams of telly fame, a hilariously misjudged attempts to win over both Michael Barrymore and Geri Halliwell with her singing, and the curious nature of life in the entertainment business with a 'fame-adjacent' public profile. The trials of flying a toddler to the other side of the world - which many in the audience could no doubt relate to - rounded out a charming set.

Guy Montgomery

Fresh from his award-winning Australian tour and boosted by his highly amusing and definitely daggy game show, TV3's Guy Mont Spelling Bee, Montgomery's festival contribution was a mix of observational comedy, absurdist rambling and drug-referencing psychedelia. A genial presence throughout, Montgomery was at his best riffing on the guilty pleasures of taking horse tranquilisers (it's quite important to stroke the horses to sleep first so you don't feel guilty) or taking the venerable expression 'what's that got to do with the price of fish' for a lengthy excursion into dramatic theatre. He also shows his sweeter side in his material about his step-daughter and the unexpected joys of being a step-dad, including the self-deprecating lengths he goes to to gain the approval of his beloveds by traipsing through the rain in a chemically-altered state of mind to buy pajamas that he didn't particularly want in the first place.

Dylan Moran

The audience's nerves at what might have been a difficult performance, given what was reported at the previous show in the tour at Christchurch, were immediately dispelled by Moran at the outset, when he discussed the gig and confirmed, as many had suspected, that he was not inebriated at the gig, and the news reporting was completely overblown. Moran proceeded to prove that with a set as good as any of his many previous shows (c.f. my 2006 write-up for Scoop). He has a wonderful knack for slyly devastating putdowns that land with a feather-light touch given the audience knows his bleak worldview lacks all malice - it's equal opportunity lambasting. A detailed examination of the innate foolishness of all age groups, a lengthy riff on the ridiculousness of male genitalia, and the true secret of alcoholism all delighted the crowd. But for me the highlight was the surprising, and surprisingly listenable, foray into moderately-listenable free jazz keyboard playing and atonal jazz vocal performances, which, he related, led one Vienna audience member to howl an anguished 'noooooo...' at the commencement of the second half of his performance.  

See also:

Comedy: James Acaster, 14 May 2016
Comedy: Eddie Izzard, 15 February 2015
Comedy: Josie Long, 6 May 2013
Comedy: Stephen Merchant, Wellington, 17 December 2012
Comedy: Bill Bailey, Wellington, 29 September 2012
Comedy: David O'Doherty, 5 May 2012
Comedy: Ed Byrne / Steve Coogan, 17 May 2009
Comedy: Bill Bailey, 3 July 2008

“Well, I lost half a day of skiing”

Everyone loves a good low-stakes put-up-yer-dukes between self-absorbed silly people, and this one is the best example since the immortal 2022 "Wagatha Christie" trial. Marina Hyde has the measure of this utterly inconsequential event:

Before we go any further I want to make a deeply serious point. Something happened that day. Something happened on that mountain in that luxury ski resort, up there in God’s cathedral – and, like anyone who has watched either the plaintiff or the defendant on the stand at any length … I literally could not care less what it was. I mean, this is as low stakes as it gets. Asked about what had been taken from her by the events on the Deer Valley slopes, [Gwyneth] Paltrow delivered the sociopathically straight-to-meme line: “Well, I lost half a day of skiing.” (Bear in mind this is a woman who claims that water has feelings.) For his part, Terry Sanderson’s lawyer put things into perspective by declaring: “After the crash, he’s no longer charming.” [...]

First, a reminder that Mr Sanderson is seeking $300,000 in damages, which – to us country mice on this side of the Atlantic – feels a little eye-catching. Of course, we only have an outsider’s grasp of the baroque flourishes of the US legal system, but it is surely our understanding that any citizen of that great nation making some kind of personal injury claim understands that this is America, and asks for at least $30m just as a point of principle? Then again, having watched him, I think I’m on the verge of understanding why Mr Sanderson values his lost charm at a mere $300,000.

- Marina Hyde, 'Did Gwyneth Paltrow ski into a retired optometrist? I couldn’t care less, but the farce is unmissable', Guardian, 28 March 2023

The perils of being an opinionated unpaid teenage film reviewer

Because the space for actual writing was at the mercy of advertisers, the paper regularly chopped the last paragraph off my column and called it editing. Brutal. 

It was a review of The Preacher's Wife, starring Denzel Washington and Whitney Houston, that got me fired. FIRED! I wrote quite a scathing review of Ms Houston, confident that she wouldn't be passing through Jarrow any time soon to see it. The film was awful, she was awful; I was funny about it but I was also awful. The editor, who I'd never met, wrote me a damning letter. He said my 'vitriolic diatribe' against the lead actor meant that I would not 'attract a fee' for this review. Neither would he be printing it. Firstly, I looked up both 'vitriolic' and 'diatribe' in my dictionary. Then I replied that none of my reviews attracted a fee and that he should know that. I suggested he try 'editing, for that is your job' and told him that, as I would not change my opinion, he was free to take it or leave it. He left it. And asked for my press pass to be sent back to him immediately. I cut it up into tiny bits and posted it back so he'd have to piece it together to see what it was. He was clearly a MASSIVE Whitney fan. Me too - just not in that piece of shit.

- Sarah Millican, How to be Champion, London, 2017, p.70

The American porch visit shines with civility

Porch society is described by Gaylord Gibbon in his Etiquette Along the Mississippi (p. 28), a book not found in our house but it applied to us anyway:

The backyard is for privacy. Only people walking in the alley will bother you, and they're the sort who would anyway. The porch is sociable, but certain rules apply:

• Even if you're screened from public view, it's polite to call out hello to passers-by you know. It's up to them to stop or not. It's up to you to invite them in or not. The porch is a room of your house, not part of the yard. Only peddlers or certain ministers would barge right in. 
• If you say, "Why don't you come up and sit for a bit?," it is customary for them to decline politely. If the invite was legit, it should then be repeated. 
• An invite to the porch is not an invite to the house. Its terms are limited to a brief visit on the porch, no refreshments necessarily provided unless the occupants have such at hand.
• When the host stands up and stretches or says, "Well --," the visitor should need no further signal that the visit has ended. Only an oaf would remain longer. If the host says, "You don't have to run, do you?," this is not a question but a pleasantry.

Humankind knows no finer amenity than the screened porch. It is the temple of family life, and the sacred preserve of the luxurious custom known as "visiting." Compare it to the barbarity of the "business lunch," the hideous conversational burden of the cocktail party, and the prison that is the formal dinner, the porch visit shines with civility.

- Garrison Keillor, Lake Wobegon Days, New York, 1985, p.131-2.

See also:

Blog: The importance of movies to Gopher Prairie, 6 October 2022    

Blog: The presidential art of handshaking, 18 August 2018 

Blog: A legal genius at work, 11 March 2013

How to swallow a pill

Decidedly chuffed this week because a great UK comedy podcast I listen to, Nobody Panic, has done an episode based on a suggestion I sent in: How To Swallow a Pill. Personally I'm hopeless at swallowing pills, and Tessa, one of the two hosts, had mentioned that she's the same a while back. I hasten to add that this podcast is the *exact opposite* of medically qualified advice! The scene is deftly set when Tessa, introducing her pill-based affliction, also mentions to her compatriot Stevie that she's "also never had a coffee" and then NEVER MENTIONS IT AGAIN. Highly entertaining medication-centric chatter, and there's the added bonus of a wild story about Tessa's mum's submarine iPhone, plus Tessa's valiant attempt at a NZ accent. 

(For guidance on the tricky NZ accent, consult Flight of the Conchords or that episode of Taskmaster when Rose Matafeo was mocked ruthlessly for pronouncing shed as 'shid'. It's not our fault, we're a long way away from everything & our vowels have slid around a bit).

Nobody Panic - How to Swallow a Pill (podcast, 31 mins)

Querida Becky, soy yo, tu mama muerta

Followers of Rose Matafeo's excellent Starstruck sitcom would do well to consider the work of her onscreen and formerly IRL flatmate, actor-comedian Emma Sidi. In particular, her brilliant 2020 short film La Princesa De Woking, a note-perfect homage to Mexican telenovelas set in glamorous northwest Surrey. Sidi stars as the much-put-upon and never-knowingly-out-acted Becky Hello, who has just tragically lost her mother in a freak chandelier accident: 

Elsewhere, you might find her in 2017 exercising some Spanish melodrama in Melbourne, or illustrating her formidable contemporary dance skills in 2015. And perhaps in the 'sketch project with Rose' she mentions in her February interview above, that might emerge some day soon. 

See also:

Comedy: Bill Bailey, 25 October 2016 

Comedy: James Acaster, 14 May 2016

Comedy: Josie Long, 6 May 2013

Comedy: David O'Doherty, 5 May 2012

Comedy: Dylan Moran, 23 April 2006

Hodgman on hitchhiking

I have picked up hitchhikers twice in my life, both in Maine. The first time was a young couple who flagged us down as we were driving the loop road in Acadia National Park. They had gotten lost hiking and were looking for a ride back to the parking lot. 

When they got in the car they said, 'Are you John Hodgman?'

'Yes', I said.

'Oh, wow,' they said, 'we are huge fans of your podcast'.

I said, 'This must be very surprising for you'.

'It is!' they said.

'What makes it even stranger,' I said, 'is that usually it's the hitchhikers who end up murdering the driver. And not the other way around, like this time!'

It was just another example of the wit and wisdom of me at my finest. I didn't murder them. We met up later in Brooklyn, because of course that is where they live.

- John Hodgman, Vacationland: True Stories from Painful Beaches, New York, 2017, p.199-200.

Warmest greetings to the Bishop of Los Angeles

'Fred Astaire is a pixie ... with a Lefty Flynn-type penchant for schoolboy jokes - so when one day a voice on the telephone said, "Good morning, I am the Bishop of Los Angeles," I replied knowingly, "And I am the Mother Superior - how's your cock?"

A quick intake of breath followed by a longish pause alerted me to the fact that it was not Fred. When the Bishop had recovered from this unaccustomed greeting, he told me what was on his mind.

"We have a Convention of several thousand Anglican clergy coming to Los Angeles from all over the world, we are holding a service in the Hollywood Bowl and we would be very happy if you would read the Second Lesson"'

- David Niven, The Moon's A Balloon, 1971, p.291. 

Why so many of us are single

The Sovereign is not sovereign

Hugh Dennis channels Sir Humphrey in this excerpt from the Now Show, imagining a civil service wallah explaining Brexit implementation to the PM:

HD: It's quite simple, Prime Minister. Judges do not make the law; the Government makes laws which the judges then enact.

PM: So why do I have to go through Parliament?

HD: Because Parliament passed a law made by the Government which says that we are subject to European law. Therefore the Government must first go to Parliament to trigger an article which would make us no longer subject to the European law that a previous Government had proposed and Parliament previously voted that we should be governed by.

PM: But the people voted not to be governed by it.

HD: Ah, but in order to enact the people's vote not to be governed by law that Parliament had voted we would be governed by, you must involve Parliament. In other words, although we're governed by Government, the Government governs by enacting laws passed by Parliament, and what you're trying to do is govern by Government and going through the Sovereign, forgetting that Parliament is sovereign, and the Sovereign is not sovereign. It is really very simple.

- The Now Show, BBC Radio 4, 11 November 2016

Bill Bailey - Larks in Transit

Michael Fowler Centre, 24 October 2016

Bill Bailey - Larks in Transit
Michael Fowler Centre
Wellington
24 October 2016

It's only two years since Bill Bailey performed in Wellington, and this time he's filling the Michael Fowler Centre twice over, which only goes to show that the star of many wonderful TV programmes that are largely ignored by networks here has a massive and eager audience in New Zealand. If anything, Larks in Transit felt like a more coherent and all-around entertaining show than his last, Limboland, while exhibiting the tried and tested structure. Parodic musical silliness, self-deprecating anecdotes and helpless rants at the unfairness of the world are Bailey's forte, and he excels in all of them. 

This show featured a strong selection of signature musical outings, variations on themes he's covered often before but still highly entertaining: death metal covers of Abba's Dancing Queen, crowd participation to build a sampled orchestral opus, effortless diversions into Beethoven's Für Elise as a bridging device, and propulsive Irish mandolin reels to celebrate Celtic rock excess. In poking fun at himself, Bailey set high standards with a hilarious and hopefully exaggerated tale of meeting rock idol Paul McCartney backstage after a gig and the encounter proceeding from awkward to borderline disastrous; Bailey is adept at the physical comedy, becoming a convincingly twitching, gurning wreck of a fanboy. And as for ranting, Bailey has plenty to decry in the shambolic politics of Brexit Britain ('that calamitous act of self-harm'), mis-governed, directionless and awash in social media flamewars. Cheerful stuff, but Bailey always steers towards absurdity rather than helpless angst - ultimately, he'll always be an optimist. Here's hoping he continues to return to this far corner of the world.

See also:

Comedy: Bill Bailey - Limboland, 2 November 2014

Comedy: Bill Bailey - Qualmpeddler, 29 September 2012

Interview: Kim Hill with Bill Bailey, 22 October 2016

'Whether or not I pay income tax is none of the government's business'

The good citizens of Pawnee, Indiana (in local government sitcom Parks & Recreation) express their firmly held and not-at-all-contradictory views in public forums, displaying the majesty of an informed electorate.

'What am I going to do with my kids all day - keep them in my house? Where I live?'

Frankie Boyle on America's most important decision

I think this is not so much an election and more of a competition to find the second worst person in the world.  It's maybe the most important decision in 50 years, maybe since the war, and I don't know about you, but anytime there's a really important decision I often think, 'I hope no Americans are involved in taking this decision.  I hope no-one from a country that made seven Fast & the Furious movies... I hope no-one that finds James Corden funny is involved in this decision'.

- Frankie Boyle, News Quiz, BBC Radio 4, 30 September 2016

See also:
Comedy: Boyle on Trump, 7 June 2016
Comedy: The economics of the Fringe, 16 August 2012
Blog: Mock the Week, 20 February 2010

Boyle on Trump

I sort of admire Trump in a way. Initially I thought that Trump was like somebody playing a president in a porno, and as it's gone along he's kind of aged and now he looks like someone robbing a back wearing a rubber mask of his own face. And the incredible thing about him is that he's managed to run a fear campaign and it's worked on a country of people who are on anti-anxiety medication. They're heavily drugged people and [yet] he's managed to scare them. I actually think his weird facial colour might be an attempt to cut through their fog of medication and register on their senses, because he's sort of getting brighter. Hillary Clinton is wearing brighter, blocky kind of colours as well. That's why it's called the primaries.

- Frankie Boyle, The News Quiz, BBC Radio 4, 3 June 2016

James Acaster

James Acaster

James Acaster: 'Reset'

San Francisco Bath House

Cuba St, Wellington

12 May 2016

James Acaster, arguably the most praying mantis-like English comedian at work today, is enjoying a run of comedy festival gigs around New Zealand at the moment, testing his new 2016 show out on local comedy festival audiences before taking it to home turf later this year. It’s a good opportunity to give new material a trial run with a relatively similar audience, give or take, and for New Zealand comedy fans it’s a great chance to see one of the UK’s most popular young comedians at close quarters. (To be specific, from the front row at Wellington’s San Fran venue he was five metres away. Good thing he’s not a spitter).

Without going into too many routine-spoiling details, Acaster's show is definitely a winner, showcasing his appealing brand of whimsy and self-loathing in a show that feels pretty much complete and ready. It's great to see a comedian perfecting their timing, working in callbacks for the audience, responding to tiny mistakes (such as Acaster's lengthy multi-generational tangent to explain his use of the phrase 'you look at yourself in the kitchen mirror'), and in particular, generally fiddling about with the idea of an imperfect person standing on a stage being paid to make an audience laugh. Good standup comedy is always improved by a dash of acting skill, which helps Acaster flirt with the downcast notion that comedians might actually not be enjoying their work. The idea that delivering standup comedy for a living is meant to make everything wonderful has a great deal of comedic potential - the trick, which Acaster has mastered, is to make that exploration funny, so you're both testing what can be achieved on stage while at the same time keeping the audience entertained.

Don't get me wrong, Acaster's new show isn't a Scandinavian gloomfest - he just teases the audience with Hancock-style misery amidst all the silliness, and it makes the show a great deal more appealing. There's plenty of Milton Jones absurdism, done with the same charm and flair: a discourse on the brilliance of being on witness protection programmes ("James, you really have to stop mentioning the programme in your act, you need to work with us on this one"), a brilliant and flawless scheme taking advantage of supermarket loss-leaders, the injustice of volunteering to dig wells in Kenya when the good people of England and New Zealand could walk hundreds of miles without seeing one, and a searching exploration of why the English hate themselves so comprehensively. An extended discourse on the English tradition of wandering the globe nicking treasures and then not giving them back receives an expert analysis ("But the Elgin Marbles are so much better lit here than when you had them!"). All capped off with a big musical finale, David O'Doherty style, which was suitably daft but may well have been slightly lost on the deaf audience members experiencing the act through the game sign language interpreters at the front of the stage.

A few smaller parts of the act based on local observations will I presume not feature when Acaster takes the material back to England, such as his delight, expounded on at length, of the New Zealand phrase 'boil the jug' (instead of 'put the kettle on'), which gives Acaster the opportunity to try out his ropey New Zealand accent. (Most English comedians think they've got it, but too many episodes of Home & Away queer the pitch).

See also:

Comedy: Ed Byrne, 1 May 2015

Comedy: Josie Long, 6 May 2013

Comedy: David O'Doherty, 5 May 2012

The merest pittance for Muriel Bromborough

'Oh, Brancepeth,' said the girl, her voice trembling, 'why haven't you money? If only you had the merest pittance - enough for a flat in Mayfair and a couple of good cars and a villa in the South of France and a bit of trout fishing on some decent river, I would risk all for love. But as it is...'

- P.G. Wodehouse, 'Buried Treasure', in Weekend Wodehouse, 1939.

See also:
Comedy: Knuts & spats, 17 August 2013
Comedy: Wodehouse in Hollywood, 12 February 2013
Comedy: The fine art of stage direction in musical comedies, 15 February 2012

"I'll make love to you in my minivan"

From the Late Late Show, here's Bryan Cranston with regulars James Corden & Reggie Watts singing about what happens when a boyband still wants to make sweet lurve to you, but also has a mortgage and a retirement plan to worry about.