Opinion: TV comedy isn’t funny anymore.

Clare Williams on why she prefers her comedy on the stage, not the box.

Anyone ever noticed how all Britain’s top current comedians are observational? That satire has been relegated to lazy panel shows filled with tired hacks, and that surrealism is now an ex-parrot too?

A list of Britain’s highest-earning comedians (both stand-ups and panel-fillers) compiled by The Sun last year was largely made up of acts who cover mainstream, telly-friendly subjects and present them in a observational manner. Jason Manford, John Bishop and Michael McIntyre, perhaps the best-known of the current crop of entertainers, all feature high on the list. It’s hard to find three more family-friendly (bar the odd ‘fuck’ and slipping in some innuendo) comics about. McIntyre, perhaps the largest success story of comedy in recent years, has been reviewed favourably for his ‘comedy that everyone can relate to’, which is reflected in the ‘diversity of his audience’ at shows.

But surely having all these comedians appealing to the same people with the same topics must be boring? That’s where the entertainer’s personality comes through. Take Russells Kane and Howard. Both are young, enthusiastic performers who make their acts personal by talking about family. But where’s the difference? Kane appears to rely on his sharp wit and slightly camp physical comedy, whereas Howard prefers to drift along with gentle whimsy. They appear to have their own method of presenting their act, which feels familiar. One wonders if the reason comedy was branded ‘the new rock ‘n’ roll’ was because, like rock ‘n’ roll, the performers relied less on their content and more on the spectacle.

The same idea of personality over routine applies to those comedians who perform standard observational, but through the eyes of a character. Perhaps this is a more difficult form of comedy since it involves acting as well as making the buggers laugh. Sacha Baron Cohen, the biggest earner on The Sun’s list, is only there for his writing and performances as Ali G, Borat and Bruno. The phenomenal success of Al Murray’s The Pub Landlord is another example of such a character. But that’s all they are. Characters. No one in their right mind would suggest that Ali G and the like are anything other than an extended stereotype that we all know so well from personal experience and the media. That’s where the humour comes from – seeing their observations played out for us, and we can feel free to laugh at their outlook on life because it’s not a ‘real’ person’s view.

There is of course another side to this: the practical element of comedy. Firstly, it is well-known that a performer will only get on telly if their material is sufficiently ‘bankable’, i.e.: will return a regular and adequate number of viewers and generate few complaints. And what do TV executives think appeals to everyone? Mainstream observational humour that is family-friendly. One could argue that the reason we see so many observational comics on TV is because execs are cherry-picking those who are most likely to be a hit with audiences; or that it is the performers who are changing their acts into what the broadcasters will show. It is also more appealing to be uncontroversial in one’s opinions and observations, as proven by the crashing falls of Brand & Ross. The example of Frankie Boyle’s ‘Tramadol Nights’ is also evidence that even when hired as the archetypal rude bastard, there is a near-invisible line between being the face of edgy humour and the nation calling you a cunt.

For comedy which isn’t a posh man telling you what he keeps in his ‘man-drawer’, one must turn to the live circuit. It’s entirely possible to see comedians with varying acts, just not at home. However, the large tours which reach the largest audience are still the same people crowding the telly with their repetitive observations. Unlike seeing a band, where one can listen to mp3s beforehand and judge, there’s always an element of risk with going to see unknowns performing live. Perhaps this is a turn-off for many, since it is necessary to pay to get in to the venue, and chance your arm on whether the jokes are good. However, there are free comedy nights around, and it is worth supporting them to keep independent and original comedy going.

So, is this the end for interesting comedy? I think (and hope) it isn’t. Comedy festivals are getting stronger, and they cater to a fairly wide range of tastes. Small venues which offer live comedy for free or a small fee should be treasured – for all the bad acts, there will always be someone out there with talent and something original to say. Sure, you may not be able to catch them on iPlayer or Dave, but that doesn’t mean they’ve completely disappeared. Support live comedy, and TV comedy may just change too.

Clare Williams also writes a blog at: then3rdgirl.wordpress.com.