Thanks for the laughs, Lee
"Should this retirement be permanent, we have lost a real hero of comedy", writes Rob Gilroy in this week's Making A Stand column.
Lee Evens has announced his retirement and, as you would expect, the response has been more diverse than the dance group Diversity sharing a mixed combo platter at a Brewers Fayre while on a work retreat to emphasise the dangers of prejudice.
The responses covered everything from despair (‘Noooooooooo’) through to blame (‘He’s just doing it to boost the ticket sales on his new tour’) via indifference (‘Meh. Never liked him anyway.’) Say what you like about the internet but it definitely gives people a platform to share opinions that aren’t of any interest – I say, writing my weekly online column.
While it’s easy to see why people jump to these various conclusions, it doesn’t alter the fact that should this retirement be permanent we have lost a real hero of comedy. OK, so maybe his brand of heightened observational comedy isn’t as popular as it once was, being somewhat side-lined by a train of thought that suggests awkward non-sequiturs are better than actual jokes – this from someone who built an act around awkward non-sequiturs – but Lee Evans is a master.
The truth is – I love Lee Evans. He remains one of the dominant stand-up figures in my life. A large part of that is because, during the 90s and early 00s, he was churning out live videos more than almost any other act.
Nowadays we expect to be inundated with stand-up DVDs, particularly at Christmas; the Media aisle in ASDA looks like a staring competition between the comedy elite. But before all of that, was Lee. Aside from maybe Eddie Izzard, few other comics had his visibility without really having much TV exposure.
It may be a bit of a leap, but it’s easy to see how Lee was one of the main driving forces behind the resurgence of comedy on television. As a child, his Live in Scotland and Different Planet Tour videos had me squealing like a pig experiencing its first orgasm, while the Wired and Wonderful at Wembley DVD was another level of comic perfection – not surprisingly helping to kick start the trend of stadium tours. Few can fill them as well or as brilliantly as Lee Evans though.
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That’s the thing about Lee. He isn’t just a great gag writer, or good at observations, he’s an astounding physical comedian who is incredibly dexterous not only with his body but also his words and intonation.
For every Bohemian Rhapsody, there’s also a note perfect punch line that few others could embody with the same level of hilarity. Not to mention his musical skill – his innate ability to write songs that can be brilliantly funny and endearingly moving – and his TV work. I urge you to check out The World of Lee Evans to see him absolutely nail a modern take on (almost) silent comedy.
But I think the real thing to take from this sad announcement, is his reason for it. He’s decided to retire from comedy (which he utterly excels at) to spend more time with his wife and daughter.
It may be hard for fledgling comics to understand this – why work so hard to get to the top of your game, only to quit and do normal people things? A few years ago I would have thought the same – it’s easy when pursuing a career in comedy to focus on that and nothing else. It’s not an easy goal so dogged determination is essential but where does that leave the rest of your life? Usually trailing behind.
I knew from a very early age that I wanted to do comedy and went after it with a blinkered refusal to accept it might not happen. I still think like that. The only other thing I wanted at that age was a girlfriend. Sounds pathetic, I know. And it was – I was utterly pathetic – watching Norah Ephron films and listening to Damien Rice while crying myself to sleep at night, staring at the empty picture frame on the bedside table. Pretty bleak for a 14 year old.
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Fast forward a few years and I eventually met someone – Lucy. I didn’t think I could be happier – unless BBC2 offered me a series – but now I am far, far happier. As some people may know, this week I proposed to Lucy and, despite all common sense, she said yes. We are absolutely ecstatic and little else could make me this content – BBC2 or otherwise.
As of next year, we’ll have been together 10 years. That’s a crazily long time – the only relationship that’s lasted longer is the one I have with HSBC and, if I’m honest, I’m too scared to pull out of it. Throughout this time I’ve continued to tell Lucy that I will make it as a comedy writer/performer and she has stood by me, watching me die on my arse at gigs and fail to push myself with industry people, and yet she continues to believe and support me more than anyone. That’s more than blind optimism, that’s love.
I want to be doing comedy as long as I possibly can, but if someone was to tell me I could only do it at the expense of spending the rest of my life with Lucy, I’d walk away in an instant. When I was that moping, crying, Richard Curtis-worshipping 14 year old, comedy meant everything to me. Now it means almost everything. The top spot is taken.
So Lee – thank you very much for the laughs, I’ve loved every minute. It’s a shame to say goodbye but I completely understand.
And Lucy – thank you for everything.
That’s if you’re reading this; sometimes you don’t bother.
