Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Female Comedienne FAQs

What's it like being a woman in comedy?

To be honest, it's a hard question to answer because I've never been a man in comedy.

The easiest way to describe being a woman in comedy is like, imagine a woman... now imagine she has a job. Yeah. It's like that.

Why do you think there are fewer female comedians?

They die very young. A lot of them die as babies. My guess is, pretty much every woman that dies before their natural time in old age, was going to be a female comedian and then just died so couldn't be.

Do you think it's harder for women in comedy?

Yeah it can be, for example the gig might be really near to the house of one of the male comedians but a 4 hour train ride for the woman, and then it's really much, much harder for the female comic.

Or, she might have truly awful jokes and no persona whatsoever and then it's practically impossible to succeed. It can be very tough.

What female comedians inspire you?

You know what, it's so hard to choose. I once saw Angela Barnes find out she'd had her skirt tucked in her knickers as she walked through the gig and she got over that really quickly and so that was pretty inspirational. She really just, moved on as though it was no big deal and carried on with her life. To be honest though, that's probably as inspired as I've been by a female comic... usually I'm just laughing at them. Because they're more funny than inspiring. I think maybe if Tiff Stevenson cures cancer or Katherine Ryan invents a new musical instrument I might feel inspired a bit more. Lazy bitches.

I'm a big fan of Tim Minchin, I know he's not technically a comedienne but sometimes he breaks all the rules and says things that relate to both genders which I think is just groundbreaking.

Did you always know you wanted to be a comedienne?

No, when I was a childess there were quite a lot of jobs I considered. I remember seeing the male Prime Minister John Major on the TV and thinking he had quite a cool job; I might like to do that. And I had lots of teachers and teachelles when I was youngerette that I thought were really inspiring to my young female mind, so I considered doing that.

I suppose I was always quite female funny when I was youngerette and I had quite a talent for female writing so it was a natural progression into performing comedyenne.

My female mum and my male dad are really supportive and so is my male boyfriend who I do quite a lot of girl writingling and boy writing with. I feel like I've really been able to make comedyenne a part of my lady life and build a lady life around it rather than in spite of it.

Other jobs I considered but rejected include:

Male comedian
Female everything else

Monday, February 3, 2014

Not With Adam Sandler

I've changed my mind. There's a God. You know how I know? Because there's a Devil. He's real. And he's sitting inside my hob clicking. CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK. 4 days now. 4 days of endless clicking. WHY ARE YOU CLICKING? Hmmmm? Do you want something? YOU'RE A HOB! WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT?! I use you. I clean you. You've never clicked before even when we wanted you to. THAT'S WHY WE OWN FOUR GAS LIGHTERS - BECAUSE. YOU. HAVE. NEVER. WORKED. Until now... click... click... click... click...

I have learnt in the last four days that the following artists do not go well with the constant, metronomical clicking of a headstrong hob: Bob Dylan, Carly Simon, The Black Keys, Matchbox 20 and The Rolling Stones. What I've proved quite effectively is that none of these musical talents would have been improved by the addition of an anally retentive triangle player who couldn't find a triangle and is therefore just clicking a hob clicker.

Ah, you tiny Devil. Small enough that you've climbed into the hob to bully me. I didn't see this coming. Of course you'd go for the hob; take out the kitchen. Usually my perfect refuge from the world where I can bake so I am happy and then feed the results to my boyfriend so he is happy. Not any more though. No. Gone. Gone is my paradise, to be replaced with a limbo, if limbo is a place where people with limited imagination and wrist mobility go to learn maracas.

I have written you a poem, hob, because you have become more deeply entrenched in my soul than any beau I could hope to encounter or melody that could permeate my ears.

Stop clicking,
Or I'll hit you with shoes until you bleed human blood.
Stop clicking,
Or I'll make plasticine penises and stick them all over you and bring people round to show them my hobnobs.
You will be mortified.
Stop clicking,
Or I will tear out every one of your sarcastically clicking rings and fill them with shit.
Yes, I realise this will just leave me with a shitty, clicking hob... but I will do it because I am desperate.
Stop clicking. Stop clicking.
See me standing on one leg?
Stop clicking.

I can hear the clicking in every one of the 3 rooms that barely make up my house. You know what this clicking has done? Made me realise how small my house is that I cannot get far enough away from the clicking to stop crying long enough to put mascara on.

Stop clicking.

I can't remember a time without clicking. I feel like one of those people who can't remember a time when everything wasn't clicking; you know, those people who swear things have always clicked. And then other people are like, "Ooh, no dear, back in my day things didn't click. And we didn't have sex either." And then the people like me say, "Haha, don't be silly, I CAN'T HAVE SEX BECAUSE THE CLICKING WON'T STOP SO ONCE WE START GETTING INTO IT, IT SOUND LIKE ONE OF US IS HEADING FAST TOWARDS A HIP REPLACEMENT."

Please stop clicking.